XX
Hazel Winters
M y breathing comes in short rasps as I wake from my nightmare. I’m sitting up, clasping at my chest to feel my over-beating heart, trying to ground myself back to reality.
He’s not here.
Flashes of yesterday invade my vision. Dawson and Theo’s insatiable hands on my body. The feeling of pure, unadulterated lust. Seeing the guys with beautiful dates hanging off their arms. The burn of betrayal as I stared at their unrepentant faces.
When my breathing finally calms down, I slide my legs out of bed and walk over to the floor length mirror, which is leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door. It’s wavy in shape and matches the overall airiness of the room.
Removing my clothes, I twist my body around to check different angles of my skin. My ribs twinge but I ignore it, the pain more of a distant reminder of trauma. The bruising is slowly disappearing, fading into my skin like it never happened. Leaning closer, I notice the stitches are starting to dissolve from the gash on my forehead.
Closing my eyes, I test the achiness of my body, feeling out for any random hits of exhaustion or weakness. When none make themselves known, I head into the bathroom and grab a quick shower.
Once I have scrubbed my skin under the hot stream of, what I can only describe as, expensive water, I dress in some of the clothes I’d hastily packed from my apartment. Sporting my black leggings and sports bra like armour, I peek through the curtains to see the weather.
It’s still dark outside, the soft hue of moonlight casting a hauntingly beautiful glow over the reams of grass below. Grabbing my phone, I check the time and head out of my room. My footsteps are almost silent as I creep downstairs, not expecting anyone to be awake at five in the morning.
I keep my old trainers in my hand until I reach the front door, then I lace them up and quietly let myself out. A breath of relief escapes me as the cold, dusk air sweeps over my exposed skin.
After putting my earphones in my ears, I start my slow jog towards the large iron gates of the property. Choosing to scale them rather than try to work out the fancy alarm system, I land on my feet and start to run.
The music flows through each footstep I take as I pass by buildings and grassy areas. They must live in the suburbs of London. The skyscrapers of city life are small details in the distance, barely visible in the slight fog surrounding the barren roads.
I glance at my phone every so often, noticing the time passing by as I run to my heart’s content. Once my legs begin to burn, I turn around and head back the way I came.
Whilst I still can’t decide whether to stay or leave, especially after the attack at the club, the running has helped me to clear my head from the pent-up confusion I had clouding my mind.
Scaling the gate again, I let myself into the house carefully, freezing when I hear voices in the kitchen. Checking my phone again to see it’s half past eight in the morning, I drift towards the voices.
My heart instantly pangs when I see the four women from last night crowded around the kitchen island. They don’t seem to notice me as I walk to the fridge and retrieve a bottle of water, but I keep my earphones in anyway.
When one falls out, I unintentionally hear their gossip, making me wish I had just headed straight upstairs.
"His bed was so comfy, oh my God," the blonde says to the others.
"I know... and did you see Dawson in that suit?" The auburn haired one fans herself dramatically.
I can’t help the look that dawns on my face, drawing their attention to me. Their eyes all narrow at the same time as they scan over my slightly sweaty appearance.
“Are you their roommate or something?” The blonde one asks, disdain dripping from her tone. The others all wait for my response.
“Something like that,” I smile fakely.
They scoff and turn back to face each other, their faces lighting up as they talk about each of the guys. I take my water and quickly dip out of there, putting my earphones in as I head back up to the guest room.
After another shower, a migraine starts to loom. I put some sunglasses on and my comfiest joggers, along with a matching Baby blue hoodie. Styling my hair into two quick braids, I begin to search around the house.
My attention is immediately drawn to a set of double doors, not far from the room I’ve been put in. Tentatively, I twist the knob until one of them opens, revealing the most beautiful library I’ve ever seen.
Whilst the room has incredibly high ceilings, decorated with white, plastered patterns, the walls are completely covered in large bookcases. The books look to be meticulously organised, and I half expect a half-dead librarian to emerge from somewhere to tell me off for being in here.
Though, the thing that stands out to me most is the beautiful book nook, nestled in the bay window at the end of the room. It has a soft velvet cushion on the windowsill, with multiple matching white and grey scatter pillows running along it.
My fingers brush along the heaps of novels in the bookcases until I find one I’ve been wanting to read for ages. Settling myself down in the book nook, I get myself comfortable as I open the classic, first edition.
My eyes become heavy after a few chapters, and not even the streaming light of morning sun coming through the window can keep me awake.
"You ungrateful child, get back here NOW" he screams as I run for my life.
I trip on a stair and fall down, screaming as he grabs me by my foot down the stairs.
"Don't EVER run from me! I will always catch you," he spits down at me and I freeze in fear.
He is towering over me as I lie on the stairs. I can smell the alcohol on his breath and his pupils are dilated.
He's using again.
"P-p-please," I beg as tears fall down my cheeks.
He stands up and looks at me for a second as he takes a sip of his drink.
"Go up to my room. I'll meet you there,” he doesn't look at me and I feel my heartbeat quicken.
No! No! No!
"NOW!" He screams when I don't move and I scramble up to his room, sitting on the edge of his bed and picking my fingernails until they're bleeding.
The house becomes silent, with only my shallow breaths heard. I stay still for what feels like hours.
With every footstep I hear, I flinch.
He's coming.
The door creaks open but I don't look up.
He walks over to me, but I don't look up. He undresses me but I don't look up.
He climbs on top of me, but I don't look up.
I can't look up.
"This is what you get for believing you're anything else other than my little whore," my father says as he pushes himself into me-
"Hazel! Wake up, Angel!"
I feel myself wake up as someone shakes me slightly. My eyes open and they take a few seconds to adjust before I see a very worried Andros kneeling in front of me.
"Wh-what?" I say, my voice doused in sleep.
"Angel, you were screaming in your sleep," he says softly, keeping his eyes trained on me.
"Oh," I say quietly as my cheeks flush. I close my eyes again but the image of my father raping me comes back into my mind. I feel a tear escape my eyes and then a soft hand wiping it away.
"Don't cry, Babygirl. You're too pretty to cry," Andros soothes, making tears fall faster down my face. I keep my head low, trying to hide my weakness.
"Angel, look at me," he whispers, his voice calm yet dominating. I open my eyes and stare at him as he holds my chin. "I don’t know what you’re dreaming about, but you are the most perfect woman I have ever seen and anyone who tells you otherwise deserves to die a very painful death," he says with a serious tone in his voice.
I offer a small smile as I try to stop the hysterical crying from taking over.
But I fail.
A sob escapes my lips, and he pulls me closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around me as well as the blanket. His shirt becomes damp from my tears, but I don't care right now.
He holds me for at least twenty minutes until I calm down.
"Andros," I whisper once my tears have fully disappeared.
"Hmm?"
I hesitate for a second. "Make me forget, Andros," I whisper so quietly I become afraid he didn't hear.
He grabs my chin, making me look at him, "are you sure, Angel? There's no going back."
I nod my head and smile at him.
He looks at me with hunger in his eyes for a few seconds before smashing his lips into mine.
Fuck.
I let him dominate my mouth, expertly kissing the pain away. I feel myself melt into his hold as his tongue asks for access. I let him and he shifts me so that I'm straddling him.
His mouth moves against mine in a way that makes me think he has been starving his whole life until now. I know because I feel the same.
Subconsciously, I find myself grinding against him, feeling his hard erection through his suit and my pyjama shorts. I become soaked at the feeling of him pressed so close to me.
I hesitate slightly and freeze, unsure if he wants this.
He pulls away from my lips and grabs my hips, forcing me to grind against him again. "Don't you dare stop," he grumbles, and I feel my core tighten.
His hands move to my tits, and he grabs them, squeezing them roughly. I let out a moan against his lips and he takes the opportunity to kiss my neck. I know he will leave marks, and the others will see but for now, I don't care.
I feel like I'm in heaven.
I moan again as he sucks on a certain spot on my neck, sending tingles down to my lower stomach. His bulge twitches under me, turning me on even more.
"Fuck," I sigh, and he slaps my ass hard before massaging away the pain.
"Andros," I beg.
He pulls himself away from my neck and rests his forehead against mine, both our breaths heavy.
"As much as I want to, Angel, and believe me I do, the others will murder me if I do before we all talk," he whispers to me before planting a quick, passionate kiss on my lips and sliding me off his lap.
I laugh as he tries to secretly adjust his crotch. He glares down at me playfully before winking.
"I have to go to work, Angel. Call me if you need anything," he says and walks out the room.
I fall back to the cushions on the seat, panting hard.
Fuck.
I was not expecting that.