Hazel's Point of View
The sharp shrill sound of my alarm splits through the quiet, dragging me from restless sleep. I groan and slap at my phone until the noise stops. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, the last wisps of dream clinging to the edges of my mind. Crimson eyes. Dark hair. The woman still lingers in my thoughts like a shadow refusing to lift.
But the day is waiting, and I have a lecture to give.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stretch, my joints protesting the movement. The morning light spills weakly through my curtains, casting faint gold streaks across the hardwood floor. I shuffle into the bathroom, splash cold water on my face, and run a comb through my tangled hair. My reflection stares back at me, tired, but determined.
I dress in so
