The flashing red and blue lights exploded in my rearview mirror like a sudden nightmare, cutting through the dark highway night and sending my heart slamming against my ribs.

“Oh no… fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whispered frantically, my palms instantly sweating on the steering wheel. I glanced down at the speedometer — eighty-seven in a fifty-five zone. I’d been driving way too fast, fueled by anger, cheap vodka, and the sting of yet another fight with my mom about “growing up and taking responsibility.” The empty road at 1:30 a.m. had felt like freedom. Now that freedom was about to cost me dearly.

I signaled and slowly pulled my beat-up...