Chasing Hazel

1. Nothing but guilt

I wake to sunshine, filtering in through the gaps between my blinds - it's not often that I wake after the sunrise, but today is my birthday after all.

Most people wake up on their birthday looking forward to the chocolate cake of their dreams or a game of "guess the present", but not me. I suppose I'm not 'most people', that's all. Instead, today is the day I secure my underground fighting championship.

Wearing a black sports bra and leggings with an orange bomber jacket on top, I grab my bag and head off to the local gym.

"Hey Flynn," I smile at one of the trainers, "show me to the equipment room, will you?"

He gives me a gentle punch on the shoulder, his brown eyes smiling back at me. I can understand why girls fall at his feet, not to mention his well-built physique. Chuckling, he hauls my sports bag over his shoulder, "well, let's go then. Reckon you'll come out with a win today, Hazel?"

I grin back at him. "What do you think, duffer?" I ask, giving him a slight knock on the head. "Sure, I used to lose but that was years ago."

"I know, I know," he jokes as he holds open the hidden door at the back of the equipment room. "Enjoy the underground!" he says, waving me off and giving me back my bag.

Stepping through a second set of doors, I shuffle into the elevator, ready for a championship victory.

--

Checking that my prize money is tucked into my bag, I head out of the women's change room and walk towards the administration desk to record my winnings. Just as I turn the corner, a hand shoots out and pulls me back, into a small room along the corridor.

"Jake?" I ask in surprise, "it's been a while."

"Yeah, I know -" he smiles sheepishly, "but I've got a lead."

I feel a small pang of dread inside, from a hidden and broken stone known as my heart.

"Yes?"

"They're holding a gang gala next week and it's the best opportunity you have to infiltrate forces." He tilts his head so that a few brown locks fall to his eyes. "Hazel, I really think it's time."

I nod, "and so do I."

For a moment, I let myself reminisce my childhood, sitting in my father's lap as he read stories to my brother and I. Chase and I used to share a room and continually argued about who  got to sleep on the top bunk. But as the older one, he said it was "safer" for him to climb the ladder each night, and not me.

I would give anything to see him again, but I don't even know if he is alive. The last time I saw him, my father had just been shot by one of our own guards and several other guards had dragged Chase away. As for me? I spent five years in unimaginable pain from my captors before eventually making an escape. 

I feel nothing but guilt knowing that Chase could still be a prisoner.