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.
And then there was the panic attack. The fear in Mr. Wright's gaze was so quick to flood his face that I could practically hear his rapidly beating pulse. But there was also something else. It was recognition like he was seeing something else rather than me. When Mr. Wright picked up his fist, something told me I was right.
It must have been reassurance that I felt because somehow I knew he wouldn't hurt me.
My lack of an answer was deemed satisfying enough for Chase because he said, laughing darkly, "I'll see you when you get home, Hazel."
With a glare in my direction, Chase sauntered off, but it wasn't without knocking into Mr. Wright's shoulder.
For a moment, I thought maybe he was going to retaliate, with his green eyes that flashed menacingly, his jaw clenched, but Mr. Wright held his ground.
He looked a mess. Nothing like Chase, but the split lip and bruised eye looked nonetheless painful.
With a look cast in my direction, I held back the urge to flinch when the office door slammed shut behind his retreating form.
I didn't know why, but I felt the need to follow after Mr. Wright.
It felt much quieter when I slipped inside his office. Without all of the wandering eyes, I felt like I could breathe. But when I met Mr. Wright's surprised yet hard stare, the feeling fled at the realization that I had just walked in without knocking.
He opened his mouth to say something, eyes narrowing, but I was quicker.
"Are you okay?"
Mr. Wright didn't say anything for a moment, as if he was trying to come up with something to say. By the way he was biting his lip, eyes so green and intense, I wondered if Mr. Wright was trying not to snap at me.
"I'm fine." His breathy voice finally responded. Maybe he was just trying to convince himself.
I let my eyes search Mr. Wright's face, over the bruises, his split lip, and then back to his eyes. They were clouded over with something I couldn't read; dark and uncertain, like that of a forest.
"D-do you need anything? Your face..."
Mr. Wright brought up a hand to touch the side of his face, jumping slightly when his fingers brushed over the bruise already forming underneath his eye.
Too quick, though, Mr. Wright's gaze hardened when he looked up at me, even quicker to compose himself.
"Go home, Hazel." Mr. Wright finally said.
"Mr. Wright...?" My voice trailed questioningly. I couldn't take my eyes away—I needed to do something.
"Let me get you an ice pack. At least." I added.
The hard expression on Mr. Wright's face seemed to soften as his green eyes searched my face. Intense and unwavering, but I wouldn't be the one to look away first.
When he nodded, I backed away and hurried from Mr. Wright's office.
I knew there was a kitchen somewhere in this building—I've seen it in passing but had never thought to look twice.
A few coworkers I recognized stared as I passed them, and it took everything in me not to glance behind me and wonder the worst. It wouldn't be too hard to guess what they were thinking.
When I pulled one girl aside, she stared at me with a wide, doe-eyed expression. Hesitant, her voice quick and nearly inaudible, she directed me toward the second floor.
A sign for the 'employee lounge' came into view and I sighed with relief when no one was inside. I couldn't imagine anyone coming in here, a leisurely lunch break seeming far too relaxed for a rude workaholic and his employees.
Quickly, I made a makeshift ice pack out of a bag and some ice and made my way back to Mr. Wright's office.
He looked up when I came through the doorway, the pen he was using to scribble notes with dropping on the desk with a quiet sound, but it made me jump.
Although, I was certain it had something to do with his piercing gaze.
"There were no regular ice packs, so I made you one, instead."
Mr. Wright didn't look away from me, his lips pursed and eyes narrowed—they were hard, yet there was also something close to wariness lingering close behind.
"I hope that's okay—if not, I can go and—"
Why was I suddenly so nervous?
"No," Mr. Wright responded, cutting off my words with his lips tilting slightly. "This is good."
The cold from the pack had numbed my fingers. Even with the paper towels wrapped around it, I still found myself rubbing the warmth back in. Mr. Wright noticed and could feel his eyes even as I backed away from his desk.
"I'm sorry about Chase," I said, breaking the silence that had fallen between us. "I didn't know he would show up like that."
Something flashed in Mr. Wright's green eyes, the anger, and a cold expression back on his face.
"Chase is a bitch."
The mumbled words startled me but still found myself nodding my head.
"Makes me even more glad I'm not at the coffee shop anymore."
The thought of going back there made me shudder. Even though it's only been a matter of weeks, I couldn't deny the relief I felt in Chase's absence.
I turned to step away, nodding a goodbye when I glanced back.
"Hazel?"
About to shut the office door, I looked up just in time to find Mr. Wright watching me, a thoughtful look on his face that made me wonder what he was going to say.
I didn't bother to hide the surprise I felt as I awaited his words.
Finally, after a beat of silence, "why does Chase know where you live?"
"He lives on the same hall as me," I answered. "Just a couple doors down."
Mr. Wright frowned, and he opened his mouth to say something, but the nervous butterflies inside my stomach beat him to it. Why did I feel the need to justify myself?
"I wish I would have known that he was like this the first time we met; he was so nice to me, and was the one who suggested I get a job at 'the Daily Grind' in the first place. I'm so stupid. I am, right? All I do is make stupid decisions."
Mr. Wright was staring at me, I realized, and I lowered my eyes to the ground as embarrassment and heat flooded through my chest, like a hand clutching at my chest.
"I-I should go." I stuttered out, turning away to flee from Mr. Wright's office before I could make an even bigger fool of myself.
Tears danced in my eyes, ones that stung even as I slammed the door shut to my car.
I didn't even move from my seat when I pulled up to my apartment building, and for a moment I just stared. I didn't want to go back inside. No, I was afraid to.
Instead, I called Jules. It didn't matter that she might still be angry at me, I just needed someone to talk to. She answered me on the third ring.
"Hazel?"
Shuffling and voices could be heard on the other end of the phone; the faint sound of shouting. Where was she?
"Hi," I said, the confusion ringing in my voice. "I was just wondering if you were busy, but it sounds like you are so...I'm gonna go."
Just as I was about to cut the line, Jules's voice came through.
"No, wait—let me go somewhere quiet."
There were more voices in the background, incoherent words I couldn't make out.
"Julia, wait a second. Who's on the other line?" I heard clearly. Closer this time. There was more shuffling, followed by the sound of the phone being dropped.
"Who is this?" A masculine voice asked. He didn't sound very friendly.
I went quiet, my heart skipping in my chest as I wondered who the voice belonged to. Who was Jules with? Where was she? For a reason I couldn't name, the voice sounded oddly familiar, but I couldn't put a face to the alto pitch. I knew a lot of people with the same sounding voice, yet I was still left wondering.
Quickly, I hung up the phone before the person could speak again, breathing out a relieved sigh as the silence took over.
With that feeling sifting in the pit of my stomach, I was more than thankful to welcome my empty apartment. Just the same as I had left it.