A Harmful Past

I’m soooooo sorry for being gone, again. I wasn’t in a good place mentally (still not in a good place), but I assure you I’m getting better and I’ll try to get back to updating. For now enjoy this chapter and more to come :)

“Mom, is it done?”

“It’s almost done, Hay Hay.”

I remember the days when I couldn’t stop smiling, when everyday was the best day of my life. Me and my mother were making a Caramel Cinnamon Spice cake for my father’s first day back home. A beautiful, sunny day, it was August 16, 2012, the day my father was to come home from the army after a long two years. I was only five at the time, unaware of the dark shadow the people have casted over the world. 

My mother was a gift from god: long, wavy hair that was dyed dark violet with blond highlights, she had a job that could mask up any incident. She was trustworthy, loyal, passionate; everything a man would want in a woman. Her looks, however, covered up her child-like personality. She loved little toys, glitter, stuffed animals, tiny dresses, everything. Strange that woman was. Pumpkin Spice was her favorite thing in the world, sometimes I thought she loved it more than her own family. Candles, creamer, pastries, perfumes, etc. You name it, she had it, but for some unknown reason, she fell in love with a poor, british, newsie. He was ‘different’ she said; he was different alright.

My father never had more than thirty bucks when he was younger. A poor dreamer in a world full of nightmares. He met my mother when he was looking for witnesses to a gruesome murder that happen on the streets of New York City. He bumped into her when he was exiting a cafe on July 19, 1995. He spilled coffee on her newly bought dress that cost nearly 4 times the amount he’s paid, but instead of getting angry, she took one look at the man and felt pity. He offered to buy her a new dress but she declined, she tried offering him another cup of coffee but he declined. She knew this man would be too kind to take this woman’s money, so she dragged him out to the streets and gave him a job opportunity, one he couldn’t resist: a job as her secretary. He was baffled, but he declined her offer. 

She was perplexed. Such an amazing offer, turned down by a poor man. When asking why, he just said, “Because I wouldn’t be able to see the beauty of the streets anymore, Miss.” “Then what can I give you? Anything, just name it.” The man looked around, the city around him was fought for, people died for this city to be built, so he told her, “I want to be a part of the army. Can you do that for me, Miss?” He gave her a hopeful smile, a smile that stuck with her the rest of her life. “My name is Susan, Susan Hopkins.” “My name is Walten Daggerheart.” “Well Mr. Daggerheart, I can do that for you.”

He went in the field not even a year later, leaving Miss Hopkins alone. She loved that man more than anything, but her family would never allow that. “That man is too broke, too dirty!” “He would never be a part of our family! My poor baby, cursed by the devil.” The words of her parents flood her head as she decides what to do. In the end, she ignored her parents and to the man how she felt to which the feelings he returned. Years later they had me, the best thing that ever happened to them, and here we are now.

I was cracking eggs into the translucent, green bowl we got for Christmas the year before. I thought the shell was also supposed to be put into the bowl for the recipe, so I dropped all of the egg shells into the bowl and giggled mischievously. “Now what’s so funny, Hay Hay?” My mother had her “F*ck the Chef” apron on, hyphen and all, my father thought it would be funny to buy her on Mother’s Day considering she was very stressed from work. “The egg shells crack a lot!” “The what-?” Upon noticing the egg shells were no longer on the counter, she made her way over to the bowl to find that the egg shells were mixed with the rest of the wet ingredients of the recipe. “Hazel, no! You messed it up!” “I did? I’m so sorry.” She tried picking the egg shells out of the bowl, opon falling, she looked me in the eye. “It’s okay, Hay Hay. It’s my fault for trusting a five year old with eggs.” She took me off of my kid stairs and put me on the floor. “Why don’t you- Ding Dong- Oh? Hay Hay go get the door for me as I make a new batch of wet ingredients, okay?” “Alright.”

I walked out of the kitchen and made my way to the front door. I was small but tall enough to reach the handle, upon opening the door, I was met with a tall man that was wearing an army uniform. He picked me up and spun me around, “Hey squirt, remember me?” My mom put down the ingredients and made her way to the front door, “Walten? You’re supposed to arrive at 10:30, what are you doing- George?” My little eyes looked over to the man holding me. He wasn’t my father, instead, I was met with a familiar face: my uncle’s. “What are you doing here brother?” “Does uncle Georg want to help make a cake? We’re making one for daddy!” He looked down at me, sadness filling his eyes. “Not now sweetheart, a-actually, how about you go to your room and draw him a picture?” “Sure!” He put me down as I ran off to my small room. No matter how rich my mother may be, she hates big houses, so she stays in small apartments where they could watch me grow.

I snuck off into the kitchen and grabbed two paper bags and attached them to a long rope my father kept in his room. In that bag I put a can of beans, peas, carrots, three apples, three bottles of water, some towels, plus some pastries mom bought earlier. The porch in my parents room looked out into the streets where the homeless bundled up near a small barrel fire that was right under our porch. Looking out, I saw they were looking up at me, immediately their faces turning into joy. “Hazel! How are you?” “Good Afternoon, Hazel!” About a week after we moved into this house, my father noticed these people down here and thought about how he was like that when he was younger, causing him to feel empathetic. He got a trash bag, put food, water, and other things into it, and sent it down with a rope he had in his room. Ever since then, we’ve been doing it almost every single day. 

“Good afternoon! I got some stuff for you guys- and I got some cheesecake and stuff for you!” I slowly lowered it with the rope to which the people kindly took and shared amongst themselves. “Thank you Hazel!” “Have a good night sweetheart!”  “Are you sure your mom allowed you to give us the desserts?” I paused. “Oh- well- um.” I received laughter from the people below, it always brought a smile to my face. “It’s alright sweetheart, we won’t tell your momma!” “Yeah, now don’t chu worry ‘bout us!” They began to laugh again. Such kind people. “Haha- Thank you! Have a good night!” I raised the rope back up and turned to leave. “Bye!”

I closed the sliding door and slid the blinds shut, behind me I could hear crying- or screaming, I couldn’t remember. “Hazel? Hazel?!” “I’m right here momma!” She turned around. Her beautiful face was stained with tears, her brother following behind her, his face showing the same expression. “What’s wrong?” Those two words caused my mother to cry in agony. My uncle comforted her and told her to sit in the living room while he broke the news to me. I was so confused and unaware.

My uncle bent down and put a hand on my shoulder, 

“Hazel, something happened to your dad, alright?” 

“What happened to him? Is he hurt?” 

“No, he’s not hurt. He- um, isn’t coming back. Do you understand?”

“No? Why is he not coming back?”

“Well- um- you see Hazel-” His voice begins to crack as his eyes swell with tears, “Your father is not on earth anymore- he is in another place called heaven and he is very happy there-”

“He left me?”

“No! No, no, no- he loves you he would never leave you, he was forced- yeah! He was forced to leave you- but he misses you very much-”

“But you just said he was happy, why is he happy if he doesn’t want to be there?” Who forced him?”

“Hazel-”

“Where’s daddy? Where is my daddy, uncle Georg?”

I could hear my mom’s crying pick up volume as I continued to ask questions. It hurt too much.

“Where is he?”

“He’s- he’s-”

“He’s what-”

“He’s dead Hazel. He’s not coming back.”

I remember that conversation, everyday I wake up and that’s the first thing I remember- but why now? Is it because I miss him? No, that’s not it. 

Maybe it’s because I just got dragged underwater…

“HAZEL!” 

Switching POVs  ...

Danielle’s POV:

“Guys there’s something in the water.” 

As I finish my sentence, Hazel gets violently pulled underwater. I tried to react but too much was happening. The boat was swaying from side to side, trying to catch its balance as I try to catch my breath. Damien was yelling, the dog was barking, our boat was sinking- it all happened so fast.

“Damien, come here!” I grabbed Damien and held him up. “When I count to three: you jump up onto the top of that tree alright?!” He nodded his head. He looked so scared, I feel horrible. “Okay! 1, 2, 3-” “HAZEL! Danielle look!” He was right: Hazel was laying on one of the large roots of the trees. She looked absolutely torn up, but she was still breathing. “Once you get on top of the tree, pull her up, okay?” “Right!” I boosted him up on top of the tree and he slowly got closer to her, reaching for her shirt. The dog would not stop barking, but he wasn’t barking at the water anymore, he was barking at Hazel.

Now that I think about it: Hair was longer than before.

“Damien, don't touch-” SPLASH

Damien got dragged in the water by the Hazel Doppelganger. I lost another one. I turned around and noticed the dog was also gone. Hazel, Damien, whoever the dog was, they were all gone. The boat was almost submerged into the water and I was the only one left on it. I tried to stand up but the boat was too unstable, and I fell on my knees. I attempted to stand up again, which turned out to be a success. In desperation, I leapt onto the nearest tree and climbed as high as I could.

I looked down into the water, those things were looking up at me. They were greyish with deep black eyes, their necks were covered in gills and their legs were two large fish fins. It was two ugly to look at. In their hands I could see Hazel, Damien, and the struggling dog, when they noticed I was looking at them, they began taunting me. Shaking them, waving them around, it made me furious. 

I could tell they were running out of air though, Damien tried to release himself from their grip and the dog wouldn’t stop squirming around, but I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t swim, I was too scared. What kind of fucking friend am I?

“What the hell is wrong with you? THEY'RE JUST KIDS!” I was so angry at myself.

“LET 'EM GO!” I was so useless.

“I-”

“Calm.”

I recognized that voice. It sounded like multiple people at the same time, but the loudest was the voice of a female. I looked up to the tree across from me, and there he sat.

“Calico.”

Bitch, I’m fucking dead.

Word count - 2095