"Marshall Decker, previously married to Marissa Ortega, is dead and has been for years because he'd been murdered by Zhalil." I threw the papers down onto the table and allowed Antonio to skim through the files. I sat in silence and watched him study each paper before he picked up the photo and stared at it. His expression changed to one of confusion as he spotted Angel's father.

"Why he in the same photo with Zhalil and Victoria?" He asked, putting it back down onto the hard surface beffore sliding it over to me. I took it back, holding the picture between my index in middle finger, turning it in my direction to have a closer look at it. I've done nothing but look at this pictures for hours straight.

"That's the same question I asked myself." I told him, flipping the photo over, no longer wanting to look at their bothersome faces. "I knew when I saw it in Zhalil's office that he was obviously related to Angel. They were way too identical for me to deny the resemblance." Tone nodded his head at what I was saying, prompting me to continue.

"But that isn't my main worry. I was focused more on why he was with them and for what purpose." And the fact that I didn't know anything. Zhalil nor Victoria has ever spoken of him before. For someone to be posing in a picture with the former leaders of this cartel, he was obviously an important figure in this organization some time ago. "I've been thinking about this. Probably a lot more than I should." I said to Tone, sitting back in my chair as I rest my elbow on the table, softly grazing my thumb over my fingers. "As disappointed as I am to admit it, I must say that there is obviously more about this family then I thought."

"Why did you say disappointed?"

I side eyed him. "Because I know everything, Tone. Yet I know nothing of this shit." I motioned for him to hand over the files again so that I can have another look at them. He gave me the papers and I put away Marshall's paper which didn't have much on it, since I saw no need to look at his again for now. Instead my focus will be on Marissa. I haven't dug into her information deep enough. It seems as if she should have been the main focus in the first place, judging by what I have gathered over the last few days.

"You keep looking at his mother's file." He observed.

"Correct."

"What's up with her, then?"

I skimmed over the words, trying to find the certain section I was in search of. When I found it, I placed my finger over the letters and turned the papers around for Antonio to see. "Annalise Scott? Who the fuck is that?"

"Again. Something I asked myself." I told him, putting the paper back on the table while staring down at it. "Under the name there's a date stamped, 11/25/07."

"What does that mean?"

I placed my hand under my chin. "That means that's the date she officially changed her name. That's what she's been going by in the public eye since late 2007." I told him. Tone leaned forward in his seat, crossing his arms on the tabletop.

"So the question becomes why did she change her name?"

"Exactly."

"Hmm." Tone remained quiet for a little bit, and I watched him as he thought for a while for a logical explanation. "When did your father kill Marshall?" He asked, and I shrugged. That was another thing that I didn't know, along with Zhalil's reason why he did it. But I was aware that it happened when Angel was very little. He had told me that he hardly has memories of him previously.

"Maybe Zhalil was coming for her and Angel next. You know if he kills one family member he's coming for all of them. She must've known and had to take cover to protect her and her child. If I'm not mistaken, they're not originally from here. That's what I got from the file at least." I nodded my head to confirm his question. "And I'm guessing Angel knows nothing about this."

A small part of myself was slightly confused. How had he not found her yet? Marissa changing her name should not have put him at a disadvantage. Why is she still alive? "Right." I finally told him, reaching behind me to grab another paper off of my desk to show him. "I was watching Angel and his mother have a conversation through the cameras I set up in his home when they arrived a few days ago." I watched Tone look over the freshly printed photo, holding it up to his face to take a closer look. "Marissa had given Angel a picture book."

"Of?"

"Memories. Family photos."

He was still trying to make out what was going on in the first picture which made irritated. "Look at what's in Angel's hands, Antonio." He flickered his eyes downward, looking at what I told him to. "It says his full name and date of birth on the back of a photo. Now look at the other picture where it's flipped over." He did as I said and looked at the second one.

I went on to explain because I know he'd need a little bit of background. "His mother is laying in the hospital bed, and his dad is standing up but Angel is not being held by either of them." I said, and he caught on quickly.

"He being held by whoever is talking to Marshall." Tone answered me. I reached behind my chair and picked up the last paper I printed out and slid it over to Tone as he lit a blunt in the meantime. It was a zoomed in version of the previous picture.

I couldn't make out much of the unknown person, so I thought the picture to be useless since I couldn't see anything. But that was until I got a close up on something that caught my eye. To make it clearer, I had it cleaned up so that it wouldn't be so blurry and pixilated. It was then that some things were starting to make sense.

"Look closely at the hand of who's holding Angel. Where have you seen that tattoo?" He narrowed his gaze for a few moments as he inhaled the blunt, and exhaled the smoke. It didn't take long for him to realize who this person was. He put the paper back down.

"That's your pops."

I nodded again. "He knew Angel's mother and of his existence far before I met him." I told Antonio. Slowly, things are coming together. This picture brought back the memory of when my father told me I needed to get rid of Angel or else he'd take care of it himself. Ah, well, certainly he didn't say that to my face but I'm no fool. I knew what he was getting at.

He most likely wanted Angel and his mother dead because they are related to Marshall, who he obviously had beef with in the past. But over what? They are a target for not only my plan, but my father's. The only issue about this is that I don't exactly know how he will go about it. That means I will have to be 10 steps ahead instead of 2. And I knew exactly what to do first.

I decided to keep that to myself, for now. "In the footage I notice that Angel was confused as to who it could be and he even went on to ask Marissa who it was because he couldn't tell. She took it from him and told him that she would hold onto it." I revealed to him, pleased as he nodded his head in understanding. "I think this tells us a huge chunk of what we need to know, but not all of it. I'm nowhere near finished."

Antonio shook his head as he stared down at the picture with Angel's mother in it. "She knows what happened to his father and kept this from him for all these years?" I hummed in confirmation and gathered up all of the papers, pinning them together as I tossed them onto my desk. "So do he just think his dad disappeared into thin air?"

"Nah." I did the same as Tone did a minute ago, lighting up a blunt. "Angel is a smart boy. He knows something happened, but just not what. He also doesn't suspect that his mother knows anything."

"Don't she know what kind of damage that's probably done to him? I mean, his father suddenly becomes absent from his life at a young age. 'No one knows anything' about what could have happened to him, including his own mother?"

He asked, more to himself than anybody else. "I don't know about you but if I was in his position that would fuck me up." He looked disappointed. "I mean, think about how he would feel if he found...." he trailed to a stop, slowly looking up at me. "Wait. Why does all this matter to you anyway? Why go so far to figure out this information?"

There was an uneasy edge to his voice. I grinned. "Because if I get all that I'd need, everything will go as planned Antonio."

"What kind of plan?"

"I will make sure you live to see what happens." Was all I told him. "Now. Like I said, that's not nearly all I need to know. There are still plenty of pot holes." I said to him as I stood up in my chair. He did the same, straightening himself out. I exhaled the smoke from the blunt as I grabbed two guns off of my desk. I tossed one over to Tone and kept one for myself. "We have more people to interrogate. But first, we have a job to do."

"Well, who's next on our list?"

"I think you know."

Tone paused. "Eh, Zhalil?"

"No. Think of someone worth nothing more than dog shit."

"Hey Ange, could you grab a case of soda for me?" Asked my mom as I trailed behind her, watching over her intently as she pushed the cart. I refused to walk ahead because I felt paranoid that anything could happen if I wasn't looking out for her. At this point in time I'm honest enough with myself to admit that it really didn't make her any safer, yet it made me feel as if I'm actually preventing something bad from happening.

I nodded my head and asked her what she wanted me to pick up. She responded by telling me that I could pick out whatever I wanted. I faced the selection of sparkling beverages in distaste. I haven't had a can of soda in a long time now. Zhayne isn't a fan of it in the first place and has expressed to me how fucking disgusting it is, so he never bought it or allowed me to drink it. Now that it's been so long I'm not sure if I have a taste for soda. However, I picked up a case of Sprite anyway and put it in the cart. I probably wouldn't drink any.

"You haven't put any snacks in the cart yet." My mom told me as we turned down the snack aisle. She picked up 3 boxes of Twinkies and threw it into our pile of groceries which consisted of hardly anything but junk food. Usually I would be the one leading my mother around, asking her to buy me any and everything I saw that seemed appealing. Now I don't really have an appetite for anything. Nothing makes my mouth water anymore.

"I don't want to consume too much unhealthy food." I answered her, not sparing the sweet treats a second glance. I really didn't care for any of it. I'm not even sure why I came along if I didn't want to pick out anything for myself. Mom turned around and gave me an odd stare, but continued to push the cart toward the self checkout station after looking at me as if she were contemplating on if I'm real or not.

"Okay...well, how does Chipotle sound?"

Even the thought of my old favorite restaurant made me sick. "No thank you." I answered, taking items out of the cart and ringing them up. This made her grab my arm and look up at me, truly looking concerned. In fear of the sudden action, I pried it out of her firm grasp and shoved my hand back under my sleeve to hide my ring finger again. "S-sorry. I would just much rather have you cook tonight." I picked at my fingernails nervously under the warm cloth.

She furrowed her brows but didn't say anything else about that matter and resumed scanning the groceries with my help, which left me relieved. I don't want to end up answering too many questions, which she would ask. Knowing my mother it would turn into some interrogation rather than a talk.

We rang everything up in silence and drove home soon after. She stopped by the ice cream place nearby and grabbed me a small plain vanilla ice cream cone. I looked at her, confused as she handed it over to me when she got back in the car. "You need all the sugar you can get." Was what she told me. I didn't want to eat it but I managed to down it anyway.

Though by the time we pulled up to our home I felt sick to my stomach. The strong urge to hurl up my insides became almost unbearable, but I was somehow able to hold it back. My mom asked me if I was okay and I just nodded, rounding up the grocery bags and heading into the house. I held the door open for her and she went in before me, leaving me to lock it behind the both of us.

I developed a habit of constantly looking through the peephole whenever my mother and I settled in for the night. Not only that, but I found comfort in sleeping closer to the window in my room so that I could look outside whenever I wake up. I have trouble sleeping at night now, so I will wake up multiple times due to nightmares. There have been occasions where I don't sleep at all, hence the awful purple bags that have begun to form under my eyes not too long ago. I was a literal walking zombie.

I helped my mom put the groceries away once I felt assured that there was no one waiting outside my house to slit our throats. She reminded me to leave out the ingredients she would need to prep the meal for this evening. She also told me not to go far because she would need some assistance in the kitchen tonight, so I stayed propped up on the couch in the living room watching whatever came on TV when I turned it on.

As always when it came to television, I got plainfully bored and ended up flipping through channels. Nearly everything is so tedious to me now because I'm so used to locking myself in my thoughts throughout most of the day. If anyone else were in my position I'm more than positive they would be glad to return home with the luxury of watching TV, especially if they've been away from it for some time but I don't care. It did nothing for me.

Even though my mind was growing to be the most troublesome part about me, I also couldn't ignore that it was becoming the most entertaining in the worst way possible.

My mom came treading back into the living room to sit on the couch with me after a little over 15 minutes had gone by. "Alright I'm going to let the seasoning soak in the chicken for a while before I start boiling the noodles. I'll have you do that for me when I'm ready." I told her okay and looked at the screen ahead, noticing that it was the news channel.

The moment I registered the fact that they were reporting another dozen dead bodies found that were labeled as unrecognizable, I turned it off not wanting to hear it anymore. I didn't know for a fact that it was Zhayne, but I know his tastes. He is fond of leaving his victims beyond recognition. He would tell me that the life wasn't worth taking if they still looked the same way they did when they were alive. I grimaced.

I saw mom glance over at me from the corner of my eye. "Why'd you turn it off?" She asked.

"I don't want to hear about anymore dead people being reported on the news. It's extremely exhausting, you know?" I know she was slightly confused but I didn't care to explain to her why I said it, nor could I anyway. I mentally cursed myself as I noticed that I've been allowing anything to come out of my mouth. If I keep this up I'll eventually say the wrong thing.

There was a long pause. The silence dragged on for a few minutes. I didn't feel uncomfortable. Quite frankly I was enjoying it. My mother clearly begged to differ when she spoke up soon enough. "Angel, I need to ask you a question." She says, and I nod to silently tell her to go on.

Mom releases a small and hesitant sigh. "Are you going to head back to school?" She asked me, studying me intensely from the opposite side of the sofa as I started to mess with the hem of my thick sweater nervously. I knew that at some point she would want to talk about this. She was nice enough to lay off about the matter for a couple of days, so that we could enjoy our time together after having not seen each other for some months straight.

But now that her and I have settled in for 3 days and have gotten used to being around each other again, she decided that it was time to get down to business. I was hoping that she would forget about it all together but I was stupid to do so. One thing I need to let go of is hope. It seems as if I haven't learned my lesson yet, which still surprises me.

"No. Probably not." I answered her question finally after I allowed the silence to between us linger for a while again. My mother crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked at me as if I were crazy. Judging by the way my thought process works now, I wouldn't be at all surprised nor offended if she thought of me that way. I am nowhere near in my right mind any longer. She just didn't know the extent.

"Do you care to explain why?"

I looked over at her, holding her gaze. "What would be the point? I'm already so behind. I've missed way too many days-" I stopped myself as I realized that wasn't even enough. "-months to just go back and expect the school to play catch up with me." I told her truthfully. "I might just have to repeat a year."

I knew by the look on her face as a reaction to what I said that she knew deep down that wasn't going to happen and I figured as much myself. Zhayne wouldn't allow me to go back to school. He won't let me do anything unless it involves him. The man controls every single aspect of my life, since it is no longer my own.

Even if I did have a choice to go back, if by some miracle Zhayne says I can, I wouldn't. At least not anytime soon. I've been through and still am going through way too much to focus on anything else but my current predicament. School is the very last thing on my mind and it's been that way for a long time. I couldn't care less about a fucking education. I wanted to say to her. I'm much too busy fighting for the both of our lives everyday and struggling miserably at it.

"But Ange...graduation..you can't just-"

"To hell with graduation, mom." I cut her off.

She was taken aback. "To hell with graduation? Are you fucking kidding me right now?" I noticed with each word her voice progressively rose. She was starting to get angry, and since I refused to give her answers so I completely understood why. She is not in the wrong here. I didn't have it in me to give her that same energy. I'm just so fucking exhausted. Tired. Drained of all energy.

"Angel. I'm starting to get extremely pissed off." Her face slowly turned to a deep shade of red while her chest heaved up and down as she reached over and forcefully turned me around to face her when I attempted to look away. Her blue eyes were dark, instead of dull. "You have never used that kind of attitude with me. What the fuck is going on with my son? I deserve answers." I removed her hand from my jaw, not wanting to be touched right now.

"I told you that I'm fine."

"You're fine?!" She yelled, seemingly struggling to find the right words. "Skipping school for months on end and not answering your phone when your mother calls is what you consider fine? Have you lost your fucking mind Angel?!" An overwhelming wave of guilt came over me because I realized that all I've done is lie since her and I reunited. Looking at how desperate and angry she was feeling in this moment made me want to cry. I felt like an utter piece of shit. She didn't deserve this.