Angel West grew up a kindhearted, curious little girl. With her curled blonde pigtails and gap toothed smile, she brightened any room she walked into.
She liked coloring books. She loved to bake strawberry shortcakes with her Mom on Sunday evenings. She had fun catching lightning bugs in empty water bottles, and releasing them after five minutes because she felt bad. She really enjoyed when her big brother would help her onto his skateboard, and guide her up and down the cracked sidewalks as she gripped onto his hands for dear life. She liked making mud pies in the fall out of sticks and dirt, and witches brews in the spring out of rain water and fragile pink flower petals.

But most of all? She loved butterflies. Oh, she loved butterflies. Orange ones, blue ones, monarchs swallowtails...she loved them all. Especially when they landed on her index finger when she walked home from school. Her father had promised he'd pick her up on his way home from work, but after a couple hours of sitting in the school's front office and getting angry glares from the office ladies who also wanted to go home, she deduced that he'd forgotten. That's okay! The butterflies were her favorite time of day. Besides, a little 2 mile walk never killed anyone.

It wasn't just the pretty insects she loved. She liked roly-poly bugs, too. Often times she'd scold her brother from trying to step on them at night while they sat on the front porch because they were locked out of their house, and their father was "preoccupied" in a drunken slumber on the living room couch. She liked how they tucked. She liked how they rolled. Roly-polies were just so damn cute. Smart, too! They rolled into balls with tough external shells to protect themselves when they felt endangered. Angel realized she learned a lot from the little insects. Maybe she even considered herself to be an honorary member of the Armadillidium Vulgare species! Like them, she rolled into a ball when she felt threatened, which was often. Usually it was a ball hidden underneath the butterfly-printed comforter on her bed as her father's heavy footsteps inched closer and closer to her bedroom door, but a ball nonetheless.

She loved a lot about the world. And even as the world gave her excuse after excuse, reason after reason to detest it, she never did.

But then again...she was a stupid, naïve kid back then.

Angel West eventually grew into an angry, traumatized teenager. She liked slamming doors hard enough to make the walls shake. She hated wooden harbors filled with crates and empty roller rinks. She hated the hospital. She loved getting high with weed she stole from Cig's stash, while she laid on her back on the cold metal bleachers after school and stared up into nothingness. She hated the taste of sea salt and the sound of rushing water. She liked fighting, especially for those who couldn't fight for themselves. She really enjoyed pissing people off, either for her own enjoyment or because they deserved it. She liked cloudy skies and rainy days. A thunderstorm that never let up felt like a metaphor she related to more than she was willing to admit.
But most of all? She loved striving to be better than Cash West ever was. She was angry. Cash was too. She was hardheaded. Cash was too. She liked to defend the helpless. Cash did too. But she believed that what set them apart, was that Angel made a vow. A vow to never leave someone who needed her behind. She sang high to her brother's praises back then, but now she wanted nothing to do with him—let alone be like him.

Ironic, considering she was walking down the road he paved.

Sometimes she wondered if their mother would be disappointed in them. Would she reprimand them in that jarring Mississippi accent of hers? Yell at them about how she raised them better than that, and how they should love each other no matter what because they're family? Would she thump them upside their heads for acting so selfishly? How would she feel knowing one of her children landed himself in federal prison and the other lost faith in the world?

Thanks to her brother and his enemies, Angel knew she'd never get the chance to find out.

Almost no one took a hit as hard as she did when her brother was imprisoned. Obviously, there was one exception. Sure, she hadn't been shot point blank like Ollie was, but that wasn't Cash's fault. What happened to her was. And sometimes she wished she'd been shot instead.
The foster system was a living hell. She was pushed and shoved from home to home, never staying in one place for too long. A young vulnerable girl like her was never safe in a system like that. The foster brothers were unwavering and touchy, and the foster fathers were worse. They'd come into the small damp rooms she was given at night, and do things that they claimed would be "Their little secret." Better that than threats of "Tell anyone and I'll kill you.". She fought them for a long time, but eventually, her fighting flame went out. It was hard to fight day in and day out after losing everything and everyone you loved. No matter where she went, she'd get hurt. It was inescapable. And the foster mothers always turned blind eyes to her pain, because all that mattered was the government stipend they'd get every month.

A lousy four-hundred dollars in exchange for someone's self worth—Angel often found herself thinking—What a joke.

She endured the impossible for over a year, before Tiana and AJ came to her rescue. By then it was too late. The girl that Angel once was had died, and they'd never get her back. The new, but maybe not improved, girl they found was someone they weren't used to. This girl had come to terms with what was necessary for survival.
She toughened up. She dried her tears.
It was kill or be killed.

But that's just how life was in Woodland Heights.

*

8:15 AM

Angel walked the crowded halls of Woodland Heights High, pretending not to notice the stares and glares of her fellow senior peers. Everyone knew her, because everyone knew Cash. The Seven 20's, and now the Hearts, made an even bigger name for themselves around the Heights. A lot of people feared, and respected, the last name West. They'd been going to school with Angel for years, and they always thought she was just the sweetest little thing. Smart, kind, bright. That changed the day she came to school covered in bruises from being jumped into the Hearts—per her request. Now the student body steered clear.

Well, except Maggie Westfield of course.

Angel was busy retrieving her less than ideally kept forensics textbook from her cluttered locker when she felt a body slam into hers.

"Hey, what the fu—" She stopped short upon noticing it was just her overhyped best friend who was practically foaming at the mouth.

"Dude, you will never fucking guess who asked me out!" Maggie whispered excitedly.

Unlike her best friend counterpart, Maggie had grown into exactly who she was meant to be over the past three years. She was popular; like, top of the social food chain popular. She won Homecoming Queen three years running. She held the school track record and was on par for competing at State. She was in the running for Senior Class President, and the most likely person to win. Her long, neat box braids with brown and teal beads on the ends captured her essence, and the gold jewelry she adorned her neck, ears, fingers, wrists, and nose with were as beautiful as she was. Everyone loved her, but there was one thing that made her odd in the eyes of the public. Something that left them stumped and confused. Why a girl like Maggie would stick around a girl like Angel for so long was a question with an answer way beyond their comprehension.

Angel snorted, closing her locker shut and leaning her tattooed back against it. "Swing in the dark. Atticus Kaufman."

"Atticus Kauf—wait, how'd you guess?" Maggie frowned at her ruined surprise.

"You've been drooling over him since the fifth grade." Angel chuckled. "Nobody else would get you this excited."

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest, pouted, and furrowed her perfectly shaped brows. "You're an asshole."

"Thanks."

The pair laughed at each other when the bell for first period rang through the air, bouncing and echoing off the metal lockers. Textbook in hand, Angel slung her bag over her shoulder and followed her best friend down the hallway. They walked side by side as Maggie went on and on about the dark skinned, curly haired boy with braces that she'd been crushing on for years. Angel could admit she wasn't exactly listening. Boys were a topic she did not find interesting in more ways than one.

"You're oddly quiet this morning."

The words caught Angel's attention as she turned to Maggie, confused. "Huh?"

Maggie squinted suspiciously. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened."

"You have to tell me."

"I don't have to tell you shit."

"Yes you do. It's in the bestie bylaws."

"No it's not, and no I don't."

"Yes you do."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Okay, fine!" Angel huffed, annoyed of her friends pushiness.  "It's about Cash."

Maggie raised an eyebrow. "What about him? Ay Dios mio, he's not dead, is he?! People 'mysteriously' die all the time in federal custody. Please tell me he's okay."

"Unfortunately he is very much alive." She replied. "It's just...his visitation privileges were restored."

"Oh, shit! That's great news!" Maggie grinned, nudging Angel with her shoulder.

Angel couldn't muster up even the tiniest hint of a fake smile. "Right now I'm the only person allowed to visit him."

"And let me guess. You don't want to."

"Mhm."

Maggie sighed. "Personally, I'm a 'forgive and forget' kind of gal but I know that's not how you roll so...what are you going to do?"

It was refreshing to know someone wanted to hear Angel's opinions on the subject, rather than have them force their own ideals onto her.

"I dunno." She shrugged. "At first, I refused."

"But...?"

"But then Ollie said something that has me rethinking."

"You? Rethinking? That's a first." Maggie chuckled, ignoring the annoyed look Angel was shooting at her.

As annoyed as she was, she couldn't help but chuckle. Her stubbornness had multiplied tenfold, so Maggie wasn't all that wrong. She still couldn't ignore the nagging voice in the back of her mind telling her that maybe she should follow Ollie's advice. She realized that she actually yearned to see the look on Cash's face when she told him what he did to her. She wanted to see the guilt. She wanted to see him crumble—suffer. Suffer just like she had. Often, the gangs told her not to harbor so much hate for her brother, but she couldn't help it.  She felt that anyone in her position would feel the same.

Maggie and Angel continued down the cramped halls, chatting quietly to themselves. Well, Maggie was doing most of the talking. Angel listened intently, taking quick glances at her friend with a soft fondness in her eyes. To her, Maggie felt like the last sense of familiarity and normalcy that she had left. She hadn't shifted their relationship in three years, no matter what happened to Angel or how she changed, Maggie never treated her any differently. She didn't falter. And that's what Angel loved about her.

"Look," Maggie snickered sarcastically, snapping Angel out of her thoughts. "There go your best friend."

Confused, Angel looked up and found herself caught in the gaze of none other than Gabriella Trueheart. The 17 year old, Cuban-American goody-two shoes who loved to get under people's skin—especially Angel's. In a shocking turn of events, Maggie had surpassed her on the social ladder, and to no one's surprise, Gaby did not appreciate it. The amount of times they cursed each other out in Spanish was more times than Angel could count on all her fingers and toes. And don't get her started on the times she had to physically prevent Maggie from jumping Gaby at the first chance she got. Angel would be damned if her best friend lost a full ride scholarship opportunity due to some stupid fights on her record. Still, unfortunately, avoiding Gaby was impossible, as she and Angel still played on the same soccer team. Well, whenever Angel decided to show up for practice. The only reason she hadn't been kicked off yet was because her coach was scared of her. 

"Be nice." Angel muttered under her breath to Maggie as Gaby made her way to the two of them.

Maggie sneered. "No promises."

Gaby approached them, and didn't bother to hide her annoyance. Angel couldn't help but give her a sly once over. She had to admit, Gaby did look good. The short baby blue tennis skirt, simple white short sleeved crewneck shirt that showed her mid-drift, and delicate gold jewelry all suited her nicely. Her shiny, dark hair fell down her back in perfect waves, and everything she wore—all the way down to her socks—was pristine and clean. Even the way she held herself left no room for error.

"Angel. Magnolia."

"Cun—I mean, Gabriella." Maggie shot back.

Ignoring Maggie's near purposeful slip up, Gaby turned to Angel. "Coach wants me to talk to you."

Angel raised her eyebrow. "Right now?"

"Yes." Gaby grimaced. "Right now, West."

Maggie shot her friend a confused glance, to which she could only shrug in response.

Angel adjusted the strap of her backpack and sighed. "I'll see you later, Mags. Oh, and Tia said come by the house tonight."

Maggie's harsh gaze was still fixed on Gaby as she replied, "Yeah, I'll be there."

With a final look at Angel, and an annoyed snarl at Gaby, Maggie eventually sauntered off. It wasn't a long journey down the hallway before she was found by another group of her peers, and took off laughing with them to class. Angel, on the other hand, turned to Gaby to speak, only to see she had already started walking away. Angel shook her head—her short blonde curtain bangs falling in front of her face in the process—and followed after her. She was a few steps behind as her and Gaby made their way into an empty classroom for the "chat".

"Close the door behind you." She ordered, throwing her soccer bag onto an empty desk.

Angel sighed, and turned to the door to close it. "Alright, bossy."

The moment Angel turned back around, Gaby's lips crashed into hers. She was shocked at first, completely blindsided by it, before melting at the sensation. Almost instinctively, Angel's hands found their way to the small of Gaby's back, pulling her in closer. Gaby's arms threw around Angel's neck, keeping her close and holding her tight. One thing Angel had garnered from her brother over the years was his height, as she'd grown to a whopping 5'7 during the time. She definitely towered over Gaby, who was 5'3. 5'4 on a good day. Still, Angel found herself lost in the moment. The kiss was passionate and lustful before she regained conscious thought and pulled back to chuckle.

"I didn't know you missed me that much." She smirked.

Gaby grinned, gripping tight to the collar of Angel's raggedy washed out Sublime T-shirt. "You're the one who wanted to keep this a secret."

"Maggie would kill the both of us."

Gaby rolled her eyes and turned away, moving to sit on the desk she threw her bag on.

"C'mon, don't be like that." Angel frowned.

"I didn't say anything."

Angel pushed off the door frame and walked over to Gaby, placing her hands gently on her hips.

"Hey, you know it's not just Mags we have to hide this from." She frowned. "Or would you rather be a social outcast like me when the whole school finds out that you're kissing the 'dangerous gang girl'."

"I can't help myself." Gaby smirked. "Dangerous gang girl is hot."

If someone had told fourteen year old Angel that she'd be stealing these romantic moments with a girl who she swore she hated, she would've called them a flat out liar, and maybe even punched them in the face for saying something to blasphemous. But obviously, a lot can change in 1,095 days.

She found herself kissing Gaby again, smiling against her soft blushed lips in the process.

"So, did Coach actually want to talk to me or did you just wanna get me alone?" Angel asked, pulling away.

"A little bit of both." She admitted, wincing at the news she'd have to deliver. "She wants you off the team."

It was coming sooner or later. Angel knew she didn't have much of a place on the team anymore, especially since her chance of scholarships flew out the window months ago. She honestly didn't even know if college was still on the table. She hung her head and sighed.

"Yeah." She chuckled halfheartedly. "Saw that coming."

Gaby watched the blonde carefully, rubbing her perfectly manicured nails through the softness of Angel's hair.  "What's been going on with you lately?"

Admittedly, Angel wanted Gaby to have no part of what happened in her home life. She learned the hard way that when people got too close, they got hurt. She had first hand experience in that area. She ran her palm over her face, trying to wipe away some of her frustration and exhaustion.

"It's nothing."

"Angie, I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

Angel rubbed her thumb softly over Gaby's cheeks reassuringly. "I promise it's nothing."

But Gaby wasn't stupid. She didn't fall off the turnip truck yesterday. Angel's attitude wasn't normally as bad as it had been in the past days, which was saying something. Obviously something was happening to make her this way, but she refused to explain what. Tension was high, and Gaby just wanted to be let in. She was the type of girl who loved to be involved. Being locked out—shut out—wasn't something she was used to. Truthfully, she didn't like it.

Her brown eyes caught Angel's blue ones, and she realized she wouldn't be getting anywhere anytime soon. Her expression closed as she looked away, sighed frustratedly and hopped off the desk, pushing past Angel and swinging her bag over her shoulders. Angel frowned, watching her retreating back walk towards the door.

"Well, find me when you wanna tell the truth."

"Gabriella."

Angel's plea was ignored.

"Gaby!"

But it was too late. Gaby left the classroom and left Angel behind dumbfounded. She couldn't explain that she was protecting her. It was for her own good.

She groaned and threw her head back.

Women. She thought.

Angel floated mindlessly from class to class over the following hours, not particularly caring about the lessons she was being taught. She wasn't necessarily a bad student by any means. Her report card always sported low A's and high B's. With so much on her mind, she just couldn't find it in her to focus on anything else. By the time she'd gotten home to the gang house, her head was nearly pulsating with pain considering how much time she spent arguing with herself in her head.

"Yo, Ang." Cig greeted from the living room as the blonde threw her bag onto the floor and flopped exhaustively onto the couch. Princess laid on the couch next to him, belly side up and hoping for rubs since Cig obviously wasn't paying her enough attention.
"How was school?"

"Boring." She answered, rubbing her temples.

Cig chuckled, flicking open his solid gold Zippo lighter, putting a freshly rolled blunt to his lips, and lighting it up. Angel honestly wanted to take a puff, but didn't feel like getting scolded by Bluejay about the dangers of underage