"They deserve it! A doctor who'd commit malpractice to help his son hurt others? Break his hands! See if he can practice medicine then!"
I screamed back with everything I had: "We didn't do anything! Check the surveillance footage! I wasn't even at that bar! And my dad wasn't on shift last night!"
Dad, blood streaming down his face, dragged himself in front of me and covered my body with his own. "Don't be scared. Dad's here."
Tears poured down my face. I screamed until my throat tore: "You've been lied to!"
My phone lit up.
A text from Samantha:
"I'm sorry, Daryl. Roger's family doesn't have money. If he gets sued, his life is over. Your family can afford the compensation, so we had to pin it on you. Once you get through this, we can repeat senior year together and go to the same university. Okay?"
I laughed—a hollow, broken sound.
So that's how it is.
Roger couldn't afford to pay, so these parents were happy to redirect their rage at me instead. Because my family had money. Because they figured they could tear off a bigger piece of flesh.
"Samantha Gilbert, you piece of garbage! You deserve to rot!"
The mob dragged me and my blood-soaked father out of the car.