T W O
Hazel Bronstan stared listlessly out her bedroom window. She was in the highest room of the house, located on the fourth floor. Her father tried to put her in a room with no windows but after hearing her complain every time she saw him, he finally gave her a room that had them.
It wasn’t often that she fought her father. He had always been a strict man, more so after the loss of her mother. He didn’t tolerate disobedience and enforced his rules harshly. She learned quickly at a young age to listen to him.
She sighed heavily. Her birthday had passed not to long ago and had been given tons of gifts from her father. Most of which still sat in the corner of her room, untouched.
She didn’t know how he had gained so much money over the years but she knew it wasn’t anything ethical. She didn’t feel comfortable with all the objects he showered her with.
Her eyes followed a black bird as it flew across the pale blue sky, a stark contrast between the two. There was still a small amount of snow on the bare trees outside. The past few days she had watched as it melted and dropped off the branches.
Grabbing a brush from her dresser, she began to brush her long, brown hair for the fifth time that day. Her hair reached the top of her butt and had a light wave to it. Her eyes were a dark blue-green with speckles of yellow in the center. Sometimes she was told they looked silver.
Around 5:30, she was called down to have dinner. She didn’t hesitate, her father hated to be kept waiting. She walked down to the dinning room, the large oak table empty except for her father who sat at one end.
“Good evening, father.”
“Hazel, my dear.” He stood up to kissed her cheek. “On time as usual.”
“Of course, father.” She took her seat at the opposite end of the table.
She hated how long the table was, it was awkward sitting so far away from the only other person at the table. The servant stepped out of the kitchen shortly after her sitting down, carrying out two steaming plates of food.
As most nights, they were having steak with mashed potatoes and a buttered biscuit. It was what her father liked to eat, personally she’d rather have something else. However, she never complained and he never made her finish the whole plate. It was a silent compromise they had with each other.
She ate slowly, knowing she couldn’t leave the table unless her father was finished. She sat there for another twenty minutes, her father eating his last bite and called for the servant to remove the plates. Finally able to leave, she said good night to her father and left the dinning room.
Hazel went back up to her room, she wanted to go to bed. She wasn’t tired but was hoping she could escape to her dreams for a little while. Changing into pink striped Victoria Secret shorts and button up top, she admired the soft silk and the way it felt on her skin.
She walked into her bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face for the night. She brushed her hair one last time then turned out the light and left the bathroom.
Crawling into bed, she sunk into the middle. Pillows and a fluffy white blanket surrounded her. She cuddled a small teddy bear that she always kept in her bed. It was one of the few things she had left from her mother.
It took a while for her to fall sleep, every night was always a struggle. She closed her eyes, imagining what life would be like if her mother was still alive. It helped her relax.
Around one o’clock, she woke up and stretched across her bed. She yawned as she tossed the covers off her and swung her feet off the bed. Her mouth was parched, she needed water. Goose bumps pricked her skin, the cool air wrapping around her petite body.
Shuffling her bare feet, she made it over to the bathroom and switched the lights on. Her eyes squinted shut, her vision trying to adjust and focus. She blindly reached out for her glass cup and filled it with water from the sink.
As her hand reached out to turn the water off, a rough hand came over her mouth and pulled her away from the sink. She dropped the cup, the glass shattering in the sink. She felt the razor sharp edge of a blade press against her throat.
Her mind screamed, her heart raced and her body froze where she stood. Her throat constricted, panic bubbling up inside her. She looked into the mirror to see a tall man standing behind her.
His jet black hair was shaggy and sticking up at different angles. His chin was covered with a short goatee and his bright green eyes looked like pools of poison. As he leaned toward her, she felt his hot breathe on her ear.
“Don’t move. Don’t make a sound.” His voice low and deep.
Hazel whimpered as the man removed his hand from her mouth. He pocketed the knife and pulled her arms behind her back. She could feel him tying them together, a coarse material rubbing against her wrists and pulled tight.
His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her to his body, making eye contact with her through the mirror. The lines of his face hard, his features sinister.
She quickly averted her eyes. His hand caressed her shoulder, his fingers rubbing over her collar bone, then drifting to her neck. His pressure gradually increasing until her last breathe of air was squeezed out of her lungs.
She clawed at his strong hand to no avail. Her fingers desperately trying to hook around his hand and pull it free. Her vision began to blur and turn a fuzzy black around the edges.
Hazel’s panic spiked again, this man is going to rob and kill her. Her eyes filled with tears that rapidly left her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She took one last look at the man in the mirror, then succumbed to the darkness taking over her.