The Dancer

12. The Rescue

Sara was dressed only in a pair of black cotton underwear. Her breasts exposed. If under any other circumstance Malcolm would have been in awe over them. This was not the time to even acknowledge them however.

What kind of place was this? To have private rooms that held such a contraption. She was hanging on the wall. Her arms and legs were spread apart, tied to form a figure which resembled David's star. Her head was low but she was moving, turning her head groggily.

Blood came from her wrists due to the tight rope that held her in place. Her body was forming bruises.

Somehow in the 30 minutes in which he'd gotten her call, she'd been put in this position. Seeing her here made him physically ill, causing pain to stretch across his body.

Malcolm called out to Howard who was waiting in the hallway.

"Call 911!" He screamed.

Malcolm launched himself into action, first untying her wrists.

He pulled the rope away from her, the blood coming from her wrists dripped onto the floor. Her feet were then untied, the ropes already begining to cut through the skin of her ankles.

She fell from the black metal contraption that was against the wall, landing into Malcolms arms. She mumbles a "please" and a low "help me" prompting Malcolm's heart to break.

With Sara in his arms, Malcolm falls to the floor, landing on his knees. He craddles her against his chest.

For the first time in a long time, Malcolm looks up, at the ceiling, closes his eyes and prays.

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Sara's wrists were now wrapped up, as were her ankles. According to the nurse, her skin on her back and stomach were turning purple. The only bruising not covered by the hospital blanket was the marks on her neck, hickies.

It was near 4 AM. Malcolm had tossed his tie and jacket onto the back of the visitors chair he currently resides in. He had unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He looked like a complete mess. His hair was disheveled, his eyes now red from lack of sleep. Malcolm was at war with himself, trying to figure out how to tell her parents, if he should tell her parents. How could he tell his friend that he found his daughter tied to some BDSM contraption in a club, more than half naked, bleeding from rope burns? How would Sara live with the torment of being attacked like this? If she didn't remember, how could he tell her the truth?

She mumbles in her sleep, a few times she calls out a "help me" and sometimes she pleads "stop!" The medicine given to her was helping her sleep but Malcolm was worried it was only forcing her to stay in a horrible nightmare. He paced for several minutes to avoid the temptation of waking her, after she relaxed he would sit down again.

The doctor wanted to check for signs of rape but needed her consent in order to do so. He said he would come back once she awoke, which would hopefully be within the next hour or two.

Malcolm couldn't stop himself from falling asleep, his exhaustion was overcoming his senses and soon he was unable to think. He rested in the visitors chair, his hand extended to the bed, latching onto Sara's cold hand. His dreams weren't of Sara but rather focused on a fight. He dreamed of beating an unknown entity, choking the life out of the unknown person who'd harmed Sara. His anger surrounding him whilst he slept.

Malcolm awoke to the feeling of his hand being pulled. His head shook as his eyes fluttered open. The pain from bright lights hit him hard as if he was experiencing a hangover. Being awake for 24 hours only to sleep for three, will do that to you.

When his eyes were able to focus, the burning sensation was now only faint, he saw Sara's beautiful green eyes. She stared at him, her eyebrows knitted, her lips stuck in a sad pout. She looked confused but deep down he knew she remembered what had occured.

He stood up only to lean on the edge of the bed. He took her hand bringing it to his lips to kiss lightly. The affection within this gesture was grand however felt normal. It took only a minute for Sara to begin sobbing, followed by Malcolm pulling her close to him.

She held onto him, sobbing into his chest. He kissed her head, attempting to shush her cries. She tried to rid her pain in her sobs and small screams. She cried into his chest so hard that her body was shaking, her nails digging into his back.

"I got you, it's okay, sweetheart, I got you," Malcolm tries to sooth her.

The pain in his chest was overwhelming. To see her in this state was pure hell. His body felt physical pain from hearing her cry in pain and from seeing her tears.

He promised himself that the man who'd done this to her would pay. The man would be gutted, shot, stabbed, skined. Malcolm had never felt this much anger, this much vengence. He had also never felt this strongly about someone.

His heart had grown attatched to her even in their short conversations. Her presence was enough for him. He'd helped her in her time of need, having her around his office a lot he was able to know her better than most. Soon her presence made him smile and excited. Her beauty captivated him. All of these emotions swallowed him whole.

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Malcolm waited outside Sara's hospital room. He paced back and force barely able stay still. The doctor said it would be a while, so after minutes of pacing he decided to walk away from her door.

Malcolm strolled down a few hallways until he stumbles upon the smell of coffee. He followed his sense of smell and after a few minutes of wondering he came upon a small cafeteria.

He hurried towards the coffee maker, pulling a redish purple colored cup from its stack then pulling the lever of the coffee machine. After tightening a lid on the cup, he repeated the steps getting a second cup for Sara. He remembered how Sara took her coffee from watching her in the break room when she was at his office. He poured four small things of creamer and added two packet of sugar. He was cautious, grabbing extra sugar and creamer in case she needed more.
Malcolm also ended up grabbing one of her favorite candies from the rack by the cashier, some chocolate and carmal like wafer. He was about to pay for the contents when he caved into getting her more of her favorite things.

Sara watched as her doctor and nurse left the room, forcing her to be alone.

No signs of rape. She was relieved that her virginity was intact. Her dignity and sense of safety were six feet under with the coffin nailed shut, however.

She wrapped her arms around herself, scared of being alone. The room was plain, white tiles and walls. It was open yet she felt claustrophobic.

Minutes passed and soon her body was shaking from fear. She felt eyes on her, she felt someone near her yet she didnt see anything. It was like the feeling she used to get when she was a kid. The feeling that a monster was under her bed or in her closet. The feeling that a ghost roamed her home and that any moment it would jump out and scream at you, try to take you away.

As tears filled her eyes there was a soft knock at the door. It swung open causing her heart to race. She shuddered and felt imense fear shake her to her core.

"I got cof-" the familiar voice stopped imediately. Malcolm was quick to place the coffee down as well the paper bag that was tucked into his arm. He rushed to her, sitting on the edge of the bed like he had before. His hands reached out, cupping her face, bringing her to his chest. His arms wrapped around her like a blanket after she'd been cold for so long. His heat warmed her as she shook, crying into him.

"I'm not leaving again, okay. I promise," he whispers to her. His lips sneak a kiss on her forehead one last time.