The music was hard, and so was the liqueur. It ran through her veins like the blood that kept her alive. Her head pounded; a combination of the amount of alcohol she had consumed, and the music on the dance floor. Sweat was dripping down her face, and in normal circumstances, she would have been quite a put off. But not now. Not tonight. Men rubbed themselves against her, pleased with her dancing, her body, her sparkling eyes.
Sara returned to the bar, and ordered another drink. Vodka, double shot. It would be straight to her head, she knew.
And that made her feel proud, even though she didn't know why.
She downed the drink quickly. It burned her throat, and she coughed a bit. The bartender looked at her, concerned.
"You okay?"
She nodded. "I'm fine."
"No, she's not," Came a firm voice from behind her. She recognized that voice. That strong accent that haunted her dreams and her reality. Nick Stokes placed his hand on Sara's shoulder, and turned her around to face him, his dark eyes intense.
"I think you've had enough," he told her, firmly, but calmly. Sara squinted her eyes at him.
"I think you need to mind your own business," she said, equally as calm. She stumbled as she pushed past him, intending on heading back onto the dance floor, but Nick's strong body stopped her.
"You're my friend," he said, "And that makes you my business. At least in part," he added. She smirked.
"I didn't ask you to rescue me, Nick," She breathed. His hand came up to cup her shoulder again.
"I know you're angry at me," he said, anger seeping into his voice. "But that is no excuse to do what you've been doing! You're suffering!"
"Can't you just leave me the hell alone?" Sara yelled, pushing him away again. "I am NONE of your business," she repeated. "I'm not Claire," she added to herself.
Nick moved closer. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," she whispered, and managed once again to push past him, this time making it to the dance floor. A man grabbed her, and pushed his body against her, letting out a groan. She moved against him, enjoying this power.
He started to kiss her neck, and that's when she saw Nick again, his jaw set. He pushed the other man away, and grabbed her arm.
"You're going home!" He announced. "And I'm taking you."
"No!" Sara screamed. She pushed him, hard, and he fell backwards, catching himself before he fell.
"Jesus Christ, Sara!" He yelled back. "I just want to look after you! You're not well!"
"I'm well enough to know I don't want anything to do with you!" She said, her voice blank. "So just leave me alone!"
The other man came forwards again, placing his hands on Sara's hips, kissing her neck. Nick bit his lip, torn. He'd tried to help her. But she was self-destructing. There was nothing he could do anymore.
"Fine, Sar," he whispered. She didn't hear him, and didn't acknowledge as he left the club.
He grabbed her hand, and led her outside. The cold air hit her, and she shivered. Her new companion, Ben, pushed himself against her to keep her warm as he pulled a cell phone out of his pocket to call for a cab.
"Sara..."
She turned, and saw Nick again, leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for her. She frowned, her body swaying. Her head still pounded, and she leaned closer into Ben, ignoring Nick.
He came forward however.
"Hey you!" Nick called out, obviously to Ben. "I'm going to take her home."
Ben frowned. "Like hell you are. I'm taking her home with me."
"She's drunk, you low life!" Nick spat, advancing. "What kind of prick takes advantage of a woman like that!"
Ben shrugged, his hand coming to rest on Sara's bare hip. "She knows what she wants," he mumbled, and leant down, kissing her neck, his hand caressing circles on her hip.
Out of nowhere, Sara saw Nick's fist fly through the air, and hit Ben on the side of his face. She gasped, and jumped backwards.
"Nick!" She yelled, her voice slurring. "What the hell are you doing?"
"He's not gonna take advantage of you!" Nick hissed, nursing his fist.
"Like you did?" Sara retorted. "You had no issue with fucking me when I was drunk!"
Ben rubbed his head, leaning against the wall. Sara ignored him, her attention focused on Nick.
"I care about you," Nick told her honestly, and she laughed.
"Yeah, thats why you ignored me for weeks," she whispered. "Thats why you fucked me while you had a girlfriend. Wasn't she putting out that night?" She asked, her voice venomous.
"Sara!" Nick said, agitated. "I'm taking you home! You're in no fit state right now."
Ben came forward again, acknowledging that the taxi had arrived. She turned her face to him, and started to walk away from Nick.
"I said you're not taking her!" Nick yelled out. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him.
Ben pulled a gun out of his pocket, and pointed it at Nick.
"You let her go," he said. "Right now. Or I'll fucking blow you're head off."
Nick was lost. Torn. He either let her go, and she'd leave with this nutcase. Or he continued to hold her, and he died.
Reluctantly, he let her go. He cared more about himself that her.
"Goodnight Princess," he whispered softly, releasing her.
Without a word, she turned, and walked in Ben's arms, and into the waiting taxi. Nick watched as it pulled away from the curb, his head hung in defeat and shame.
At least he'd tried.
He got in his car and drove home to Claire, who was waiting for him.
Sara was never seen again.