I’m Colorblind. I Can’t Drive.

Three in the morning. My neighbor Kevin pounded on my door with a group of people, shouting that I was a hit-and-run driver.

The man leading the charge grabbed me by the collar of my pajamas and roared, It was you! I wrote down your license plate. You hit my dad and just took off. Ran a red light! What kind of monster are you?

"I'm telling you, my dad's in the ICU right now, in a coma! You're going to pay for this!"

He shoved his phone in my face. The picture showed a car speeding through an intersection. His wife stood beside him, clutching their child and wailing.

I was still half-asleep, my mind struggling to catch up. "What does this have to do with me?"

The other neighbors started chiming in. "She can sleep after hitting someone? That's terrifying!"

"How can we have a murderer living in our building?"

Hitting someone?

I'm colorblind. I don't even know how to drive.

...

"Sir, please calm down," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "I haven't left my apartment all day. I think you have the wrong person."

Kevin lived on the floor below me. Wed always been civil, a polite nod in the hallway. But right now, he looked like he wanted to tear me apart.

He thrust the phone back at my face. "Wrong person? Is this your license plate or not?"

On the screen was the rear of a Porsche Panamera, the plate clearly visible: A123.

I squinted for a second, then nodded. "That's my car, but I..."

"So you admit it!" he yelled to the other neighbors. "You all heard her! It's her car!"

The hallway erupted.

"Typical rich people. Hit someone and then deny everything."

"Look at her face. Shes putting on a good act, playing innocent."

His wife pushed through the crowd with their child, dropping to her knees on my welcome mat. Her cries were heart-wrenching.

"Please, my father is on a ventilator. The surgery is fifty thousand dollars." Her voice was choked with sobs. "That's nothing to you, but it would ruin our family. You can't just leave him to die!"

My scalp tingled with anxiety. I rushed to help her up. "Ma'am, please get up. We haven't even figured out what happened..."

"We know exactly what happened!" Kevin grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. "I saw it with my own eyes! It was your car that ran the red light and sent my dad flying twenty feet!"

The last traces of sleep vanished, replaced by a surge of anger. "I haven't driven that car all day! You can't just say I hit him and make it true!"

"Fifty thousand? Why not ask for five hundred thousand? This sounds more like a robbery to me!"

The words had barely left my mouth when his hand cracked across my face.

The force sent me stumbling back a step, a high-pitched ringing in my ear.

"Bullshit!" he screamed, jabbing a finger at my nose. "My father is dying!"

"If you don't pay up, I'm calling the cops and you'll go to jail! I'll make your life a living hell!"

Someone in the crowd egged him on. "Good! She deserved that! People like her need to be taught a lesson!"

The neighbors grew more agitated.

"Don't waste your breath on her, just call the police! Lock her up!"

His wife was sobbing hysterically on the floor, and their child started screaming. Camera flashes went off in my face, blinding me.

I clutched my stinging cheek and slowly straightened up. "Fine. Call the police."

Kevin froze.

"You heard me. You wanted to call them? Go ahead." I wiped a smear of blood from the corner of my mouth.

I turned, walked to my nightstand, and grabbed something. Then I walked back and slapped it against his chest.

"And while you're at it, let the police see how a colorblind woman who can't even drive managed to hit your father!"

Kevin stared down at the official colorblindness certificate in his hand, stunned into silence for a long three seconds.

The angry shouts from the hallway died out instantly.

Someone whispered, "Colorblind? Doesn't that mean she can't get a license?"

"Hey, Kevin, you don't think... you actually got the wrong person, do you?"

I pointed at the document he was holding. "See it clearly? It has an official seal. You can read, can't you?"

Kevin's face flushed, then paled.

A second later, he threw the certificate on the floor. "You think a piece of paper is going to fool me?"

"You can afford a Panamera, but you don't have a license?" He took a menacing step closer. "Besides, if you really are colorblind, that means you were driving without a license! That's even worse!"

A wave of understanding washed over the crowd.

"He's right! We almost fell for her little trick!"

"No wonder she ran a red light. She can't even tell the difference!"

I was done arguing with them.

"Alright," I said, pulling out my phone. "Like I said, let's get the police involved. We'll see if I'm lying, or if you're trying to shake me down."

"Go ahead! Call them! Let's see who they arrest when they get here!" Kevin snarled.

I dialed 911 and gave them the address and a brief summary of the situation.

After hanging up, I leaned against the doorframe, silent.

Kevin was still ranting. "Calling the cops now is just a stall tactic to let my dad die!"

"Don't think you can get away with this. No matter what, I'll see you behind bars."

"Just shut up," I said, my voice cold. "Your father isn't dead yet. Why are you in such a hurry to mourn him? Worried you'll get less money if he pulls through?"

Kevin's face twisted in fury.

"What the hell did you just say?"

He lunged at me, but his wife grabbed him and held him back with all her strength.

I was about to say more when the sound of sirens cut through the night.

Kevin scrambled toward the officers as if they were his saviors.

"Officers, it was her! She ran a red light, hit my dad, and won't admit it!"

The officer looked me over. "Are you the owner of the vehicle with license plate A123?"

"Yes."

"Did you hit someone?"

"No."

Kevin became frantic. "It was her, I saw it with my own eyes!"

The officer held up a hand to silence him, then turned back to me. "Ma'am, you claim you didn't hit anyone. Do you have any proof?"

I picked up my certificate from the floor and handed it to him.

The officer opened it and paused. "Colorblind?"

"Yes," I confirmed.

He frowned. "Then how did you acquire the car?"

"It was an inheritance from my father," I said, my voice quiet. "I can't drive it, so it's always parked in the garage. The only time it moves is when the dealership sends someone to pick it up for routine maintenance. They have records of everything."

Kevin scoffed. "Nice story. Keep spinning it! You think the police are going to believe you?"

The officer ignored him and turned to the building's security guard. "Get property management on the line. I need to see the security footage."

The guard scratched his head. "Oh, man. You know that big snowstorm we had a couple of days ago?"

"It shorted out some of the wiring. The cameras in the parking garage are down. We haven't had a chance to fix them yet..."

My stomach dropped.

What a coincidence.

Kevin's face lit up. "The cameras are broken? I guess your proof just disappeared! Happy now?"

The officer's brow furrowed. "Sir, please remain calm."

"We have procedures for this. Until there is clear evidence, I'll ask you to show this woman some respect." He turned back to me. "Ma'am, does your car have a dashcam?"

"Yes."

"Do you mind if we take a look?"

I nodded, grabbing the car keys from the console table by the door and handing them to him.

We all went down to the underground garage.

The officer had just reached the front of the car, his hand on the door handle, when Kevin suddenly bolted forward. He threw himself across the hood, his voice cracking with excitement.

"Officers! You have to see this!"

He pointed at the front bumper. "What is this?"

I moved closer, using my phone's flashlight to see what he was pointing at.

On the right side of the bumper, there was a fresh scrape. And smeared across it was a dark stain of what looked like blood.

The crowd gasped.

"Well, that's it! She's caught! Look at the size of that dent!"

"She was still trying to deny it. Let's see what she says now!"

Kevin's wife rushed forward, her child still in her arms. She pointed at the smear. "That's my father's blood... What do you have to say for yourself now?"

A roaring sound filled my ears.

Impossible.

I hadn't driven the car.

The officer crouched down, shining his flashlight on the mark, his brow furrowed. "Ma'am, how do you explain this?"

I opened my mouth, but my throat was dry. "I don't know... I swear, I haven't driven the car."

Kevin sneered. "You don't know? It's your car, the blood is right there, and you 'don't know'?"

The officer stood up and looked at me. "Ma'am, we need to collect a sample for lab analysis. We'll also need you to come with us to the station to cooperate with our investigation."

My instincts screamed at me that if they took me in now, things would only get worse.

Could someone else have taken my car and caused the accident?

"Okay," I nodded. "But I have one request. Let me make a phone call first to confirm something."

The officer agreed.

I took out my phone, dialed the service manager at the dealership, and put it on speaker.

"Mr. Davis, it's Anna. I have a quick question. Has anyone moved my car recently?"

There was a two-second pause on the other end. "Ms. Anna? Your car? No, ma'am."

"The last service was two weeks ago. After we finished, we returned it to your designated parking spot. The key has been with you the whole time. None of our staff have touched it."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. We have a strict policy. Every vehicle's entry and exit is logged."

I ended the call.

The officer was watching me, waiting.

I clutched my phone, my mind racing.

Where did the scrape come from? Where did the blood come from?

The murmurs from the crowd grew louder.

Kevin was gloating. "Given up yet? It couldn't have been anyone else!"

He grabbed my arm. "Let's go! To the station! You're going to cough up that fifty grand today, one way or another!"

He yanked me forward, and I stumbled, crashing against the car door. My head hit the window frame, and for a second, my vision went black.

In that fleeting moment, my eyes caught a glimpse of a small black box mounted on the inside of the windshield.

The dashcam!

"Wait!" I gripped the car door, refusing to be moved. "I demand to see the dashcam footage right now!"