ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘᴏᴠ

𝘈 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘋𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦

♛♛♛

Thrusting her body forward, she trips over her own feet as she tried to gather up the trouble in front of her.

A smashed bottle of booze stood at the bottom of her mother's bare feet. Liquor had pooled around the floorboards, and glass was in small shells around the same flooring, as well as on top of the bare flesh.

"Don't move," Hazel said as she dashed to the kitchen to get a dustpan and some wet cloths.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" Her woman yelled angrily, attempting to wrap herself around the wreckage that was around her.

Hazel ignored her comment and came back with the dustpan and a broom. Tossing her red hair to one side, she began sweeping up the glass that surrounded her unstable mother.

"Please don't move. It's only making it harder." Hazel said hopelessly, her voice weak with exhaustion. Her mother scoffed but listened to her demands.

"This is your fault, Hazel." She folded her arms across her chest while Hazel got down on her knees and began quickly wiping the floor with a wet rag.

"It's not," Hazel mumbled, refusing to absorb any bull-crap that fell from her birth givers mouth.

"What was that?" Her mother quipped in a distasteful tone. Without realising, Hazel also had the audience of her father—simply watching the whole exchange from afar.

She was confused as to why they were both so drunk already. Usually, they would just be starting now. Not being completely wasted by 6 pm.

"It's not my fault." Hazel stood up, her height matching her mothers. The dustpan full of shards and excessive liquor was in the hands of the girl, a determined yet confident look on the girl's expression.

That went straight out the window as soon as the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed throughout the small room.

The dustpan fell from her grip from pure shock, and the same hand raced to her reddened cheek.

The intoxicated mother's eyes flickered with regret, but it vanished as quickly as it arrived. "Don't ever speak to me like that Hazel! I'm not some random person you met on the street; I'm your mother."

A spike of hurt and rage flew from the girl's veins, never in a million years has she felt like this before.

Although her confidence was quite literally slapped out of her—so she stayed quiet and picked up the shards of glass all over again.

Her cheek was flaming hot, a visible handprint almost imprinted onto her pale skin. Hazel held in her tears like she always did.

After tossing away the rag and the shards of glass, she walked right past her mumbling and stumbling mother—also ignoring her fathers quiet and emotionless gaze.

Every frickin' day.

Hazel's body and mind were both drained. She shut the door to her room and double-checked that it was secured. She went straight to her bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the light.

She broke down into a flood of darkness almost instantaneously as she saw her face.

Her body shook with a sob, and hot tears streamed down her cheeks like summer rain. Her mother's fingertips stamped red spots on her cheek, and the small girl almost hissed at the sting it left on her skin.

"Oh gosh," She mumbled, her bottom lip quivering as she struggled to hold in the next upcoming sob. Her fingertips softly stroked the base of the seen slap in the middle of her cheek.

Hazel reached under the sink and pulled out a clean towel, dampening it with cold water before pushing it against her cheek.

Her legs went out, forcing her to sit on top of the toilet seat, which she pushed down. A sigh left her lips as she took in the sting yet the sudden relief her cheek now felt—along with the immense sensory of her body resting.

Hazel reflected on her good day with her new friend. Julius was different, which was one of the reasons Hazel appreciated him and was glad to have someone like him as a friend.

No, he didn't talk much. And he never ever showed emotion. He was mysterious and almost dangerous. Though, other than seeing harsh bruises and cuts on him—never he's shown any reason to assume he was dangerous.

Either way, Hazel didn't care. He was kind to her, and that was all that mattered.

Hazel was different too, and that was why she would never judge Julius for anything.

Unfortunately, this day ended up being ruined for Hazel—instead, it had traumatised her to the very core.

Only once has her mother laid a hand on her. Never once had Hazel ever thought she would again.

But it was done now, and the two both knew that it couldn't ever be fixed.

♛♛♛

Waking up the next morning was almost as dreadful as getting your period for the first time.

It was as if poor Hazel had been hit by a bus.

Hazel didn't feel bright or cheerful today. No, she felt rather dead inside and out.

Getting ready for school felt more like being dragged across a floorboard. Her cheek was slightly swollen, but nothing major.

Once Hazel was ready, she took her keys and left the house as soon as possible. For once, Hazel might be early.

Her parents were out of the house before she was even beginning to wake. By the time she knew it, she had arrived up at school.

The parking was easier today, due to being a good 20 minutes early before anybody's classes started. Once parked, she took her tote bag and made her way up the staircase.

She was thinking about her current professor as she walked into the large building. Professor Diablo hadn't been seen in the last two days, Hazel hadn't confronted him yet, and she hadn't even glanced at the new paper he had assigned her to.

Why should she? The criteria indicated that her essay was in all forms correct.

Surprisingly, a different professor has taken over the class to cover for their previous professor's absence.

Hazel seemed to have walked herself to the cafeteria, somewhat craving a chamomile tea. It was the least she could do for herself.

She stood in the short line, her small frame behind a larger one. She looked up at the male, her head tilting in confusion as she seemed to recognise the boy.

"Percy?" She called and the tall boy turned with a scowl. Immediately looking down, his jaw unclenched as he made eye contact with the young woman.

"Hazel," He replied, his hands shoved inside his pockets. Hazel beamed up at the boy, considering him a somewhat mutual friend in her life. "How are you doing?"

They both moved up the line, Percy now the next person to order after the one in front. "Fucking shit. You?" Hazel tried not to flinch at the hostile response, instead, she frowned with concern.

"Are you okay?"

Percy rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling as if it were the one to do him all the bad in his life. "You've got classes today?" He motioned towards the bag slung upon her shoulder—instantly changing the subject.

Hazel didn't pry, so she did as he silently wished. "Yeah, I've got classes all day. How about you?" Hazel gleamed and glanced towards the lady behind the counter who was eyeing the both of them.

"Go order and then tell me," Hazel nodded towards the lady and he nodded, strutting over as if he owned the place. He mumbled a few words to the older woman and Hazel couldn't hear a thing.

Hazel curiously watched as he took out a stash of cash having her eyes widen along with the lady behind the counter. He passed her a simple ten and stepped away with the receipt number.

Blinking once, she shook off her shock and walked forward—taking three steps to the counter. "What can I do for you, love?" The lady asked in a bored tone.

Sighing, Hazel looked up at the menu and read out what she wanted. "Just a regular Chamomile Tea, please." She smiled.

"$5:50."

Hazel quickly gave her the money, scrambling whatever she had left into the hands of the older lady.

With a contorted scowl, the lady took the money and thrust the receipt into her small hands.

"Next!"

Shuffling over, Hazel released another sigh as she shoved her half-opened wallet into her tote bag. "I've only got two today," Percy replied to the girl's previous question.

With a curt nod, Hazel slightly turned her body in front of him, just to get a better view.

Percy has dark eye bags under his eyes, somehow he still looked handsome with them. His jet black hair was ruffled up on top of his head and his green eyes were almost lifeless looking.

He wore baggy jeans and a baggy old sweatshirt that seemed to be worn way too many times considering the small rip under his left arm.

"It's not nice to stare, Hazel." Jumping up in surprise, she turned red and looked away almost instantly. "Sorry, Percy." She mumbled and shifted on her feet.

Percy looked at her blankly, as if she were the most boring person in the world. A hand was thrown into his hair as he sighed rather roughly.

"What's wrong with your cheek?" He asked bluntly, dropping his hand into his pocket. Instinctively her hand went towards it and she dropped her eyes down to the floor.

"Nothing. I'm just clumsy," She gave a small shrug and returned her glance to the waiting counter in front of them.

Percy shot her a look, one that she didn't see but could feel. Though, the boy hadn't pressed on it.

Neither one of them spoke again. Percy was just not bothered to communicate and Hazel was now on caution as to what comes out of her mouth next.

Soon after Percy's number was called, Hazel's was called only five seconds after. Taking the heated cup, she made sure to place the cardboard grip around it so she wouldn't burn her fingers.

Subconsciously, she walked away by the side of Percy.

"Do you have a job? Or do anything outside of college?" Hazel quipped her lips to the tips of the cup, delicately taking a sip of the heated drink.

One of Hazel's many talents was being able to absorb extremely hot foods or liquors. It was like her mouth was numb to the heat—however, she did prefer everything hot.

"Yeah, I got a job." He replied hastily. Percy picked at the flakes of his melted ham and cheese croissant—shedding the little pieces into the plain brown bag.

"Oh yeah? What do you do?"

Percy chuckled. It wasn't a very amused one, rather a more dry and sarcastic type of laugh—if you'd call it that. "Nothing special,"

Hazel frowned at his subtle reply. "Well...I'm sure it's good," She said a little unsure now. It was odd that he didn't mention what his job was, though she didn't want to press onto it, in case it was a touchy subject for him.

"Mhm," He mumbled, taking a deep bite into the delicious looking croissant. Upon seeing that, Hazel then regretted not buying anything to eat, though looking at the time—she definitely wouldn't have any time going back to grab something.

The two continued walking, silence between the two friends. Reaching her class, Hazel stopped which also had Percy stopping too.

Looking up, she gave him a half-smile and adjusted the strap on her shoulder. "I'll see you later? Do you want to sit together at lunch again?" Hazel asked him with hope.

Percy glanced at her and then glanced at something behind her, an unknown feeling dwelling in the pits of his gut.

"I won't be here. I'm finishing up around lunch," Disappointment filled that hope. Guess she was eating lunch by herself again.

"Tomorrow, we can." Percy rather abruptly blurted. She looked up at him, a new form of a smile gracing her lips. "Okay." She nodded, gleefully.

Percy nodded once more before turning on his feet and moving further down the hall.

With a sigh and a smile, Hazel entered her class.

♛♛♛

He was back.

The young professor stood before the girl, pacing back and forth as his mouth thundered with nonsense.

To say Hazel was surprised was an understatement. She hadn't expected him to be back so soon.

Although, what surprised Hazel the most was his most disturbing appearance.

Professor Diablo's face is covered in purple—nearly black bruising. His eye was swollen purple and black, it was shut closed due to the intense hit. The other eye was fine, though he had cuts all over his face which were only now healing.

To say she was shocked, along with the other students was identifiable.

How does that even happen? How did he get those bruises and cuts?

It looked like he had gotten run over by a car.

Not to mention, the 25-year-old also looked incredibly rugged. He had a light scruff around his jaw and further down his jaw. If you looked hard enough you could see the dark bags that laid beneath his dark eyes, and the dishevelled mess of hair on the top of his head.

Hazel couldn't stop staring at him—and not in a good way.

Nevertheless, apart from his almost deathly appearance, she made it her prior mission to ask him about the essay. Assuming he forgot about it, she wanted to make sure he remembered.

The class was nearly over, which was good on her behalf. She had jotted down the necessary notes—at least as much as she could without being distracted by his battered face.

It was noticeable that most of the students in the class felt the same.

Hazel mentally prepared for the speech she was about to deliver to him. Making a mental note of everything he'd done wrong to her.

Making her feel bad about failing a well-written essay and forcing her to rewrite it when it wasn't necessary. Falsely reporting her paper's grade. And adding that he should not treat her differently than his other classmates.

And so, as everyone packed away their papers, pens, books and laptops, she did the same but instead sat glued to her seat as she watched the students vanish out of the class.

Up until the very last person was walking down the staircase, she got up and walked down too.

Professor Diablo was hunched over his desk, his back to her and his head bowed as he frantically scanned something on his phone.

The door slammed shut, leaving Hazel alone in the room with a man far amongst the forms of evil.

And the naive girl had no idea what she had gotten herself into.

"Professor," Hazel called out confidently. A bounce of anticipation in her step as she gripped tightly onto her bag straps.

The darkest shadow fell upon the man, the eye that showed colour turned into a scheme of black. He looked up, he dropped the phone into his slacks and turned his head over his shoulder slowly.

"Hazel,"

The way he said her name had her skin crawling with goosebumps. The kind of goosebumps you get when you see or hear something that makes you shudder to your core.

Hazel had lost her confidence all of a sudden. Instead, she felt compelled to flee and get out of there as quickly as possible.

Gulping, Hazel remained rooted to her spot as she saw the man turn around and throw her a glance that sent shivers up her spine.

"I was wondering when you'd get back to me," He chuckled with dry amusement. A spontaneous look flickered through his gaze as his eyes filtered up and down the girl—seeping in every inch of her covered body.

"You had no right lying to me." Her hazel eyes blazed with conviction and purpose as she stood her ground. His gaze was drawn back to hers, and he smiled, almost amused.

"My papers were complete and accurate. You claimed they weren't when they were. I should report you."

Hazel was now mad. Well, as mad as she could be for her little announces of temper.

Suddenly, his smug smile dropped and his face turned into one of nothing. Emotionless he became and that scared her more than any threatening look he contained.

He took a step forward, then he took another. Two direct steps and if he took another two, he would be toe to toe with the young girl.

She tilted her head up at him, lips placed into a thin line and an etched frown on the edges of her brows. Now she felt intimidated. And there was no way in hell her jello legs could move now.

Up close the damage to his face looked worse. It looked almost as if it were infected or pulsating. And with Hazel's fair knowledge of first aid, she knew for a fact he hadn't treated his wounds properly.

Those thoughts vanished as the teacher made the most startling and leg-shaking move of all time.

He took a step forward and grabbed the girl's jumper by the collar. She cried out a yelp as he pulled her forward with the top section of her sweatshirt bunched in his fingers, and her heart sank to her feet.

Tightly, he placed his hand on the back of one of her bottom cheeks and squeezed with so much pressure that she thought she'd be permanently bruised.

Hazel let out a small cry as her hands instantly wrapped around his wrist that held her body up against his.

"Let me go!" She shrieked, her face scrunched up with pain. The man remained emotionless, inhaling the aroma of her vanilla skin with his nostrils—and she then only felt the prickling bone punching her stomach.

She noticed the bulge of his aroused erection beneath the man's jeans when she looked down.

"Please, let me go," She cried once more, this time attempting to wiggle her body free from his grasp. He chuckled, the man's eyes dead and his face expression unknown.

"You see this," He gripped her small hand and tightly pointed her finger in the direction of his eye. "This was because of you, Hazel."

"And if you say another fucking thing to that man, I'm going to make your life much worse than it is now." He cackled and whispered forcefully into her ears, his tongue running over his bottom teeth.

He tilted her head, gripping her chin, so he could dreadfully angle his lips to her lobe.

"Didn't I ask you to call me sir, Hazel?"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she envisioned what was about to happen to her. She couldn't believe just how evil he was, and yet she had no clue what he was talking about.

"Yes," She obeyed, her eyes carrying her weak and trembling frame.

He inhaled deeply, his nose pushing into the side of her neck as his fingers sank into her pants. "Good. Now, what's my name?"

A sob fell through her lips, her body squirming to get out of his hold but it had only made his grip on her tighten to the max and she felt as if she were going to pass out.

She refused to call him anything at this moment, all her mind was focused on was the hand squeezing her bottom.

It hurt. Incredibly.

"Just let go of me," She begged. She pleaded with him to let go of both of her hands, which were caught in his effleurage. As she continued to disobey, the man's hot breath was on the tip of her neck, and wrath was wracking his brain.

"Say it, Hazel." Calmly, he said. A little too calmly.