Daughter Of Shadow's King

Chapter 5: Shadows At Dawn

Shadows At Dawn

Hazel's POV

She limped to the kitchen, bruises on her arms and face hidden under long sleeves and makeup. She quickly whipped up breakfast - eggs, toast, and tea - for her stepfamily. They'd beat her if it wasn't perfect.

After serving them, she rushed off to college on foot, textbooks heavy in her bag, pain shooting through her body with every step. First year was tough enough without being treated like a slave.

As she walked, she stared at the dirty streets, lost in thought. How long could she keep this up?

She trudged along, trying to block out the ache in her body and the voices in her head. She arrived at college, breathless and sweaty. Her stepsisters, Sophia and Emma, were already there, giggling with friends. They shot her a dirty look when she tried to join them.

She found a seat in the back, trying to make herself invisible. The professor took attendance, then started lecturing. She scribbled notes, her hand shaking with exhaustion.

As the class ended, Sophia sneered, "Look at you, Hazel. You smell like sweat. Go clean yourself up."

Her eyes dropped, but she bit her tongue. No reaction. Just survive.

In class

The professor assigned group work, and Sophia snatched the spot next to her, making sure Hazel got paired with the class nerd, Rohan. "Perfect match," Sophia sneered.

Rohan, oblivious to the drama, smiled warmly at Hazel. "Hey, want to grab notes together?"

She hesitated, unsure how to respond. No one had ever been kind to her. But Rohan seemed genuine.

As they worked, Rohan whispered, "You okay? You look...tired."

Her guard dropped for a second, and her eyes welled up. She looked away, scared.

Rohan's expression turned concerned. "Hey, if you need help...I'm here."

Her heart skipped a beat. No one had offered help before.

She looked away, blinking back tears. She whispered to herself, "You can do this, Hazel. Don't let them break you. Just a few more months, just survive." She took a deep breath, forcing a small smile at Rohan. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

Rohan looked unsure but nodded. "Okay, let's get this done then."

She focused on the task, surprised by how easy it was to work with Rohan. He didn't treat her like a servant or mock her. Maybe, just maybe, this college thing wouldn't be so bad.

As they worked, her mind wandered to her stepfamily's reaction if they knew she was making friends. "You'll never amount to anything, Hazel," her stepmother would sneer.

Rohan nudged her, snapping her back. "Hey, you okay? You spaced out."

Her cheeks flushed. "Yeah, sorry. Just...thinking."

Rohan smiled. "I do that too. Sometimes I imagine escaping to a beach."

Her eyes widened. She'd never thought of escape like that. "What's it like?" she whispered.

Rohan's face lit up. "Peaceful. You can breathe."

Hazel's heart ached for that feeling. She glanced at Rohan, wondering if she'd found a tiny spark of hope.

Rohan started describing his favorite beach in Goa, the sound of waves, and the smell of saltwater. Hazel listened, entranced. For a moment, she forgot her bruises and the constant fear.

The group work ended, and Sophia dragged Hazel away, hissing, "Don't get too cozy with anyone. You're nothing."

Hazel's spark of hope flickered but didn't die. She looked back at Rohan, who waved.

On the walk home, Hazel's feet hurt, but her mind was elsewhere. "I can do this. I can survive," she whispered.

When she reached home, her stepfamily was waiting. "Where's dinner?" her stepfather growled.

Hazel jumped into action, cooking, serving, staying quiet.

Dinner was tense. Hazel served everyone, head down. Her stepsisters started teasing her, calling her "useless" and "ugly". Hazel tried to ignore, but it stung.

Her stepbrother, Max, flicked food at her. "Look at her, trying to be human."

She finally snapped. "I'm trying my best. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Slap! Her stepmother's hand hit her cheek, sending her crashing to the floor. "How dare you speak back! You ungrateful brat!"

The room fell silent. Hazel's eyes welled up. She scrambled up, serving continued, tears mixing with blood from her lip.

Her stepfather sneered, "Useless thing. You're lucky we feed you."

Hazel quickly cleaned up the dinner table, avoiding eye contact. She scraped leftovers onto a plate, eating alone in the kitchen while standing. The food was cold, tasteless.

As she ate, her stepfamily laughed in the living room. "Good riddance," her stepmother said, loud enough for Hazel to hear.

Hazel's grip on the plate tightened. She took a deep breath, repeating her mantra, "I can do this. I can survive."

Suddenly, her stepbrother Max walked in, sneering at her plate. "This is what you're eating? Gross."

Hazel's eyes flashed, but she bit her tongue. No reaction. Just survive.

Max hovered closer, taunting Hazel. "You know why you're stuck eating leftovers? Because you're not worthy of decent food."

Hazel's hands trembled, but she stayed silent, focusing on her food.

Max leaned in, voice low. "You think you're going to college? Ha! You'll drop out like the failure you are."

Hazel's eyes dropped, but she whispered to herself, "I can do this. I won't let them break me."

Just then, her stepmother appeared. "What's going on here?"

Max smiled innocently. "Nothing, Mother. Just keeping Hazel company."

Hazel's stepmother glared at her. "Good. Make sure you're not wasting food. You're not worth wasting resources on."

Hazel nodded, finishing her food in silence.

After that she went back to her room

Hazel trudged to her small, dingy room, the weight of the day crushing her. She locked the door and leaned against it, letting out a silent sob. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel the pain and exhaustion.

As she looked in the mirror, a contrast struck her - the beauty staring back seemed out of place in this life. Her oceanic bluish-purple eyes, usually bright and full of life, looked dull and sad. Her rose-gold hair was tangled and messy, her porcelain skin marred by bruises. She gently touched her heart-shaped lips, remembering the slap earlier.

Hazel's gaze drifted to the small rose-scented candle on her nightstand, a rare gift from a childhood friend who had since moved away. She lit it, letting the fragrance envelop her. For a fleeting moment, she felt like the old Hazel, the one who dreamed of escape and happiness.

Suddenly, she heard her stepfamily's loud laughter downstairs. Reality snapped back. She blew out the candle, plunging her room into darkness. "I can do this," she whispered, preparing for another day.

In the End of the day she once again said 'I can and I will do it' and drifted to sleep.