ANGEL'S POV:
If only she could shut up for one second, then maybe I might be able to hear my own thoughts.
Every foreign word Astrid spat, at some point, became a verbal blur of thunderstorms and fury. In between, she'd throw an accusatory finger at me, as if reporting a bad kid to the principal for stealing from the cookie jar.
I might have laughed if under a different circumstance.
But it wasn't.
Twisted to a sickening extent, my heart bled to the ground, and it wasn't like the soft pitter patters of the rain, or the small tear drops that stained my cheeks.
I was completely drenched in a pool of my own despair, sinking deeper and deeper into every heartbreak, disappointment and exhaustion I'd faced in the past two years.
The memories mocked me.
The day I gave away my college fund
