I hated myself most at night.
That was when the guilt became unbearable. Not only for trusting a new town and a new school, but for every moment I convinced myself my daughter was simply growing up and that I needed to loosen my grip.
Angelica was only sixteen.
The phone call came while I was reheating soup in the kitchen. At first, all I heard was a calm police officer’s voice and an address repeated twice. I left the soup simmering on the stove and drove away without even turning the burner off.
When I arrived, blue emergency lights flashed across the rain-soaked street. Angie’s bicycle lay twisted beside the curb while her friends stood nearby, pale and shaking.
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