She hurts, she hurts, all of her hurts. Hazel hasn't been sleeping well. Not for a long time, and she wouldn't now either. She'd been on edge, ragged, frayed. The straw that breaks the camel's back? Maybe. Everything is a raw nerve. Masking as best she can, trying, failing. Slipping. Stumbling.
Stealing from Halo's stores again-- Hazel you're a fucking adult you don't have to steal. You don't have to sneak it's yours to take and yet... still. Still she does. Mask what she's feeling. Mask what she's doing. Try not to feel so awfully, so terribly, so horribly numb about it. Fuck, okay, Hazel is trying.
It's not until she's sure Spider is okay and not alone that she slips off, that she steals a bottle from Halo's stash, that she decides she needs to drown her feelings. Climbing atop one of the sea-beaten boulders on the shore, curling up tightly. Hoping that the rest of the rocks are enough to conceal her from any wandering eyes. An inky early summer evening spreading around her and nothing left to do, Hazel drinks. Fuck why did everything hurt.
