chapter 3

Hazel stared at the man, paralyzed by fear.

"Can you hear me, bitch? Bring me some water," he demanded.

"How dare you call me that in my own home!" Hazel shouted back, her voice trembling with rage and fear.

"You bloody... How dare you shout at me!" he screamed, his anger making Hazel shiver even more.

"This is my home," Hazel managed to say, her voice barely steady.

"So what? Bring me some water, bitch!" he retorted.

"You... get out," Hazel screamed, her anger boiling over. "I said, get out, you bastard!" She was fuming, her face flushed with fury.

"Bastard? You..." The man lurched towards her and grabbed her neck. "I just asked for a glass of water, and you dare call me a bastard?"

"Leave me," Hazel cried, struggling against his grip. It was hard to fight back against his drunken strength. "Leave me!" She pushed him with all her might, causing him to stumble backward.

"Get out of my home right now, or I will call the police," she warned, her voice firm despite her fear.

"Really? Then tell them this too," he sneered as he grabbed Hazel by the waist. With one hand on the back of her head, he forcefully pressed his lips to hers.

Hazel was stunned by the sudden, aggressive kiss. She could feel his hot breath and the roughness of his lips against hers. Her mind raced, and she struggled to push him off, but his grip was too strong. As they grappled, they both tumbled to the floor, his weight pressing down on her.

He deepened the kiss, biting her lips with a mix of hunger and aggression. Hazel's heart pounded in her chest, her mind a whirlwind of fear and anger. She continued to struggle, trying to free herself from his overpowering embrace, but his hold was unrelenting. The room spun around her as she fought against the assault, desperately trying to break free.

Hazel stood up from the floor, her eyes red and swollen, her lips torn and bruised. She slapped the man hard across the face. "How dare you?" she slap him.

He touched his cheek, stunned. "You just slapped me..." His expression twisted into a malicious grin. "Oh, you need more punishment," he said, reaching out to grab her.

"If you touch me, I will kill you," Hazel warned, grabbing a knife and pointing it at him.

"Really? Then-" he began, but was interrupted.

"Sir!" A middle-aged man burst into the home.

"Hey, Alfred... This bitch-"

"Your father is looking for you, sir. Please come with me," Alfred interrupted, grabbing Christopher's hands and pulling him away.

He glared at Hazel. "Remember my name, Christopher Alexander. We will meet again," he threatened, allowing Alfred to lead him out.

As the door closed behind them, She locked the door, collapsed onto the floor, and cried loudly, her sobs echoing through the empty home.

*************

"Where were you, Christopher?" Alexander glared at his son, his voice stern and unwavering.

Christopher fidgeted, avoiding his father's eyes. "I was...," he began, glancing nervously at Alfred, their loyal butler.

"He was roaming around," Alfred interjected politely, stepping in to shield Christopher from further scrutiny.

Alexander's expression softened slightly. "Olivia and her family will be here in a week."

A rare smile crossed Christopher's face. "Good... I really miss her," he admitted with a wistful pout.

Alexander's demeanor hardened once more. "Just stop this drinking, Christi. You're getting married soon."

Christopher sighed, nodding reluctantly. "I know... Everything according to my dream... my Olivia..." He turned to Alfred, his mood shifting abruptly. "Hey Alfred, take me to my room."

With a sympathetic glance at Alexander, Alfred guided Christopher upstairs. Once in the bedroom, Christopher slumped onto the bed, his earlier bravado gone. "Alfred, get me the details of that girl who slapped me," he mumbled before collapsing onto the pillows.

Alfred sighed, a mix of pity and resignation in his eyes. "Poor girl," he murmured to himself, shaking his head.