Shattered

Hazel (e)

Hazel
18.
"Why? Because you're too afraid to admit that you're everything like him?"

My shoulders shook, but I couldn't take my eyes away. I was frozen in place and unable to step away as I watched as Chase leaned over and spat blood onto the carpeted floor with a grunt.

Mr. Wright didn't say anything, his face void of any of the emotion that I had just witnessed merely seconds before. Uncaring. His eyes were locked on Chase but met my stare quickly with a hard glare.

Everything like him. Those words sounded like a curse, and it made me shudder at the thought of a carbon copy of Mr. Wright.

For some reason, I tried to imagine what his father might've looked like. I guessed maybe the same dirty blond hair, the same striking features—a sharp jawline and cheekbones to match. But then again, I found myself circling back to the only two similarities that seemed to make the most sense: a cold, cold personality and matching words.

"Get up." Mr. Wright said to Chase, his voice gravelly as if daring Chase not to listen. I watched as he took a leisure step toward the crumpled figure that was Chase. He struggled to push himself to his elbows, the slightest wince to cross his face, but he quickly covered it with a smile and held out his hand.

"Come help me up then, why don't you?" There was a flash of something in Chase's gaze that I couldn't read. "Least you could do is help me."

When Mr. Wright didn't move, Chase's grin only widened but grimaced in pain when his eyes turned on me. This time, he didn't hide it.

Startled, I hurried to help Chase up to his feet. It was in that same moment that I realized the onlookers watching with horror-stricken faces. I could hear the voices.

Chase took hold of my arm rather suddenly and gasped in pain when his strong grip pulled my ear to his lips.

My eyes met Mr. Wright's face, nearly pleading with him to do something. Chase's hold on me tightened when he tried to take a step toward me. I winced.

"Do you see what I mean, Hazel? Come back to the coffee shop with me and I'll make sure you never see Wright again." Chase's low voice sent a cold shiver down my spine.

"No," I found myself shaking my head. "I'm not going back."

Chase backed away from me, his dark, stormy eyes narrowing as he searched my face. He then glanced at Mr. Wright with a laugh bubbling past his lips.

"You're kidding me," Chase's laughter grew. "He hit you, yet you want to stay?"

"Mr. Wright didn't—" I began to say, but Chase cut me off.

"And now he's making you lie?"

His eyes gleamed with an expression I couldn't read, and if I didn't know any better, I would say he was enjoying himself.

"Hazel, you're even more pathetic than I thought you were if you're believing anything this man says. Is he paying you to do that too?"

I suddenly imagined those men from the night my apartment was raided—the coldness in their faces, their laughter just the same with every intent to inflict harm if anything got in their way. I also imagined Mr. Wright's own face, although expressionless and void of anything kind, I knew there was something vastly different from those men when he came to my rescue.