Cruel

Anabelle. I stabbed my plate of half-cooked lasagna with a fork, my eyes burning from crying. My grandmother, the one person closest to a mother that I had, was gone. The useless care home waited FIVE days to report her missing. There was no indication of foul play, or where she had gone. They said they brought her breakfast and her medication, only to discover she wasn’t in her room anymore. It was almost as if she had just walked out and decided to never come back. Dante went to the care home to take them on, no doubt making their lives hell. I hope he did, they sure as freak deserved it! The lasagna, which was still hard in the center, refused to break apart. I cried out in frustration, stabbing it even harder, twisting it with so much force that half of it flew out of my plate and splattered across the table. “Picturing my face?” Liam entered the room, and I instinctively lifted my fork and threw it in his direction. He managed to dodge it by inches, his brow shooting up with a que