Author's note: This story has been edited. I would recommend reading from the beginning as plot points and storylines have been changed for a better flow.
Wondering the empty streets of the city that never sleeps. Malcolm was searching for just that...
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Stirring in his sleep Malcolm’s eyes snap open, taking in a deep breath before sighing out an air of relief. Resting back into the soft blankets groaning from the pounding migraine thanks to broken sleep. Watching the fading images of his father’s maniacal grin, his mother scolding him, and the folded body of the unknown woman in the box. Quickly retreating into the far corners of his subconscious. Taking another deep and calming breath through his nose, his face immediately scrunches up from a pungent odor of…
Ethyl Acetate?
Trying to adjust to the blinding rays of the sun that assaulted his vision. Vision clearing just enough unveiling to him a young girl. She had to be about five, seven, maybe three, he was never really good at guessing the age of small children. She hummed an unfamiliar tune, eyes focused, with brows furrowed in determination allowing the Profiler to follow her line of sight to his hand. Coating what looked to be the final nail to his array of gold and glitter. Inspecting her work capping her bottle of polish blowing gently onto his extended fingers.
“Oops.” She sounds seeing that her canvas was now awake. Well….mostly awake.
“Are you a hallucination?” Malcolm breathes with a face of horror which didn’t help that the small girl giggled. Slipping off and over the edge of the bed out of his line of sight. She pokes her head up to just her eyes. Big brown windows filled with curiosity and mischief. “My name’s-” she whispers just enough for him to hear the tail end of it.
“GRACE!” a voice calls just beyond the closed door.
Wait, I don’t have any doors. Let alone walls in my loft. It was comforting. Knowing there was nowhere to hide for an unbeknownst burglar.
He could feel his blood pressure spike with anxiety not knowing what was behind the four walls that boxed him in.
His eyes darted about the room that was not his own. The soft blanket he was cuddling, a patchwork quilt he never owned.
Where the hell am I ?!?
Having no memory of last night. The door suddenly opens entering a young man. Stepping over the threshold locking eyes with his now wide awake house guest. The stranger quickly shifts his focus to the child. Marching over and lifting her into his arms.
“What did I say about snooping?” He scolds. The question is rhetorical.
“The door was open.” She claims.
“Sure it was.” He groans sarcastically glancing at her handiwork. “Not bad.” He had to admit after her various attempts on himself. “Go on and eat your breakfast before it gets cold.” He instructs placing her feet onto the floor again giving her butt a spank as she scampers away. Giggling to herself for the clean getaway. Straightening his shirt while running his hands through his long hair.
