Angela has been in the hospital for only two weeks, and she's about to be discharged. She sits quietly on her bed, drawing on her sketchpad, which is something she does when she's sad, angry, bored, or to pass the time. She is a really talented artist. But she doesn't show her art to the world; she only keeps it to herself.
She sits on the bed wearing a fitted, short-sleeved baby blue shirt with a deep V-neckline and a wide contrasting white collar. A high-waisted, pleated plaid mini skirt in shades of navy, white, and grey. Classic schoolgirl aesthetic. And a light blue headband that matches the top, adding to the coordinated, girly vibe. A simple gold jewellery: hoop earrings, a thin bracelet, and a necklace with a small charm.
She's out of those awful hospital clothes (Thank God); she's never worn anything so ugly in her life, except for the times her Abuela would make her wear ugly Christmas sweaters. Apart from that, she has never been attracted to ugly clothing; in fact, she would insult and make fun of people who wear ugly clothes.
And that's the thing that makes her cringe, the fact that she actually made fun of people for how they dressed, the fact that she teased people for no reason and bullied people.
She acknowledges it now; she is a bully. She doesn't want to be a bully anymore. She believes her parents' dying was karma for being a bully and getting Patricia killed.
She knows she's alive to feel the emotional pain of her parents. She deserves it, she knows she does.
While she sits on the bed drawing images of her parents, she can hear the hushed whispers between the doctor and her Grandmother, who has been visiting her since she got the call she was in the hospital.
Doctor Felicity says that it is a miracle that Angela survived that car accident and that it's a shock that her wounds are healing so fast.
"That's my granddaughter, she is strong." Her Abuela says.
Her Abuela is Catholic, but not the crazy type that always talks about the end times and how everyone should repent twenty-four seven. She's the chill Grandma, the hip Grandma, she likes to call herself.
Although her Grandmother is rich, she doesn't usually dress like it. Yes, the pearls are an indicator that she's rich, but she's wearing a cashmere sweater with brown pants. It's her signature look. It's only if there is an important event or party that she'll dress so glamorously.
She's now her legal guardian.
Rosalie Hernandez is the mother of Federico, Angela's dad. While Rosalie is carefree and always happy. Her dad was strict, but she still loved him because she knew he would do anything for her. But now he's gone.
Rosalie reminds her of her dad. Even though he looks more like her Grandfather, who sadly passed away from a heart attack when she was ten years old. It's Abuela Rosalie, she's more familiar with.
And she's going to be the one taking care of her now that she's an orphan.
Angela stares at a drawing of her mother and father, and she lets out a sigh. She can't stop having nightmares about that unfortunate day. She can't stop having nightmares in general. They all start the same.
Angel wings, demonic creatures, a cross, a church on fire, a fiery sword and a halo. It happens over and over, and she doesn't understand what they mean.
Does she even care anymore? All she knows is that her parents are gone, forever. And it's all her fault. She doesn't want to cry, she hates crying, she hates it so much. She hates that watery feel on her face; she hates feeling and looking weak. She guesses she gets that from her mother, being emotional.
"Angela, Angela dear, are you okay?" Her Grandmother calls for her, and Angela quickly hides the drawing and looks at her Abuela, blinking back tears.
"Yes, I'm fine," she says.
"Are you sure, honey?" Abuela asks.
Angela nods. "Yeah, I am."
"Okay, honey. Let's go home now." She says, and Angela looks at the doctor, who is still looking at her like she's a weird, oddity. Doctor Felicity notices her staring at her, and she immediately fixes her face. She brings up a fake smile.
Angela doesn't even care about the reason why the doctor is looking at her like that anymore or what she even thinks of her. She's just happy she's going to be leaving this hospital.
Angela is in the car with her grandmother in her Mercedes-Benz S-class (W140), and her grandmother keeps talking to he, telling her that if she needs anything that she should just tell her. Angela can hear the pity in her Grandmother's voice. But at the same time, Angela remembers her Grandmother also lost her son and her daughter-in-law. She's hurting as well.
Angela doesn't say anything; she just nods and shakes her head, which is weird because she always has something to say. But these days, she barely has the words. She's still traumatised.
"Everything is going to be alright, sweetie, in time it will all be alright." Her Abuela says, and the only thing Angela can do is let out a sigh and look out the window, admiring Los Angeles and its beauty. Her new life with her Grandmother begins now.
Her Grandmother pulls up at a mansion filled with flowers, a fountain in the middle, and it's surrounded by cherub angels. Angela used to come here to visit her Grandmother, but she never thought she'd be living here at all.
As soon as she gets out of the car, a group of maids walk over to her, says hi to her and her grandmother, and they get Angela's things from the trunk of the car.
"Mi Amor, please come, I'll show you to your room." Her grandmother says, and they both fold their arms as they walk into the house.
Angela doesn't know why her Grandmother wants to show her to her room when she already knows where it is. It's the room she's been sleeping in every time she visits her Grandmother.
The house reminds her of Thanksgiving, but most time of Christmas. The china plates she has decorated almost everywhere, and also the Russian dolls. The decorations here are so diverse, you wouldn't think it was a Mexican woman who was living here.
Angela spots pictures of her father, and she immediately looks away. She'd better get used to it because she's going to be seeing those pictures more often. She cannot hide away from pain forever; sooner or later, she's going to have to address it and just conquer it. She's used to hiding from pain, but now not anymore.
She wants to be a new person, nicer, kinder. Not the kind of person who lets someone drown.
She's a changed person.
And it's funny to her how all it took for her to change was a car accident and her parents dying. She believes Karma is coming for her, and a car accident isn't the only thing karma has in store for her.
Angela walks into her room to see her bags already in the room.
Wow, that was fast. She thinks.
Her room looks just the way she always leaves it. It was more childish when she was a kid, with lots of pink, but now it's more mature, and it's been done up for her by her kind Grandmother.
Purple curtains, mature bedsheets that replaced Mickey Mouse sheets, and a poster of Madonna and Backstreet Boys on the wall. A radio set, and so much more. A typical room setting for a teenage girl in the nineties.
"I hope you love it here. I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable." Abuela says. Angela sits on her bed, and she smiles at her Abuela; her smile is small, not that wide. Angela is so beautiful that even her fakest smile can make her look otherworldly.
The long, jet dark hair, the honey brown eyes, heart-shaped lips and a little mole on her left cheek. Her face is unique, not a kind of face you see in America.
"Alright, honey, you can wash up and get ready for dinner. If you need anything, please tell me, okay?"
"Okay, thank you, Abuela," she says so calmly, and her Abuela nods, hesitates before leaving the room. When the door closes, Angela sighs, the smile on her face falls flat on the ground, and she covers her face with her hands.
The memories of her being mean to people, playing a prank that killed a girl, which led to her parents' death.
She allows herself to break down.
She cries and cries and cries, but she does it silently.
She places her hand on her chest and another on the wood of the bed, and then the wood breaks in two. Angela stops crying immediately, and she looks at the wood in shock.
"What the hell?" she asks herself, staring at the wood, super confused.
Was the wood just weak, or is she that strong?
She believes it's the first one because she doesn't think she's that strong.
She can't be.