Deadlines were closing in for practice. Sara worked hard day and night at the studio, dancing away her worries.
Malcolm's friend from the police department looked into the letter and ordered a patrol car to be placed outside Sara's dorm. Malcolm's worries became less and less present as there were no appearances by the stranger that sent Sara the letter. Even though the criminal was becoming less of a problem and more like a memory, Malcolm refused to let Sara back to her dorm since her roommate was constantly staying with her aunt.
Over the several days that past, Sara put herself into her dancing while Malcolm worked hard on his cases. After Sara was done with classes she would go to Malcolm's office and work on scholarship essays and read over the material for West Side Story.
Over time, however, Sara became more and more awkward with Malcolm's presence. Her dream had left her confused and ashamed. She acknowledged Malcolm's handsomeness and the appeal of his character, however, she was constantly reminded that this man was her father's friend and more than twice her age. Nevertheless, Sara caught glances at Malcolm at his desk as she sat on his office couch. She would constantly admire his chiseled features and tall muscular build but she would never stare long enough for him to notice.
Malcolm, on the other hand, was becoming a ticking time bomb. His appendage had been saluting his dreams every morning since his first dream of Sara. The dreams were growing longer, more vivid, and very explicit. He had pictured her naked several times, laying on his bed, legs spread open, ready for him to do as he pleased.
There were several mornings in which Malcolm had to take the cold shower but he absolutely refused to think of Sara, however, this led to several unsatisfied failed attempts.
He was growing hungry, for anything with breasts, two legs and a sweet vision in-between. He felt like a monster that was trapped in a cage and a sweet innocent girl was outside it, taunting him.
Sara had just finished practicing her routine at the studio but something in her did not want to go to Malcolm's office. While walking down the city street, she approached a crosswalk and waited patiently with all the other pedestrians. She pulled out her phone from her jacket pocket and texted Malcolm.
I need to grab some things at my dorm. I might stay there for the night. Don't wait up.
Malcolm was sitting at his desk, his head burning with dissatisfaction. He felt sick to his stomach almost, desperately needing something. His phone buzzed and he groaned. The text was clear but he didn't accept it, he felt a sense of frustration arise within him suddenly. He texted back sternly, grinding his molars.
Don't. I'll have Lucien pick you up in a half hour and bring you home. Just because a patrol car is there doesn't mean it's safe.
Her phone buzzed in her hand and when she read the text she ignored the order and rolled her eyes. She went to the dorm, getting her mail first then she went up to her room.
She grabbed a few more clothes, shoving them in a small bag then moving to her bathroom. She shoved a few extra girl things into a small makeup bag then tossed that into the other bag. Once done, she laid on her bed with a sigh.
She liked the idea of being in control. Her eyes closed and she relaxed into the comforter. Her muscles relaxing and her breaths became easy. She was in a zen state. Sadly, after several minutes, this zen state was taken away by a knock at the door. She stood up and opened the door, expecting to see the tall, dark-skinned, bald, very muscular, suit-wearing security agent who went by the name Lucien. She had met the man twice and she would never forget him, he was terrifying. When she opened the door a tall, thin, white man stood before her, he wore a suit, his blonde hair combed back, a scar was visible under his right eye. He gave a quick smile.
"Mr. Linden sent me. I'm Lucien," he says. A grin appears on his face that sends shivers down her spine.
This man was not Lucien. Sara knew that instantly. He was lying and his smile was mischievous, so much so that she could feel the danger lingering off of him. She swallowed hard then faked a smile. She needed to play along. Just until she got downstairs and was able to run for the patrol car that was parked outside her dorm.
"Yea, he told me you were coming," she says desperately trying to not give it away that she was scared out of her mind.
"We better get going. Mr. Linden was adamant about you getting home," he says.
"Of course," she breathes out shakily.
She turns and grabs her bag, trying not to shake. His smile faded suddenly when she turned back to him. Her heart was beating so fast that she felt like it was shaking her entire body.
"We better hurry," she says gesturing to the door. The man nods and turns. She needed a new plan, something else to get him away from her.
Once they were in the hall, Sara stopped walking and let out a sigh.
"Damn, I forgot my book," she says smacking her forehead.
She turns to go back but like she had planned, the man stood before her and offered to get it for her. She thanked him as he entered back into her dorm. Once he was in the room she dropped her bag and bolted. Running down the hall, down the staircases. She could hear the man curse and his footsteps picking up behind her. She felt herself shake as she ran, her legs feeling light and free, the adrenaline bursting through her veins.
She ran down the main hallway towards the front door. Two people sitting in the main hall glanced at her but ignored the situation. She ran out the front door and down the steps.
The patrol car. It was gone. She heard the front door swing open as the mysterious man exited the building hastily. She turned down the sidewalk in front of the dorm and ran as fast as she could. She glanced over her shoulder to look at the man but suddenly she felt her entire body collapse, a hard impact. The sound of screeching was the last thing she heard before she hit the asphalt.
___________________________
"What were you thinking!" Malcolm yelled.
Sara held the ice to her head as she sat on the couch. The harsh impact of her body and head hitting the ground left a long gash on her head but it didn't need stitches thankfully. Her head pounded as she continued to replay the events of the car's breaks slamming to prevent from hitting her as she stumbled into the road. She was thankful the middle-aged woman and her son ran out of their vehicle to help her and allowed for the mysterious man to change his plan and run instead.
"Please counselor, calm down. We know this is a very stressful situation," the police officer says. He is about to refer back to his notebook but Malcolm scoffs. The police officer standa by the fireplace in the living room, he is good at assessing the situation but like everyone else is terrible at calming down Malcolm.
"Stressful? The man got into her dorm and tried to do God knows what, and there was no patrol car there! Nothing! You were supposed to watch and make sure this didn't happen!" Malcolm's voice was becoming so loud and full of stress and anger that his face began to turn red.
The loud noise was causing Sara's head to burn. Memories of the constant fights at home between her parents were causing her to feel sick. Suddenly the stress of it all had gotten to her. The yelling, the pain in her head, the memories, the orders Malcolm gave her, the fear.
"Tell me how any of this is okay! What are you doing to keep her safe? Because I am-" Malcolm's yells throw Sara over the edge. The ringing in her ears and the pressure in her chest was painful as her heartbeat spiked.
"Stop!" She screamed in the middle of Malcom's sentence.
She stood up and brushed by the two police officers with such anger that she shoved one aside. She stormed past the dining room table and into the foyer. She hurries up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door.
It didn't take long before Malcolm was banging on her door with his fists.
"Sara, open the door!" He yelled. She grinds her teeth and doesn't respond, nor does she obey his orders. She was done. She had had it with Malcolm's parenting, and over bearing protectiveness. She understood her situation but he didn't need to dictate where she went 24/7 and how she did things. The confinements of this penthouse were suffocating her.
She grabbed her duffel bag and began shoving her clothes into the bag. She just needed to go home.
"Sara, if you don't open this door, I will break it down," he says sternly. His anger that seeped out without yelling caused her to shiver. It was terrifying more so than anything she had heard before. She refused to open it however, as she unzipped the duffel bag to pack her things.
"Sara," he says again. Sara stops what she is doing and turna to the doorway. With tears now spilling from her eyes she decides to open the door. She grabs the handle, hesitantly and reluctantly she creaks open the door. When she looked up at him, he simply sighs.
Her eyes were red from holding in the tears of her fear stricken night. She wanted to form into a ball. She wanted to go home, but at the same time, she didn't.
"Sara," he breathed out with sadness.
He moved an arm around her, pulling her to him. Her face met his chest as his arms wrapped around her. She slowly let herself move her arms up his back, her skin felt like it was on fire. She breathed in his scent. Alcohol, leather, almost like the smell of a new book.
She was so small in his arms. He let himself go, allowing himself to hug her, breath her in. He smelled the flowery scent of her hair, he felt the softness of her skin.
I have no feelings. Just a father figure.
He tells himself this but he can't help himself. Her grip on him grows tighter and he feels as if he is being pulled into the most dangerous situation of his life.