1 Chapter one: Angel

"The order of table four is ready" I take both plates in my hands and turn to the elderly couple waiting for their food.

I work as a waitress in a small restaurant. Many would think that it is an unpromising job for a 19-year-old girl who put her studies aside, but this job is the only thing that helps me pay for my house if the pigsty where I live can be called home.

I leave the order on the table, trying to show a smile, but the fatigue of the day is overcoming me, and the "good vibes" that our boss forces us to have when serving the customers is leaving me completely. This week has been too exhausting. My days are summed up working, shopping, cleaning the house, and resting what little I have left at night. To then return to a new day of work with many people who believe they are superior to you simply by serving them. Many of those people forget that the next thing they are going to ingest passes through the hands of the person you are treating like garbage. They do not know the disgusting things I have seen my companions do with the dishes of extremely haughty and arrogant people. I have never had the courage to spit or ruin someone's food, but several times the thought has crossed my mind.

"Welcome to California Grill, my name is Nora García, and I will be your waitress today" I take out a small notebook and a pencil that I carry in the back pocket of my pants. "Are you ready to order, or do you want me to give you a few more minutes?"

"For now, bring me a beer and a glass of water for her," answers the man pointing to his companion.

"Right" I turn around to look for what they asked for

I keep waiting tables until my departure time finally arrives. I get to the bus stop just in time and take a seat, relieved. It's already too late, and I don't want to have to walk home through the dark streets of Los Angeles. At this hour, are not many people on the bus, just a woman and a rather unpleasant man who does not stop bothering me with his obsessive gaze. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, trying not to make eye contact with him. I can only breathe easy when he gets off at one of the bus stops. Then the lady comes down, and I am alone. When my stop finally arrives, I thank the driver, take my bag, and go downstairs. I snort, seeing the horrible facade of the hostel where I live, and with a tired step, I start to climb the stairs in silence, but the tiresome voice of the owner of the place stops me dry.

"Are you trying to avoid me again?" I go down the stairs a little to find her with crossed arms. "You owe me money, pretty" She makes a bubble gum bomb with her mouth and the sound of it exploding echoes in the small space where we are.

"Mrs. Mercedes, I promise that I will pay you" I look at her with pleading eyes. "The last week, I pay the hospital."

"You are the only tenant with whom I have problems, Nora," she sighs exaggeratedly. "Do you have any idea how many people have come here asking for a room? I don't want to have to throw you out on the street," She says with false concern.

The disgust I feel towards this woman is indescribable. Seeing how she mocks my financial status with false kindness makes me want to scream in her face that she is a horrible person, but I can only keep quiet if I don't want to lose the roof over my head.

"I will pay this week with interest," I propose, and I can see by the sparkle in her eyes that she will accept my proposal.

"Good, but if at the weekend I don't see my money, I'll take your things out on the street."

All I do is nod and go back to my mission of climbing the stairs with exhaustion on my feet. Once I enter my room, I take off my shoes by throwing them in the living room and letting go of my hair. Then, I open the door to my room to get clothes, soap, a towel, and some bathing shoes. Then I go down to the little bathroom they have for people who don't have one in their room. I make sure nothing touches the floor, and when I turn on the shower. I jump a little when I feel the cold water on my back, so I try to take a bath as fast as I can. When I'm done, I dry off with the towel and put on a white nightgown, matching color panties, and black shorts. When I get to my room, I take off my pants to be more comfortable and put my body under the sheets. When my head touches the pillow, I fall asleep almost instantly.

___________

I can feel my feet hurt like my whole body, but the fear of being caught was greater than the pain.

Don't stop running...

Run, Run, Run!

Incessant knocks on my door make me open my eyes, and I get out of bed afraid. I rub my eyes, trying to adjust to the little light that enters the room through the post near my window, and I look at the time on the clock on the bedside table.

3:08 a.m.

Another knock on the door.

I get out of bed and walk out of my room, wondering who it could be at this hour. Maybe it's the neighbor upstairs drunk again.

"Who is there?" I ask from the inside; I do not receive an answer, but the blows do not stop, and they become stronger. "I am armed!" I shout, taking a frying pan from the kitchen as a weapon.

I took the doorknob in my hands, and I hesitated for a few seconds before opening and setting the pan upright. I am frozen with the vision in front of me. A tall, dark-haired boy is holding onto my doorframe, trying not to fall. His face is all bruised, and his white shirt is covered in blood. Unable to hold on for much longer, he falls forward and is so heavy that I can barely hold him. The frying pan in my hands falls to the ground, and I try to lower the boy into my arms carefully.

"Oh my God..." I whisper, leaving him on the ground. "I will call an ambulance" I get up to look for my phone, but his hand on my wrist stops me.

"No," he whispers with pain. "Please, no, I just need to rest."

Are you planning to spend the night at my house? I couldn't leave him in my living room bleeding to death, but from his strong grip on my wrist, I know he wouldn't let me go for help. As I can, I help him up, take him to sit on the couch, and get a cloth and some ice. I go back to him and bend down to wipe the blood from his face. This situation is beyond me. My trembling hands clumsily try to clean the wounds of the almost unconscious man on my couch. Panic begins to take hold of me, and I feel that at any moment, I will begin to cry because of the stress and helplessness that this situation causes me.

The man complains, and I can only whisper an apology under my breath. He takes his hands to his sore abdomen, and I proceed to remove the bloody shirt from above his head. I gasp when I see the bruises on his abdomen and chest, but what strikes me most is an already healed scar on the right side of his abdomen. One of his arms is tattooed from the elbow to just below the shoulder, but I can't really appreciate the drawings because of the lack of light. Not knowing if it was the right thing to do, I put a piece of wet cloth on one of the green spots on her abdomen and asked her to press it. Then I move away from him a little bit, wondering if I should call the ambulance or the police. What if he is dangerous? Or if the people who did this come looking for him? My mind was divided about what I should do in this situation. The phone is next to him, on a table I have next to the couch. I have to reach in and get it. With slow steps, I walk over there and pick it up, and with trembling hands, I dial the emergency number.

"Please don't," He says again, "Please..." He begs.

I hesitated as I listened to the ER girl speak on the other end of the line. His dark eyes look at me pleadingly, and my weak side decides to help him, so I hang up the call. I approach him and touch his head with my hand.

''You're burning," I say, worried, and I notice how sweaty he is.

I find another wet cloth and put it on his forehead. I lift his head onto my lap since I will apparently have to watch over him all night. I don't want to wake up the next day with a corpse on my couch. He doesn't stop shaking, and I'm getting more and more nervous.

"Quiet angel, I'll be fine," he whispers, closing his eyes.

Angel...

As soon as that word leaves his lips, I can feel the heat flood my cheeks, and I appreciate that the room's darkness prevents him from noticing it. Although in his state, quite possibly he would not notice it. I spent the rest of the night, making sure his temperature doesn't continue to rise and praying that this was all just a nightmare.