Powdered Desolation

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Hello! I just love the song above! I don't own anything!

Tell me what you think about Angel! I love hearing y'all's opinions! I'll try to start responding more๐Ÿ˜Š



Angel's eyes opened slowly then clenched shut as a thin ray of light blurred through the gray bedsheet that hung loosely infront of the small, grimmy window. She huffed at the weight of the arm flung around her waist and shoved it off before sitting up and leaning against the wall that the mattress was pushed against. A dull pain pounded in her head, but she took no notice to the discomfort. It had become somewhat a constant in her life that she had grown quite a tolerance to. A groan came from the man laying next to her.






"Morning," he mumbled. Angel hummed in response and reached over for the bottle of Advil on the night stand. Not caring how many she took, she blindly popped a small palm full of tablets and washed them down with the last of the vodka. He gazed at her with dull eyes; Ronnie had always admired her recklessness. His rough hand traced up her stomach with a rolled hundred, as a smirk flickered on his thin red lips at the memory of the previous night.






"I still got a few grams," he suggested, holding up a small baggie containing a white powder. Angel rolled her eyes, while pushing herself off the bed and searching the floor.






"I don't bump," she muttered, pulling up her dress. "I don't do hardcore, either. You do." He chuckled.





"Come on, baby."





"I said no, Ronnie." Angel narrowed her eyes and snatched a cigarette off of the nightstand then lit it before taking a long drag. He shrugged.





"Where you going?"





"How the fuck does that concern you," the blonde huffed at the grinning man. "I'm going to school, dumbass."





"Oh, right. I forget."





She took another drag before wordlessly making her way out of the loft.





"You coming tonight?" He yelled.






"Maybe. Maybe not."






"Sylvia and Grace are stopping by. Wanna get in on the action?"







Angel rolled her eyes. She never slept with Ronnie while he was with his other girls, but he always asked. Angel knew she was just a fuck to him, and she was okay with that. That's all he was to her. She didn't bother to respond; he knew her answer. Breathing in a breath of fresh air, she sighed quietly before putting her cigarette out and opening her trunk. She quickly changed out of her dress and into the spare clothes that she kept in her trunk then tied her hair up. Her eyes scanned the inside of the car as she put the key in the ignition. School would be over in an hour. She didn't see the point of going.








When she arrived home, the first thing she noticed was that Elena was there, and she had company. Opening the door, the blonde felt the burning sensation of two people peering at her. "Stefan, Bonnie," she greeted nonchalantly.








"Hey, Angel. We didn't see you at school, are you feeling okay?" Bonnie asked with narrowed eyes and a small frown. Stefan stood stiff as he took in her appearance. Angel ignored the Salvatore vampire and shot the Bennett girl an easy grin; she liked the other witch well enough, but Angel was familiar with the Bennett family's critical habits and had grown tired of others feeling obligated to judge her faults when they were completely ignorant to their own.







"Oh, yes. That's so kind of you to ask." Her voice was low and alluring, holding the same cold bite in it that it seemed to always maintain. "And how are you, Bonnie? Got anything magical going on?" A dull, hollow grin stretched its way onto her chapped lips as Bonnie's eyes widened with surprise.







"What do you kno-"







"Hey, do one of you know where my jacket is? Oh, hello, Angel." Bonnie's question wad interrupted as Elena came skipping down the stairs. Angel's unwavering gaze remained on the paled Bennett as she greeted her twin briefly.



"We're going to the Grill," Stefan said, his intense stare glued to her usual guarded form.



"Fun," Angel hummed lazily.




"Do you...want to...come with us?" Elena asked in a hesitant voice. Angel knew when she wasn't wanted, and, honestly, she was fine with being segregated from her sister's soon-to-be groupies. The blonde girl had lived many lives, but they all ended the same. Her twins' lives all played out similar.





"No," she replied, before throwing an empty smile at Elena. The blonde did not miss the relief that drifted across her twin's doe-eyes. Angel had just spared Elena from the public humiliation of being seen with the town's damaged enigma.





"Your jacket's on the kitchen table," Angel hummed, while walking past the group and making her way to her room.

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