Weeping Angel: Malvada (Book 1 of the Weeping Angel Series)

Chapter XXIII

Last night was more than tense; we couldn't sleep at all, tossing and turning in our beds and jolting up to even the smallest noise like the branches hitting my window. We managed to wake up the next day around ten, feeling exhausted but glad that we didn't have school because this Friday was Professional Development Day.

After freshening up and taking a shower, the three of us march down the stairs, and I feel the chills go down my spine in memory of last night, and my hand subconsciously goes up to my head to graze the bandage covering my wound.

We stop a few feet away from the family room and look at each other with the same fear in our eyes.

"It's not going to hurt us, right? It's the day time, and it's only done crazy things at night," I say, trying to convince myself more than them.

Gabby shakes her head. "We don't even know if it's here or not. It could be anywhere in the house."

"Guys, look." Clarice points to the family room, and that's when we see it.

The coffee table that was shattered into pieces last night was neatly put together, looking brand new. The photos lying on the carpet covering the wooden flooring were hanging on the wall in their original spot like they never fell in the first place.

I let out a sigh of relief. "At least we won't have to explain anything to mom and dad. I heard heavy footsteps when I woke up. They're back."

I notice Gabby looking into the distance, a look of curiosity and confusion on her fair complexion. She runs a frustrated hand through her black hair and furrows her brows, glancing at me with wonder. "I don't understand, this has never happened before. Not even with Mason as far as I know."

I purse my lips. "I know, but at least we're all okay." Clarice and Gabby nod their head and agree with me. This could've been a lot worse than what actually happened.

Clarice suggests that we check if the statue was at its original spot above the fireplace in the living room. I reluctantly nod, and the three of us tiptoe to the living room and find the angel statue in its usual form and size, its hands covering its face.

"Should we throw it away or something for the time being?" I hesitantly ask, knowing that the statue would definitely return every time we got rid of it.

Gabby shakes her head. "We know it's harmless during the day. We're okay for now."

"We need to tell Mason and Ethan." And possibly Josh too is what I don't say.

Clarice turns to look at us with narrowed eyes. "I'm not going to wait around for the library to open. I need answers." What the hell? She starts walking to the foyer and hastily throws on her shoes and jacket, ignoring our questions and protests. She grabs the key from the little key hanger in the closet before opening the front door.

"I'll talk to you guys later," She deadpans and is about to walk out the door, but I place my hand on her shoulder.

I purse my lips together and study her. "Let me come with you." Clarice shakes her head, and I open my mouth to protest, but she silences me with just one look.

"No, it's okay. If you come, the statue might do something to mom and dad, so you need to stay here and look out for them." Why couldn't it be the other way around?

Clarice steps out of the house and rushes towards her car parked on our driveway. "I promise I'll tell you everything!"

Gabby and I exchange a nervous glance as Clarice hops inside the driver's seat after unlocking the car and swiftly pulls out of the driveway a few seconds later and drives away, leaving Gabby and I staring at her car as it disappears into the distance.

"What do you think she'll do, chica? The library is closed for all we know," Gabby asserts, turning to look at me thoughtfully.

I cock my head to the side, thinking about her words. Before I could say anything, we heard my dad's voice call out to us. Gabby and I reluctantly walk back inside the house, closing the door behind us.

"Who's this beautiful lady?" Dad nods his head towards Gabby with a gentle smile.

Gabby chuckles and brings out her hand in front of her. "Gabrielle, but 'beautiful lady' works just fine." They both chuckle, and I see mom come downstairs, her brows furrowing together as she observes Gabby with a thoughtful interest before scanning the room for Clarice.

"Where's your sister?" Mom walks towards us with a frown.

"Um," I stammer, trying to think of a good lie. "Her friend made last-minute plans to hang out, so they're out."

Mom looks at me skeptically, narrowing her dark green eyes at me. "Did you tell her to be home before 10?"

I slowly shake my head and bite my lower lip. Here it comes.

Mom shakes her head in disappointment and sighs, muttering something under her breath that sounded like, "You can't do anything."

I roll my eyes at her, clearly not in the mood to argue or talk to her.

Dad strongly suggests that Gabby and I join them for breakfast, and we both hesitate. I didn't want mom passing stupid, embarrassing comments in front of her.

"We won't bite, we promise." Mom winks, and I resist the urge to scoff. She was faking so hard.Gabby looks at me for approval, and I nod my head, and we follow my parents into the kitchen for an awkward breakfast.

***

I have never had such an awkward breakfast before.

Mom was trying her hardest to be sweet and friendly with Gabby by making small talk, while dad and Gabby talked with each other like long lost friends. Eventually, mom dropped her fake act and genuinely smiled and laughed with Gabby, and I felt my heart squeeze with longing and pain as they talked.

I zoned out in my own thoughts, thinking about my relationship with mom and how badly that progressed over the years.

It wasn't that she didn't want daughters; she's just been distant with me but would never verbally abuse me when I was little. As I got older, she realized I had the right to know and feel her hatred towards me. Her words usually got to me, but I never let myself show her or anyone else how much she affected me. I would throw on a guarded expression or bite back, but that never meant I hated her.

She's my mother, there was no possible way I could hate her, and sometimes that made me wonder if she really hated me or if there was some hidden reason she acted like the way she did with me.

That theory was undoubtedly proven wrong the day mom told me she wished she aborted me before. Every time I thought about it, it was as if someone was squeezing my heart and throat and repeatedly stabbing me everywhere. The tears pricked my eyes, but I would desperately try not to break down, reminding myself that things between mom and me will never change and that I had to accept what was true.

I had to push myself and be strong around mom, but it was hard when she would always find the opportunity to bring me down. As long as I was under the same roof as her, I wouldn't be able to believe in or trust myself; I wouldn't be able to accept my flaws or value the little accomplishments in my life.

I need to move out.