XII
Hazel Winters
A s I walk into Haven, my skin instantly feels hot, like someone is watching me. I glance around the big open space but don't see anyone. Trying to shake off the feeling, I walk into the locker room and put my bag away.
Last night was a mistake and the pounding headache leftover from all the alcohol I drank is just a painful reminder. It was stupid of me to let one of my bosses in like that.
To let anyone in like that.
Heading to the stockroom, I laden my arms with vodka and head to the bar. As I push the staff door open, Denise comes rushing towards me, knocking the bottles out of my hand. They fall to the ground as if in slow motion, before ricocheting up to splash me in the strong alcohol.
She, somehow, managed to remain unscathed by the incident and smiles smugly from a few metres away. I look down at my bare legs, regretting having worn a skirt today. Droplets of vodka run down my calves, but I don’t seem to have cut myself despite the pile of broken glass on the floor.
I sigh and rub a hand over my face.
I really didn’t need this today.
“Better go get cleaned up,” Denise folds her arms across her chest arrogantly. Her oversized lips form a sympathetic pout as she scans over my now-soaked body. She flips her blonde hair over her shoulder before sauntering away to the other end of the bar.
I roll my eyes and walk back to the staff room, ready to grab my bag and go home. My headache has increased tenfold, and I smell like an alcoholic.
At least it hides the smell of alcohol seeping out of my pores.
Chucking my bag over my shoulder, I send a text in the staff group chat to get someone to cover my shift before walking towards the main doors. One of the bosses calls my name from the balcony but I storm through the main doors, my anger levels rising too high for me to speak to anyone right now.
The winter breeze is especially cold on my damp skin as I step outside, making me shiver at the cold temperature. My phone buzzes and I check it to see that someone is coming to cover my shift.
I let out a sigh of relief and start walking home. Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down, I unlock my phone again, opening the group chat.
Me: I feel a bit sick so I’m going home.
Me: Talia is going to cover my shift.
I turn my phone onto ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode and slide it back into my coat pocket. The wind picks up and I quicken my pace home. My heart pounds in my chest to the same beat of my headache.
The feeling of someone watching me weighs heavy on me, fuelling my anxiety until a panic attack threatens. Tears fill my eyes, but I force them down as I practically run back to my flat.
Once I’m inside, I lock the door and place a chair in front of it, needing to do something to stifle my fear before it bubbles over the surface. I close all my blinds before quickly stripping off and stepping into the shower.
Using my old coping mechanisms to calm me down, I turn the dial to the coldest setting. The freezing stream cascades over my body. I shiver violently but stay directly under the spray, taking deep breaths as I close my eyes.
This is all too much, right now.
After staying in the shower until I physically can’t anymore, I wrap my dressing gown around me and climb into bed. I turn off the lights and plug my phone in, still not checking the notifications.
The adrenaline from my anxiety soon wears off and my eyelids become heavy until I succumb to sleep.
“Hazyyyyy… where are youuuu?” My father singsongs from down the hallway.
I force my book closed and turn off my bedside light before rolling over to face the wall in bed. I close my eyes, slowing down my breathing so it would seem I’m asleep.
The door creaks open and I fight the instinct to flinch. His heavy footsteps creep towards me, his breathing heavy and laboured as usual. The smell of alcohol radiates off him, burning my nostrils the closer he comes.
“Are you sleeping, Hazy?” he asks. I stay still, wishing that pretending to be asleep would deter him. But it doesn’t.
He removes my covers and climbs onto the bed, his large body making it creak below me. I keep silent as he removes my pyjama bottoms and begins his assault.
“I like when you’re quiet like this, Hazy. It makes everything so much easier,” he mutters as he caresses my thighs, spreading them apart.
Something pulls at my arm, but I don’t move, too afraid to incur the wrath of his anger issues.
It pulls at me again as my father settles himself between my legs.
“Hazel, wake up.”
I don’t move.
“Hazel, it’s me, Little One.”
He pushes inside of me, the pain excruciating as I tighten my eyelids shut.
“HAZEL!”
A scream erupts from deep inside me as I open my eyes, and it takes a few moments for them to adjust to the light.
“Are you okay, Little One?”
I frown, blinking my eyes a few times.
Why does it sound like Theo’s here?
A hand tightens on my arm, and I freeze, slowly looking up to see him staring in concern at me. He moves his hand to brush my cheek, but I flinch away instinctively. He frowns but respects my boundaries, moving his hand away from my body.
“What happened?” His voice is soft and warm and a stark contrast to his usual rugged bark. I swallow, my throat feeling as rough as sandpaper, before answering.
“I’m okay,” I try to smile but I can tell it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
“What happened?” His voice comes out sterner now, his eyes narrowing.
He’s not going to let this go.
“I… have nightmares sometimes,” I shrug, looking down. I’m too embarrassed by my childish confession to look him in the eyes and see his disapproval.
“How long?” He growls.
“What do you mean?” I pick at my nails as I stay looking away from him.
“How long have you had nightmares?” He growls, getting progressively more annoyed.
“Since I was eleven,” I mutter. He stays silent, simply humming for a few seconds before responding.
“Are they all the same?” His voice is softer now, and I relax the tension in my body slightly.
“Different variations of the same thing,” I mumble, trying to hide my voice breaking. Tears well in my eyes and I close them, hoping none slip through the cracks.
“Look at me, pretty girl,” he whispers sweetly. I shake my head, but he lifts my chin with his finger.
As soon as I open my eyes, the tears spill out and I fall apart. He wipes a few away before climbing into my bed with me. Instinctively, I curl up into his large body, neither of us caring that he’s still wearing his suit. He simply wraps his arms around me, ensuring I feel safe as years of memories haunt me.
When the tears finally start to subside into muffled sobs, he releases me enough to grab my chin.
“Come home with me,” he wipes a stray tear away, looking deeply into my eyes.