The window frame creaked as I hoisted myself through, a sound that would normally make me wince. Tonight, I didn't care. My cheek still stung from where Jason had struck me, and I knew the bruise would bloom by morning. Shane's room was dark except for the blue glow of his computer screen, but he was already on his feet when I tumbled onto his carpet.

"Jesus, Y/N," he whispered, rushing to help me up. "You could've texted."

I couldn't meet his eyes. "He took my phone."

Shane didn't need to ask who "he" was. He'd been my best friend since third grade, long before Jason came into the picture. Long before the apologies, the promises to change, the cycle that never seemed to end.

"That's it," Shane said, his voice quiet but firm. "You're staying here tonight. And tomorrow, we're figuring this out. For real this time."