9. Ava - Too Late
AVA - TOO LATE
The chapel smelled like dust and lilies. Too many fucking lilies.
That was the first thing I noticed. Not the mahogany casket, not the crooked hymn number board on the wall, not even the pale faces I used to see every week in group.
Just the damn flowers. Suffocating sweet, like a lie pretending to be comfort.
It had taken a week to get Sofia to the funeral home, and the ache was still as sharp as the night I found her.
I sat three pews back, hands folded in my lap, fists clenched beneath my coat. Remi sat beside me, spine stiff, jaw tight. Neither of us cried. We hadn’t stopped crying long enough to cry again.
Ms. Cross was in the front row, bandages still visible beneath her Sunday best, her hands clasped tight in her lap.
The pastor droned on. Something about peace. About light. About forgiveness. About it being her time.
I heard none of it.
All I could hear was Sofia’s voice in that last session. Her smile was hopeful and broken.
“I think… I think maybe I’m starting to believe I’m worth something. That I don’t have to go back.”
"Ava, I looked into those courses you told me about. I think I might sign up for next semester... take a crack at being a 'normal' twenty-year-old."
She’d looked at me like I had the answers. Like I was the reason she saw a way out.
Like I’d saved her.
But I hadn’t. I hadn’t saved her. I’d sent her to her aunt’s, told her to breathe, to rest, to take space. I’d promised her she’d be safe.
And now she was in a closed casket, hidden away by the brutality of her death.
I stared at the floor. I didn’t trust what would happen if I looked up, if I saw Ms. Cross’s grief, or the quiet devastation across the aisle. If I looked at the podium and remembered all the women, I couldn’t save.
The pastor said her name, and I flinched. I didn’t mean to.
Remi’s hand found mine for just a second. A small anchor. Then she let go.
After the service, people huddled. Whispered. Cried into jackets and tissue sleeves.
I wanted to scream. To shove their polite condolences back down their throats.
Ask them what they had done to help her, why they cared now when they hadn't before.
She wasn’t just a statistic. She wasn’t a mistake. She was brave, kind, and she was trying so hard to get to a place where she was safe.
And he killed her.
“Don’t, Ava.”
Remi’s voice again, barely audible.
I realized I had taken a step forward, toward the man lingering near the back.
Dane. Sofia's ex... her killer.
His hands were folded in front of him. Polished shoes. Fresh shave. Like he was attending a job interview. Not a funeral for the girl he brutalized.
A sick smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. Not open. Not obvious. Just enough.
Just enough to say: I know I won.
My stomach turned.
“What is he doing here?” I hissed.
“Trying to look innocent,” Remi said, voice clipped. “He has a good lawyer, and the DA said there was a lack of evidence. No witnesses. Nothing that could stick.”
I felt it in my chest. The ignition.
Burn it all down.
I took another step.
“Ava.”
Jack’s voice cut through the crowd. He moved quickly, intercepting me just before I made a scene that would’ve gotten me cuffed.
Again.
His hand gently, but firmly, guided away. “Not here.”
“He killed her,” I said, low and sharp.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.” I shook him off. “You have no idea.”
Jack looked tired. His tie was loose, hair wind-ruffled, sleeves rolled to his elbows like he couldn’t quite keep himself pulled together either.
“Listen,” he said, voice quieter now. “I’m on your side, Ava. But you can’t keep setting yourself on fire every time the system fails. It’s going to burn you up.”
I stared at him. “You think I don’t know that?” I whispered. “You think I haven’t already caught fire a dozen times?”
He exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not your enemy.”
“Then do something. Put that law degree to good use. Get him put away.”
“I’m trying. I will. You know I will. But you also know it's not my case, and my full-time job as a prosecutor keeps my plate full. They’re pulling me for higher-level caseloads. There’s talk of moving me to the city DA’s office.”
That stopped me.
Jack shifted his weight like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud yet. “I wasn’t going to bring it up. Not now.”
I folded my arms. “Remi know?”
He scoffed, “She told me to go.”
Then he shook his head, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “She always does what’s best for everyone else..." He paused and looked longingly at Remi. "Is it crazy that I want her to tell me to stay?”
I didn’t answer because we both knew that wasn't going to happen.
He followed Remi's line of sight... toward Dane, then at me again.
“I’ll keep doing everything I can. But don’t lose yourself in this fight, Ava. Not like this.”
I didn’t promise him anything.
Instead, I turned back to the room full of hypocritical mourners. To the wreckage we were all left holding.
“Too late,” I whispered. "You are all too late."
Then I walked away.