Hazel's Point of View
The morning light bleeds weakly through the curtains as I blink up at the ceiling, the stale residue of another restless night clinging to my skin like a second layer. I exhale slowly, rubbing my eyes with the heel of my palm. There’s no use lying here. Today, I need to follow through on what I told Drake, I need to see if I can make arrangements to return to Blackwater, even if just for a little while.
With a quiet groan, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and push myself up. The hardwood floor is cool beneath my feet as I cross the room to my closet. I’m not in the mood for anything flashy or tight, not today. I pull out a soft, floor length skirt in a muted charcoal gray and pair it with a cream sweater that falls loosely over my hips. Comfortable. Neutral.
