Hazel's POV
I finally opened the door and fixed my gaze on her. "You said my parents were thrown into prison along with yours. When exactly did this happen?" I asked, my voice laced with worry.
"It was three days ago," she explained. "At first, I wanted to reach you, but you'd already disappeared, and I doubted you wanted to be found. So I had to wait until Liam wasn't watching my every move before sneaking out to tell you." Her eyes locked onto mine as she stepped closer.
"So, did my parents send you here? Is that why you came?" My tone was sharp, though beneath it, I could hear the waver of uncertainty in my own voice. "If that's the case, don't bother. I'm not concerned about what happens to them. This is what they deserve for treating their daughter like an outcast."
But the redness burning my eyes betrayed me. She could see it—my voice, my expression, everything was giving me away. I quickly turned aside, trying to hide, but she took another step forward.
"Hazel, none of this is your fault," she said softly. "You've only ever been a victim. You don't deserve what happened to you. What hurts me is that you're the one forced to run and hide, while Liam takes his anger out on your parents. And you can pretend otherwise, but I know you still care."
I turned back toward her after a long pause, tears shimmering in my eyes. She sighed when she noticed. "Don't fight it. You've been hurt, yes, but you're still human. You can't deny yourself the right to feel. They are your parents, after all," she murmured.
Why could she read me so easily? Why did she see the sadness I was trying to bury? Why was I even crying for people who had broken me so deeply?
I despised myself for feeling pity. They had never cared about my pain, never noticed the scars they carved into me. Yet here I was, torn apart by guilt for emotions I shouldn't have had.
I turned sharply, walked to the bed, and sank down, burying my face in my palms as a tired sigh escaped me. The weight of emotion pressed hard against my chest.
After a while, the mattress dipped beside me. Skyler's hand rested lightly on my back, hesitant, as though afraid of my reaction. "Don't blame yourself," she whispered. "You had no choice but to run. Anyone in your place would have done the same. It was survival. I'd have done it too—if I had the chance. But Liam would have found me too easily."
I lifted my head slowly, my eyes glistening. "How can I not feel guilty?" My voice broke. "I hate them for what they did to me, but I can't explain why it hurts to know they're paying for it now. Maybe because I never wanted this—I never wanted Liam to be the one passing judgment. He's no different from them, and it kills me that he gets to be their executioner."
A shaky breath escaped me. "I'm disappointed in them… furious, even. They neglected me, they broke me. But still, they should face punishment in a different way—not like this. Not when they don't even realize what they've done to me. None of this feels right. And I hate myself for feeling this way." I shook my head violently, tears sliding down my cheeks.
Silence stretched between us. Skyler just sat there, her hand still hovering uncertainly on my back.
"I don't know about you," she finally said, "but I'm tired of this. Tired of running. Tired of cowering from him." Her tone was sharp with resolve.
I turned toward her, frowning. "What do you mean?"
Her eyes gleamed with a strange determination. "We can rescue them. Both your parents and mine. We'll break into the prison and free them. Together, we can make it happen—you just need to come with me."
Something in her voice felt… off. Too certain.
"And how exactly do you expect us to pull that off?" I asked after a moment.
"I already have a plan. But first—" she pulled out a small glass bottle, tilting it toward me, "you need to take this. It'll hide your scent from Liam. He knows your scent by now, but this will cloak it. That way, he won't realize we've infiltrated the prison."
I eyed the liquid suspiciously. Should I really trust her? My instincts screamed hesitation, yet the thought of rescuing my family gnawed at me.
Slowly, I reached for the bottle, bringing it to my lips.
"Drink," she urged.
Closing my eyes, I forced myself to swallow the contents in one gulp. The bitter taste coated my tongue, and I grimaced,
glaring at her as I lowered the empty bottle.