Forced (1st book in The Forced Series)

Seventeen

Seventeen

Hazel stirred beside Van. He brushed away a stray strand of hair from her face. It was the morning after they returned to New Jersey. Hazel had laid back the same bed rule but refused anything else. In thruth, Van was dying to be with her again, his body crying in need, but he dared not try to make any advances.

The day before, he went to work. All day, he had been congratulated. Not one minute of his day was his mind off Hazel. The fact that he didn't know her didn't deter his body from wanting her.

When he had finally got home, she was locked in her new studio. Hazel told him that she ordered dinner for him but didn't go to bed until much later that night.

Van knew that Hazel wouldn't relent in her tactics to avoid him. So now, he gazed at her, trying to understand why she closed herself off from the world.

Her eyes fluttered open, staring into his own. She looked away quickly.
Without saying as much as good morning, she left the bed, heading into the closet.

"... Um, what are you gonna do... Today?" Van tried, feeling irritation seeping into his voice.

"Paint." was her one word answer.

She reappeared, clutching clothes in her hands.

Hazel felt queasy. She knew she wasn't sick -she did take her pills- but she most certainly wasn't eating right. Mostly half of her meals found there way into the garbage disposal. Of late, her head kept spinning, getting dizzy spells. At such times, Hazel would take another pill. For the most part, that settled her but every day was getting worse.

"Listen Hazel, we need to talk. You can't honestly expect me to cheat on you, when there is absolutely nothing wrong with us being together."

Van watched Hazel's eyes widen then she dropped the clothes in her hands.

This stroked Van's anger,"What is so distasteful in me wanting to have sex with my wife?"

He got out of bed, pacing in front of her, his blue eyes shooting daggers of rage at her.

Hazel tried to swallow, feeling bile build up in the back of her throat. Van's subsequent words swirl in her head, sending a spell of dizziness over her.

Her nails digged into her palm while she tried to control her body, yet, before she could form a reply in her head, her feet -on instinct- dragged her to the en suite bathroom, where her stomach did flip flops until all its contents emptied into the toilet.

"Hazel." Van cried, dropping to his knees beside her.

Her hand clutched at the cold toilet bowl, whilst the other pressed into her stomach.

There had been times in the past that she got really sick, but not as she felt just then.

"Haz-"

"Leave me alone." she rasped, pulling herself up to her feet. With determination she didn't know she possessed, Hazel pushed pass Van, who was glaring at her, his concern long forgotten, and went back into their bedroom. Her goal? Get dressed and go see a doctor.

Van, however, was having no part of it. He was sick -no pun intended- and tired of being nice to Hazel and only getting her glacial expressions and uncalled for hatred. He might have been a bit of a sleazy guy, he probably still was, but he was trying not to be. So far, his attempts had been shot down from all forts.

"Listen to me damn it!" he grabbed hold of Hazel's right hand, spinning her around to face him. Her caramel eyes were clouded and impassive, as if she were trying to block him out of the truth.

"I need to know why. Why do you hate me so much?"

She remained quiet, attempting to glare at him, but the only feelings she could muster were sadness and pain. Pain from her right hand especially when the brooding man tugged her for a response.

"Because I do." she spat, a tear threatening to fall.

With one final tug, Hazel broke away from his grip.

Her palm stinged, feeling worse than perhaps even her ever aching arm.

After getting dressed in a hurry in the guest bathroom, Hazel grabbed her handbag and headed out the door.

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