Nudge was next to crack.
She'd always been the bright and bubbly and talkative one. She'd always had her hair done, and her clothes clean and tidy.
She'd now go hours without a word, just staring off into space. Her hair was a mess, full of snags and tangles.
I pitied her.
That empty shell of a girl – a part of her died with Gazzy. They'd always been close, shut out by us older three and uninterested in baby Angel.
Was Angel right, she asked us one evening when she felt like speaking.
She too, was gone the next morning.