As I stepped out onto the sidewalk toward the police cruiser, my phone began to vibrate repeatedly in my pocket. The family group chat was overflowing with panicked messages. My stepfather was frantically calling. My mother had sent seven text messages in less than two minutes, her tone completely shifted from anger to desperate begging: Renata please call me back. It was all a mistake. Don’t do this to your sister. Think about our family.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t open the messages. I pressed the power button on the side of the phone until the screen went entirely black, then slipped it into my pocket.

I got into the back of the police car, sat up straight, and looked out the window as the morning sun broke through the clouds, illuminating the city streets ahead of me. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t carrying anyone else’s weight. I was only carrying my own future, clean and entirely my own.