Vera hesitates. “I can’t say.”

“What could happen?” I ask with a sniff.

“Well, it’s hard to predict what’ll happen, but the DA will decide whether or not to bring charges against her. And potentially you as well. If the evidence corroborates what you described, then they might decline to prosecute.”

“Really?” I am breathless with shock as her words sink in.

“In Georgia, you have the right to shoot someone who enters your property without your permission.”

“Like self-defense?” I cough, my throat raw from all the crying.

“Not quite. In a sense it’s self-defense but the burden of proof is nowhere as high. You don’t have to be in imminent danger. You just have to feel threatened.” She’s careful to keep her voice neutral, steady, but I can sense she disagrees with the law.

My head spins and I have to lean against the wall for support. Though scratchy and rough, the brick wall is cool to the touch and I want to press my cheek to it. I think about last night, close my eyes. I can see Elise out on the balcony still. She turns with heavy shoulders and walks back inside. Then she hears footsteps, sees the shape of a man approaching her in the dark, sees her father approaching her and doesn’t think, can’t think. Just points and shoots.

Her fear is palpable to me even now, even though I wasn’t there. I take a shuddering breath and cough again.

“It’s time,” Vera says, checking her phone. “Are you ready?”

I’ll never be ready, but I have no choice.

“Listen, Remy.” Vera looks serious, grim even, as we begin the walk back. “What you say now is important, do you understand?”

I nod, my heart racing. Everything depends on me. It feels like I hold both of our lives in my hands, the weight of it threatening to pull me under.

“You need to worry about yourself right now,” she says. “Don’t worry about your friend or what might happen. Just focus on what you’re going to say.”

“But they could choose not to prosecute?” I ask, voice low. I feel weak, like my legs could collapse at any moment. Elise was always the strong one of the two of us. She was always the one who knew what to do, who had answers. But now it’s up to me.

“It depends,” Vera says as we’re about to round the corner to the main lobby where my family waits. She stops, places a firm hand on my shoulder. “It’ll depend on what the evidence suggests. It’ll depend on a lot of different factors—the strength of that evidence, if they can establish not just means but motive, public perception of the case, even. Prosecutors only like to try cases they think they’ll win, which means they’re very cautious about which cases they try. So it’ll depend on a lot of things.”

“Like what I say?”

Vera frowns, and I can tell my question doesn’t sit well with her. “Just stick to the truth, okay? Keep it simple, like we talked about. Tell them what you told me last night.” She looks like she has more to say but then someone turns the corner, almost colliding with us.