I awoke to a rattle against my cell door.
"Hey, kid!"
I blinked, sitting up slow. My back ached, my face was stiff with dried tears.
A guard stepped in, clipboard in hand. He looked like he hadn't slept either.
"We've assigned you a lawyer," he said. "Since you got no guardians. No parents either, according to the system."
I rubbed my eyes and sat up straighter. "Who is it?"
"Name's Garvey. Court-appointed. He's outside."
"Do I get a choice?"
The guard snorted. "Not unless you've got a pile of money. Which, judging by where you're sitting, you don't."
I stayed quiet.
He turned toward the door. "Alright. Garvey, you're up."
A tall man in a charcoal suit stepped into view. Glasses. Clean face. Looked like he belonged in an office, not a place like this. He clutched a leather briefcase like it was armor.
"I'm Garvey," he said. "Your defense attorney."
He glanced at the guard. "Could we have the room?"
The officer gave him a look. "You sure?"
"Yes."
The guard shrugged. "You've got ten." He stepped out, locking the door behind him.
Garvey adjusted his collar, then sat down on the bench across from me.
"Let's get something straight," he said. "I'm not here to lie to you. I'm not here to sugarcoat anything. You're up against families with money—serious money. They're calling shots I can't even see. This case? It's already over, behind the scenes."
I leaned back. "So what, I'm just supposed to lose?"
"I'm saying," he said slowly, "we're going to lose no matter what. So our best bet is to plead guilty. We work out a deal, get your sentence reduced, maybe serve fifteen years instead of twenty or more."
"No," I said immediately. "I won't plead for a crime I didn't commit."
Garvey held my gaze. "I understand. I do. But it's the only way to minimize damage. I'll let you think on it, but first—I need your side. Every detail. No skips."
I took a deep breath… and told him everything.
From how she called me out of the lunch line, to the look on her face, to how they were already waiting. The punches. The kicks. The names. The crowd that watched. The people who laughed. The ones who did nothing.
Garvey wrote fast, only pausing once.
"She did that?" he muttered.
"Yeah."
He stopped writing. "Then the best outcome I can get is fifteen years. You're a minor, so they won't give you more than twenty. If we plead guilty, I can probably cut that to twelve, maybe ten if you behave."
I stared at him. "There's no other way?"
He shook his head. "Again… we're nothing against their wealth."
I leaned forward. "What if we went public? Social media. Get the truth out there. Make people listen."
His face changed. Real fear flickered in his eyes.
"No. Absolutely not. I can't risk my life—or my family's—for this. You think this is just court politics? These people… they don't forgive exposure."
"But if we stay silent, they win."
"I'm not here to fight a war I can't survive," he said. "I'm here to protect you. And the best I can promise is less than fifteen years. Just plead guilty."
I stared at him for a long moment. Then shook my head slowly.
"That's the problem," I said. "I'm not pleading to something I never did."
Garvey's face tensed. He stood up, gathered his notes, and slid them back into his case.
"You've got six hours before trial," he said. "Think about it."
He started walking toward the bars, then paused and looked back—eyes full of pity. The same look McCarthy gave me.
I turned away and muttered, "I don't need your sympathy."
Garvey didn't say anything. He just knocked once, and the guard opened the door.
Then he was gone.