The Striek

The last set of plate was plunged into the water by hazel. She washed the dishes, the clutter of plates and silverware echoing in the kitchen.

Hazel asked the others to retire to bed and that she'll handle the rest.

She was tired as well but since she's been away she decided to take it upon herself.

She rinsed the utensils, a sigh of satisfaction escaped her lips. Her evening chores were finally complete.

A quick glance at the grandfather clock in the corner confirmed it was almost midnight.

She hastened everything up and took a bottle of water after ensuring that everything was done.

Hazel carefully placed the duster back in its designated cupboard, a small, almost secret smile playing on her lips. She loved the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.

She straightened her simple grey uniform, smoothing out any imaginary wrinkles, and started her ascent up the grand, sweeping staircase.

The polished wood felt cool and smooth beneath her fingertips. As she reached the first landing, a sudden, sharp sound pierced the air. A shriek.

A shriek of pure, unadulterated pain. accompanied with a violent crush of glass shattering.

Hazel froze. the bottle of water clutched tightly in her hands. with her eyes wide open. her heart hammered against her ribs.

A frantic drumbeat against the sudden, chilling stillness. she heard the shriek again. loud and clear. statling her.

she recognized the voice, And it was unmistakably Mr. Stern's voice.

But it was a sound so raw, so filled with terror, that she almost couldn't believe it. He was a man of composure, of quiet authority.

Such a sound seemed utterly alien coming from him.

Fear, cold and clammy, gripped her.

Hazel was scarred, but instinct took over.

she knew she had to go to him. something was terribly worng. She quickened her pace, her shoes making soft, urgent sounds on the carpeted hallway . She reached the door to Mr. stern's room and hesitated for only a fraction of a second. Then, she pushed it open.

What she saw on the other side of that door would forever be etched into her memory, a horrifying tableau that would haunt her dreams.

It was a scene of utter chaos, a stark contrast to the usual, meticulous order of the room.

The room was in disarray. Expensive furniture was overturned, papers scattered across the floor like fallen leaves.

A heavy, ornate rug was twisted and bunched up, as if a violent struggle had taken place.

And in the center of the room, lying amidst the chaos, was Mr. Stern.

He was on the floor, his body twisted at an unnatural angle.

His usually impeccable suit was torn and bloodied.

But it wasn't the disarray or the blood that made Hazel's breath catch in her throat. It was the wound.

It was on his chest, a deep, ragged gash that looked… animalistic.

Not the clean cut of a knife or a blade, but something… savage.

Deep claw marks, as if some wild beast had raked its claws across his flesh.

Hazel stared, her mind reeling, trying to comprehend what she was seeing.

It was beyond anything she could have imagined. It was… monstrous.

The sight of it sent a wave of nausea churning in her stomach. She wanted to scream, to run, to escape the horror of the scene.

But something, some sense of duty, some ingrained instinct to help, kept her rooted to the spot. She had to do something.

And not just Mr. Stern's. The air was thick with the metallic scent, a smell Hazel would never forget.

She took a shaky step forward, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a scream. She had seen injuries before, the occasional scrape or cut, but nothing… nothing like this.

This was… this was something else entirely. This was a scene from a nightmare. And it was real.

Despite the shock and the primal fear that clawed at her insides, Hazel's first instinct was to help.

She rushed towards him, her hands outstretched, a desperate plea forming in her throat. "Mr. stern! What happened? Are you… are you alright?" hazel asked tears streaming in her eyes.

But as she reached him, he flinched, a guttural groan escaping his lips.

He pushed her away, his hand – also bloodied – connecting with her arm with surprising force. "Stay back!" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

The force of the push sent Hazel stumbling backward, her hands flying up to catch herself. She landed heavily on the floor, the breath knocked out of her. She stared at him, her eyes wide with confusion and hurt.

He was pushing her away? When she was trying to help him.

Mr. stern,please," she stammered, her voice trembling. "Let me help you. We need to get a doctor…"

He shook his head, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and something else… something that looked like shame. "No," he said, his voice stronger this time, though still strained. "Just… go. Leave me."

Hazel was stunned. She couldn't understand. He was clearly badly injured, and he was refusing her help?