Hazel’s POV
The second the door slammed behind him, I jumped off the bed like it had burned me.
My legs were shaky, knees weak, but I didn’t care. I ran straight to the bathroom, bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor.
I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet so hard the impact jarred my bones.
My fingers dug into my mouth—two, then three—pressing down on my tongue, reaching for the back of my throat.
I gagged.
Once.
Twice.
Then it came up—bitter, herbal, strange.
I threw up everything he’d forced down my throat.
The liquid splashed into the toilet, mixing with the wine I’d drunk earlier. My stomach heaved again and again until there was nothing left but dry heaves and the sour taste of shame.
I sat back on the cold floor, back against the wall, breathing hard.
My
