Splintered

Chapter Fifty-Eight: Wash Away the Bitter Taste of My Fury

A perplexed avox holding a mop recoiled as Hazel wrenched open the glass sliding doors, hurtling through them without a word of warning.

Leo surged forward as if to follow, but Snow's voice flowed softly from behind.

"Let her go."

Pushing herself out onto the bluff, she had no idea where she was going. All she knew was that she was going.

A fresh wave of brine coated her face as the sea roared and cackled at her distress.

Let it laugh. Let them gawk.

Caring about any of it was currently out of the question.

Scouring her surroundings, she spotted a sandy trail that descended from the overhang to the beach. Flinging herself down it, she could've sworn footsteps followed.

Dress shoes, undoubtedly.

Pumping her arms and lifting her knees, she ran as fast as her body and the stupid sundress would allow. She ran, as if she could escape the truth. As if she could move fast enough, it would all be left behind. As if she could run back in time, change the unchangeable, or unknow the truth.

Her bad ankle wobbled and groaned as a beachy forest swallowed her. Salt and earth burned through her lungs, but she welcomed the physical discomfort over her escalating panic.

Eventually, the ground softened until it was more sand than dirt. Her legs burned as her footing became unstable.

For a moment, she stopped, ripping off her fancy shoes and thin socks. Chucking them into a nearby pile of sand, she let her bare feet sink into the earth's silk.

With another deep breath, she began to sprint again. The thrashing waves called to her as she crested a dune.

Eventually, the sea's edges hardened the ground around her feet. She slowed to a walk, letting the bitter temperatures capture her attention. Greeting the waves, she moved in until they licked along her calves.

Yet the invigorating waters couldn't calm the boiling overwhelm or the way mind relentlessly replayed Silus's hands cinching around Ruby's throat. Hazel's fingers slid over her own as a dry heave tore through her.

The faces of the Harts came next. Briallen first, then Clive, and finally bright-eyed Amethyst. A family devastated by the Games, but also District Seven. Clive was lost to the mines because of her, and Ruby to the arena at the hands of her brother.

Another shudder ripped through her as Ethan's voice played on the wind.

"Promise me you'll get her out of here and keep her safe."

Ethan had saved their lives, more than once; he'd sacrificed himself, and how had District Seven repaid him?

She imagined Harla burying her husband beside her two children and unborn grandchild, left all alone with her collection of tragedy and tombstones.

Hazel's entire body felt tight, stretched to the point of breaking like the chains on a lumber truck, restraining an overfull load. But her chains were crumbling. Unable to hold back anymore, she doubled over, vomiting into the sea.

Her limbs convulsed as her stomach lurched until there was nothing left. Cupping handfuls of ocean water, she gargled it, letting the acrid salt burn her now raw palate.

Spitting out the rinse, she was suddenly relieved she would likely never see Twelve again. There was no way she would be able to look any of them in the eye. Not knowing what she knew.

Staggering back a few paces, she let herself sink to her knees, water chewing at her thighs beneath the summer dress. A chilled breeze teased out fine hairs of her braid and dried down the tears coating her skin.