Julius Santo was a name that had every human's skin crawling. Most people know of him due to the lethal Mafia he leads, his silver eyes that have watched countless souls fade away, or the sinister scar that crosses his brow.
But for Hazel Alexis, Ju...
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ᴛʜɪʀᴅᴘᴏᴠ
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.
