“I am mad at ....” I could not even tell him why I was mad. He would try to make me feel better and I knew that no matter what he did, I would not...feel better. In the end of it all, he was going to get married tomorrow and I was going to go back home to ... nothing. Just another day in the life of me, I suppose. “Mad at what,” he asked me, genuinely curious as to what I was mad at. “Come on Abby, what are you mad at.” “I am mad at me okay,” I said in a harsh tone, pulling away from him. I could. Vicky and Karla were best friends. They had met about a year and a half ago at the mini-mall by her house. Vicky was taking a large sum of money out of the ATM machine for her rent because her landlord at the time always wanted to be paid in cash. He was a bit slimy looking but he was always nice to her so Vicky never questioned why. After getting the money from the ATM, Vicky had started to walk away but stopped when this girl started yelling to her.Karla: “Hey! Excuse me! Miss! You just. More

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