Page 5 of Angelic Vengeance

I looked around the familiar beige room. My eyes dropped to my bruised hands. I pulled my sleeves down.

“You can’t keep doing this, Angela.” Ruiz walked in, sighing as she took a seat in front of me on the worn-out couch and flipped through her folders. She still called me by my middle name.

It would probably be my thirtieth time leaving a foster home.

I’d always been a runner.

“What was wrong this time?”

They tried to touch me. Hurt me. Hit me.

I would die before I let them.

“Didn’t like my room.” The lie came out naturally, but the bruises on my body burned under my baggy clothes.

No one ever saw anything. I wouldn’t allow it.

Don’t ever let anybody see you hurt.

I mentally chuckled. She was right about one thing.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Ruiz watched me with sad eyes. Despite everything, I knew she only wanted the best for me. She just couldn’t take care of me herself as she could barely afford to live on her own.

I lifted a corner of my lips, attempting a smile. “I know.”

She sighed, closed the folder, and got up. “I’ll go find you a new place to stay. Wait here.” She turned to leave but stopped in the doorway to look back at me. “And don’t run away again.” She pointed a finger at me. “I mean it this time, Pérez.”

I only smirked back.

She sighed in exasperation and closed the door, leaving me alone again.

My smile dropped. I knew I’d be back by the end of the week; it was Friday.

“Hi. I’m Natalia. What’s your name?”

Looking over my shoulder, I met a pair of heavenly-soft, brown eyes. They belonged to a girl about the same age as me. Caramel blonde hair flowed down her shoulders, over the pink material of her winter coat.

It was December and my first day at the Bronx Orphanage. Ruiz had truly outdone herself this time. I wouldn’t be able to run away from here; at least not with the fifty-year-old hawks circling us. I would later grow to like the orphanage, but only because of the extracurricular boxing classes being run every night.

“Maria,” I responded before turning away.

I was sitting on a bench; knees squeezed to my chest, knuckles white. Icy wind bit at my red cheeks and I ran my tongue over my chapped lips. The snow was settling. There was no way I would escape now.

At least I would have a roof for the winter.

“Nice to meet you, Maria.” The girl sat next to me – so close, I got warmer from the contact. “How old are you?”

“Seven.”

“I’m nine.” She sighed and looked around with a tiny frown. “How long have you been away from home?”

“Since I can remember. You?” I straightened up and turned towards her.

“Me too. But I’m not staying for long.” She quickly looked at me, almost as if to assure me and not herself. “My mom’s coming back for me.”

Even back then I knew that wasn’t true. And I was right because she never did.

“That’s nice.” I smiled anyway. For some reason, the thought of doing anything to dim her smile cut through my chest.

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