Chapter 3 TFT 3

When I looked up, I saw a man wearing a security uniform staring down at me. He's tall, and even with the small amount of light in the room, I can still recognize his face. He's the middle-aged security guard who was in the lobby downstairs.

The sight of him and not a burglar makes me startled. The moment I noticed his dark eyes roaming down my features, chills ran down my spine. He doesn't move, just standing there staring at me like I'm the most precious object in the room. I moved back as my pulse quickens.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, even though I know he's not here for his duty. "Are you checking my apartment? But I didn't call anyone." I keep talking, praying that I'm able to buy time before the security gets here.

I moved back again, and to my horror he stepped closer to me. He tilts his head, still eyeing me. A calm smile touches the corner of his lips.

"Ms McGregor," his low voice echoes in the room. It's filled with lust, and makes my stomach churn. I feel like vomiting. "You're pretty. Don't you know that?"

His words make me freeze. The security guard who's supposed to protect the occupants of this building is apparently a crazy stalker. Tears spring to my eyes as I look around for something I can use to protect myself against him. During that moment of distraction, he's already towering over me.

My lips tremble as I let out a soft cry. He gazes at me, as I lay down helplessly in front of him, his eyes glinting with excitement. He's sick.

Before his face draws closer to mine, I kick between his trousers with all the power I have in my body. A groan escaped from his mouth as I grabbed the bedside lamp, and hit his head with it. The action causes another groan from him, this time filled with anger.

I ran away from the room but he grabbed my leg, making me fall onto the ground with my face lying flat on the floor. I whimper with pain, and that's when I heard the sound of the front door banged open. Rushed footsteps and sounds filled the room, and before I knew it, the psycho's tight grip on my leg was gone.

Another security tried to help me up, but I screamed and abruptly snapped his hands away. I pushed back against the leg of the bed as I watched the scene before me. The psycho struggles as two other guards pin him on the floor. Another secured a handcuff around his wrist behind him.

"What the Fuck are you doing, Smith? Get off me." My stalker hissed furiously at his friend, who looked shocked but did his job regardless.

The other guards have disbelief on their faces too. They probably can't believe their colleague has become insane, while here I am, feeling like being consumed in the darkness.

They're friends. How can I be sure that I can trust them? What if they're all the same? I can't help but think.

The guard who was trying to help me looked at me apologetically, noticing my fear. I wrapped my arms around my body, still curling on the floor and shaking.

"We're deeply sorry for what just happened, Ms McGregor." There's only sympathy in his voice. "We apologize for this incident. We didn't expect Dave would commit such a crime."

A tear drops to my face as I listen to him, but I know even though I've been rescued, this place would not be the same to me.

About half an hour has passed. I'm now sitting at the edge of my bed with a blanket around me. The police are on their way here.

I watch as the chief security talks to his subordinates. He looks furious and devastated. I've lost count of the number of times he has apologized to me.

I'm safe now, but my body is still trembling and I still haven't spoken a word. A female employee is sitting beside me. She's been assuring me that everything will be okay and this kind of incident will never happen again.

The siren of the police brings me out of my reverie. They came inside and they talked to the Chief security who briefed them on what happened. Some of them are taking pictures of my room and collecting evidence, I think.

One of them approached me. "Hello Ms. McGregor. I am officer Turner. Can you tell me what happened here?" He asked, and I shaked my head no, still trembling. "Okay. The Captain will be here soon."

He looked towards the employee beside me and she shrugged. "She hasn't said anything since we came here." She told him and he nodded then left to meet his colleagues.

"Do you want us to call your parents?" The Chief security asked me as he came over.

I freeze, then shook my head no, and he sighed. "Do you want to go to the hospital? You need to get checked."

I shook my head and he left with a sigh.

I am yet to call Mom and Dad. They still don't have any idea about what happened. The reason I haven't done that is because Dad would surely drag me back to Texas if he knows, and my mind is still debating whether I should let that happen or not.

I have worked hard to get accepted into this exchange program, and I don't want my dream to vanish into thin air because of one night.

"Would this not cause a problem for my neighbours?" I whispered to the female staff beside me. "If they find out about this, wouldn't it be a problem to the management?"

The lady shakes her head. "There's no one else staying on this floor, Ms. McGregor. Only you."

My eyes widen at the information. "What?" I whispered in disbelief. "But that's not possible. I'm sure this floor was fully occupied when I purchased it."

The lady sighed. "That's right Ms. McGregor. However, most of them don't really live here. They go overseas a lot."

My mouth drops open. I just can't help but think about the worst case scenario that could have happened if I had not called the operator in time. Even if I'd screamed at the top of my voice for help, no one would have been able to help.

I ball my fist on my thigh, feeling frustrated than ever. Before I could open my mouth to talk again, movement from the door caught my attention.

"Here he is." The officer that came earlier announced. "This is Captain Smith, Ms. McGregor."

A man appeared at the door, looking absolutely deadly. His chest heaves up and down, evidence that he's been in such a hurry. His jaw is clenched, showing how unhappy he is about the situation.

My breath catches in my throat because his features are absolutely familiar.

Tall, sandy brown hair, dark eyes, and broad shoulders. The man, dressed in his uniform, strides into my room. Each of his movements speaks authority.

He's the boss, the one in charge, and the one feared by people. He's the man whose name still sends electricity down my body every time it's mentioned.

He is Mason Smith.