After the police questioned me and looked into everything, they couldn’t find any solid evidence that I had been assaulted. Meanwhile, Kennith’s injuries were confirmed by the hospital, so it seemed like I was the one at fault. Officer Lana Brister, the one who took me in, seemed to believe my story, but without proof, there wasn’t much she could do.
It was surreal. Here I was, the one who was attacked, yet I ended up locked up like I had done something wrong. During my time in the detention center, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I kept replaying the whole thing in my head, trying to figure out what I could’ve done differently. It hit me that I couldn’t afford to be soft or hesitate when dealing with people like Kennith. I needed to protect myself and gather evidence at all costs because otherwise, I would end up in a mess like this.
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.
He's five years younger than me and still in high school. Growing up, our parents were always working, so I basically raised him. We had always been super close, maybe even more so than with our parents.
He came to pick me up and we headed home.
When we got there, my parents were already waiting. The moment they saw me, their faces were a mix of relief and worry.