Naomi walked outside, her bare feet touching the dew-damp grass. She made her way to the barn's remains where ash still coated everything like dirty snow. Kneeling, she pressed her hands into the charred soil. It was still warm, still alive beneath the surface.
"Not yet," she muttered, fingers curling into the earth. The words came out stronger than she expected, carrying the weight of generations of Carters who had refused to be driven from their land. "Not yet."
Nia stood in their shared bedroom, staring at Ethan's cracked smartphone she'd retrieved from behind the barn hay bales. She'd spotted it that morning while helping clean up, half-buried in straw, where he'd dropped it during Naomi's ambush. Her fingers trembled as she pressed the power button. The screen flickered to life. No password required. Typical Ethan carelessness.
"Naomi," she called softly. "Come look at this."
Her sister appeared in the doorway, still brushing dirt from her hands. The morning's despair had hardened into something else, something stronger. After Grandma Rose's words, Naomi crossed the room, her footsteps heavy on the old wooden floor.
"What is it?"
"Ethan's phone. From when... from when you fought them."
They sat together on Nia's bed, the worn quilt crinkling beneath them. The gallery app opened to reveal dozens of videos organized by date. Nia's stomach churned as she recognized the thumbnail of the first one: her own terrified face from days ago.
"Should we?" she hesitated, finger hovering over the play button.
Naomi's jaw tightened. "We need to see everything they recorded."
The first video started playing, and Nia flinched at the sound of her own screams mixing with their laughter. Chase's face loomed large in the frame as he grabbed her shirt, his words clear and cruel. "Know your place, farm trash." The racial slurs that followed made both sisters wince.
"Stop!" Naomi whispered after 30 seconds. "I can't... I can't watch them hurt you again."
But Nia forced herself to continue scrolling, her breath catching as she noticed a video from last night. The timestamp read 2:47 a.m.
When she pressed play, the night scene filled the screen, illuminated by flashlight beams. Travis's face appeared, grinning as he waved a gas can. "Watch this!" His voice slurred slightly. "Going to teach those Carter [ __ ] what happens when they don't stay down."
The camera followed him as he splashed accelerant against the barn wall, the liquid gleaming in the darkness.
"Hurry up," Chase's voice came from offscreen. "Before someone sees."
The flame of Travis's lighter flared bright and then... whoosh. Orange fire raced up the wooden walls. The video captured their laughter, their high-fives, their casual cruelty as they watched the flames spread.
"Oh my god," Nia breathed. Her hand covered her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks. "We have proof. Real proof."
Naomi grabbed the phone, rewinding both videos to watch key moments again. Her hands shook with rage, but her voice was steady. "They filmed everything. Their faces, their voices, the lighter, the gas can, even their stupid jokes about it."
"The sheriff can't ignore this," Nia said. "He'll have to—"
"No." Naomi's eyes gleamed with sudden purpose. "The sheriff's in their pocket. But the internet, that's something they can't control."
She pulled out her own phone and started typing rapidly. "I'm creating a new account. Anonymous. Then we upload both videos, the assault and the arson."
Nia watched her sister work, conflict playing across her face. "What if they come after us worse than before? They already burned down our barn."
"Naomi said grimly. "But this time they gave us the weapon to fight back. Their own arrogance trapped them."
The upload screen appeared. Two videos ready to share with the world. Naomi's finger hovered over the button, trembling slightly, not with fear, but with the weight of what this would unleash.
"Do it!" Nia whispered, gripping her sister's free hand. "Show everyone who they really are."
Naomi took a deep breath and pressed "Share."
The progress bar began to fill. 10%... 25%... 50%. The sisters sat in tense silence watching the numbers climb. 75%... 90%... 100%. The videos were live.
The morning sun had barely cleared the horizon when the first news van pulled up to the Carter farm. Naomi watched from the kitchen window, coffee cup frozen halfway to her lips as a reporter and cameraman stepped carefully around the muddy driveway. Her phone buzzed constantly, thousands of notifications from the videos that had spread like wildfire overnight.
"They're here already," Nia said softly, joining her sister at the window. Dark circles under her eyes revealed her sleepless night spent monitoring the growing online storm.
"100,000 shares," Naomi muttered, glancing at her phone again. "And that's just on the first platform."