Poor Angel

When I came to, I was lying on a hospital bed. George, his mother, Monica, and Sam, who had arrived at some point, were all there. I struggled to sit up and looked at Monica, "Where's Angel? My Angel?"

"Grace, she's still in the ICU under observation. Try not to worry!" Monica tried to reassure me.

I shakily got off the bed, and despite Monica's attempts to stop me, I yelled, "Don't hold me back! She's so young; she must be frightened! She's always been scared of doctors!"

"Grace... ..."

"Get out... get out..." I screamed with all my might, "All of you get out! I don't want to see any of you!"

Every member of the Smith Family in front of me filled me with utter loathing. The man who had been part of my life for ten years now seemed nothing more than a wolf in human clothing, heartlessly harming his own kin. He could coldly watch his own daughter being thrown around like a rag doll.