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.
Fists. Feet. From every direction.
Someone held up their phone and started streaming.
Soon enough, Roger and Samantha were watching from the other side of a screen.
Roger exhaled in relief, pulling her close. "Thank you for saving me, Samantha."
She forced a smile, but guilt and panic still swam in her eyes. "As long as you're okay... I'd do anything for you."
In the midst of the chaos, Mom burst through the crowd, scattering the parents like a force of nature.
She planted herself in front of us, her voice a raw, furious roar: "Don't you dare touch my husband and son!"
She raised her phone, her tone shifting to something ice-cold and unyielding:
"The person who actually hurt your children is Roger James. I've already uploaded the proof online. If you don't believe me, go see for yourselves."
