The thought of being convicted for something I didn’t start was terrifying. If they charged me with intentional injury, I could be looking at up to three years in prison. That was the harsh reality and it weighed heavily on me. I racked my brain, trying to remember every detail, every moment from that night, hoping I could find something to help my case. But without any concrete proof, it felt like I was stuck in an impossible situation.
That week in the detention center dragged on, each day feeling longer than the last. I searched for a way out, but nothing seemed to add up in my favor. I was running out of time and the fear of what might come next was overwhelming.
One day, Officer Brister showed up out of the blue.
"Carrie, you're free to go," she said.
I felt a wave of relief. "Did you find any evidence that I was attacked?"
She sighed and shook her head. "No, but Kennith dropped the charges."
My stomach flipped. Why would he suddenly let me off the hook?
As I stepped out of the detention center, I saw my younger brother waiting for me on his motorcycle, grinning like an idiot.