Chapter 8

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Hazelnut up above ^_^

Chapter 8

Or so she thought. The nightmare came as it did every night, suddenly. She had been just drifting, unaware of everything and then she was there. Her mind immediately went into panic mood. Her heartbeat speed up and all the old and mended wounds felt as if they were new and untended. She crouched down in the dark corner, shivering as she waited for everything to play out. She heard the boots as they stomped down the creaky corridor. Hazel prayed silently that they would go pass the door. They didn't. The stomping stopped in front of the door. The many locks were undone one at a time with no sense of urgency. The last one, a heavy padlock dropped to the floor with a deafening clank, and then the metal door swung open. Hazel whimpered, pushing her aching body further into the cold wall, not daring to look up into the mad eyes. She just wanted it to end.

The warped image of Jeffery Davis loomed over her, sneering and cussing. He grabbed her with his free hand, pulling Hazel into the only bit of sunlight that came into the room. He turned her to the full length mirror, forcing her to watch as he made use of the branding iron. The heat radiating from it made her flinch and then it connected with her skin, just above the mound of her left breast, burning through her blouse.

Hazel screamed, trying to move away from him, closing her eyes, fighting him with the little strength she had left. It was no use. The ropes that kept her hands tied down at her sides and the rope that tied her legs together held fast. They dug into her skin causing more pain. She went limp, blacking out.

Hazel awoke with a jolt, finding that Van was still sleeping. She was covered in sweat and curled in fetal position well on the other side of the bed. Trembling wildly, she got out of the bed and headed downstairs. Her feet carried her to the kitchen, where she huddled into the corner, with her back to the cupboard. From her spot, she could see both the kitchen entrance and the sliding glass door. She began to rock back and forth, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Her chin rested on her knee but she remained watchful of both entrances, her mind blank.

The sun was beginning to rise outside, illuminating her dark surroundings. Hazel's anxiety and panic decreased as it got brighter. She went to get a change of clothes, showered and faked a smile at her reflection in the mirror.

"It's a beautiful day." She told herself, her smile and eyes not matching her emotions.

Or rather, there were no emotions. Her panic had subsided but that did not change the fact that she felt exhausted and emotionally wrecked. Hazel pinched her usually flushed skin, trying to inject color into it. She always looked worse in the mornings, after she woke up. She always felt worse in the morning. All her scars ached as if they had never been treated, as if she had just actually gone through everything all over again.

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