They are all innocent until proven guilty. Not me though, am a liar until proven honest and me being proven honest doesn't change anything either. I was a liar, I am a liar and I'll always remain a liar because it was me who invited him. I am THE sl...
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Pulling on Angel’s room window, I frown as it immediately opens, before slowly climbing through it so as not to wake her mother.
She definitely has an aversion to locks.
Her smell instantly covers me as I step into her room, causing me to relax. And, here I am again, sneaking into her room. I really am digging myself deeper into this hole yet I can’t help myself. I swear it's like she’s used some sort of black magic on me.
“Why the locks, if you’re not going to use them?” I ask, taking in her weird posture. She is lying on her bed in a weird fetal position as her body shakes, her body jerks up at my voice.
What I see next, twists my heart. Her eyes are bloodshot. Tears and snot running down her face. Her face is blotchy and red, while her hair is a wild mess.
I just saw her this morning at lunch. What happened in a few hours that has her in a twist so bad?
"What are you doing here?" Her voice breaks as she tries to wipe away the tears.
Ignoring her question, I walk up to her and sit beside her, "What's wrong?"
I swear if it's because of someone I know, I'll re-shape his whole face.
And as soon as I ask that question, she immediately breaks down making my heart hurt. I don't like the look on her face at all.
"Angel, come here," I whisper and extend my hand. She tries to resist, uncertainty clear in her eyes, but when I tug her hand she immediately crawls up to me and settles inside my lap. I tense up. I wasn't expecting that.
But every thought flies out of the window when she buries her face in the crook of my neck and starts bawling.
I twist us up so that my back is leaning against the headboard, as I rub my hand up and down her back. I want to ask so many questions, but that's for later. Right now it looks like she needs to cry her feelings out. The left side of my shirt is covered in tears and snot immediately.
It's about ten minutes later or maybe even twenty minutes of soothing her, she settles down. The room is quiet except for her sniffles every few seconds.
"Tell me what's wrong, now," I speak as I grab her face so she's looking directly into my eyes.
I take in her for a moment. She doesn't look like my Angel right now. Instead, she looks like a fallen angel.
Devastated. Distressed. Rocked.
She finally looks up at me, her amber eyes looking too pale that the gloom there actually starts to bother me.
Nope. I don’t like it.
"Please tell me what's wrong," I whisper and her eyes tear up again.
"This is not something you would want to know Roman." She whispers and my heart breaks. I guess I know what she is talking about.
"When it comes to you, I want to know everything, Angel." I look directly into her eyes and whisper back.
