It erased the last small part of me still wondering whether Samantha was sorry.
She wasn’t thinking about me.
She was thinking about the video.
I got out of bed.
My cheek was swollen.
My eyes looked tired and red.
I took photographs in the bathroom mirror, exactly as the hospital employee had advised.
Front.
Side.
Close-up.
Then I saved them with the videos, discharge paperwork, and screenshots.
At 9:02, Mom called.
I let it ring.
At 9:05, Dad texted.
Call me when you’re awake. I just want to know you’re okay.
I answered him.
I’m awake. I’m okay. I’ll call later.
At 9:11, Samantha called.
I watched her name disappear.
Then she called again.
I declined it.
Three minutes later, Jenny’s name appeared.
I answered immediately.
“Hey.”
“Hannah…”
Something in her voice made me sit up.
“What?”
“I’m at Samantha’s building.”
“Why?”
“Your purse. Remember? You left it here. I came back to get it.”
“Oh.”
There was noise behind her.
Voices.
A door opening.
Then Jenny said, much more quietly, “The police are here.”
My spine straightened.
“What?”
“Two officers. They just knocked on her door.”
I got out of bed.
“Are you inside?”
“I’m in the hallway. Trevor let me up because he stayed over.”
Through the phone, I heard Samantha’s door open.
Then a male voice.
“Are you Samantha Carter?”
A pause.
My sister answered.
Confident.
Annoyed.
“Yes. What is this about?”
“We need to ask you some questions about an incident reported last night.”
Silence.
Only two seconds.
But I knew Samantha.
I could almost see her face.
The irritation.
The calculation.
The instant search for the version of events that would make her look harmless.
She had expected me to calm down.
She had expected Mom to pressure me.
She had expected everyone to wake up and treat the night before like one stupid birthday joke.
Then someone inside the apartment whispered:
“Is this about the cake?”
Samantha exhaled sharply.
“It was just a prank.”
I gripped the phone tighter.
One of the officers answered.
His voice was calm.
Almost flat.
“Ma’am, when somebody clearly tells you not to do something, you do it anyway, and that person requires medical treatment afterward, we don’t determine what happened based on whether you thought it was funny.”
For the first time in my life, Samantha had no immediate comeback.
And hearing that silence felt like the beginning of something I had spent years believing would never happen.
A consequence.
