Unravelling My Past

6. Hey...

"Hey."

He turns to my direction, his eyes glowering in the dark alley. He let out a huff, smoke coming out and right into my face. I began coughing a fit, but I stopped in a few minutes.

"What do you want?" He spits out.

Jeez. He never acted like this before.

"Are you bipolar because this isn't the Adam I know." I state.

"Well that's probably because you never got to know who I was, and maybe you never will." He bluntly replies.

"Well, sorry for not telling you, but for an adult, you sure do act... childish. I don't need to tell you about my personal life when I've literally only known you for a week."

"So what? Do my actions to try to make you feel welcome even amount to anything to you? I do my best to keep this part of me inside and be nice to everyone. You don't know how it is..." he replies quietly, but I'm still able to hear it.

"Look, I'm grateful for your efforts, and I know it was my fault for not telling you guys, but I have my reasons." I stand firm.

"Like what? That you're greedy and need money? Our cafe can only handle so many people. We may have many customers but you've never seen our menu. Our most expensive item is only $7.50."

"I don't know what that has to do with me or my situation, which you don't know about." I say, looking down at the alley ground, the dampness getting into my nose.

"Whatever, just don't come here if you aren't going to work here for a long time," He dismisses me with a petty wave of the hand.

"I just wanted to have a decent conversation with you and this is what I get? Seriously? A backlash from some twenty-something year old guy who acts like a fourteen year old who was back stabbed by his 'best friend'?" I lash out.

He darkly looms over me, closing me in between his lock. An arm on each side, not touching me, but forcing me to the wall. He looks down, breathing in and out heavily. He looks up into my hazel green eyes, staring me down with his dark brown orbs, anger clearly showing in his eyes. The smell of his cigarette, lingering around his body as I have to close my eyes to remove myself from his death glare and to calm myself from gagging at the smell of the perished drug.

"I'm sorry," he starts out with complete sass laced through his words. "But I can't seem to handle a petty woman, excuse me, girl, who is about the same age as me and hasn't learned how to communicate and trust others." My eyes are still closed. And then, a dark memory of a man's hand came to grasp out in my mind. I freak out and push him away.

"Get away from me! You're too close!" I shout, his anger simmered away quickly as worry cloud his eyes. I am livid, the flashback that hadn't threatened me for 8 years came back. I place both of my hands to cover my ears. I sink down to the dank alley floor, the damp ground soaking my bottoms, but I couldn't care as I only wanted someone to comfort me. But that person? My dad that used to come to my side.

Every.

Single.

Time?

Non-existent. Gone.

Dead.

"Hazel, are you alright? Hazel, say something!" He grasps my shoulders harshly, enforcing the flashback to come even stronger. He shakes me as my body trembles in fear. I am 26 and yet I am here. Shaking like an eight year old.

"Someone...help me... please." I faint slumping my shoulders into his grasp as I hear him panic, trying to help me regain my conscience, but I feel myself being lifted and be hit by the strong scent of coffee. Screams lurking in the air.