I was sent to capture the CIA's most wanted fugitive.
But things took a tragic turn,
My entire team was murdered before my eyes, and I was kidnapped by said fugitive.
It seemed like my government had forgotten me and I became a puppet for the fugi...
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The sterile scent of antiseptic invades my senses as I slowly emerge from a foggy haze. My eyes flutter open, the harsh fluorescent lights above blinding me momentarily. I blink rapidly, trying to focus. The ceiling tiles are unfamiliar, and the steady beep of a heart monitor fills the air.
My body feels heavy, each limb weighed down as if anchored to the bed. Panic bubbles up in my chest, but I force myself to take slow, deep breaths. As I do, fragments of memories begin to surface, disjointed and fleeting.
The backyard. It was dark, shadows creeping up the walls as I turned the corner. My heart races as I remember the figure, those weird eyes darting around..
We fought. I recall the adrenaline, the desperate struggle to subdue him. But he was stronger, more desperate. The fight was brutal, a blur of punches and kicks.
Pity? His grip on my throat loosened as I kicked at him and he pushed me away, sending me crashing into the wall. I remember the cold, rough texture of the bricks against my head and back and the sensation of falling, my consciousness slowly slipping away.
Why did he spare me? The question echoes in my mind as I lie here, the beeping of the heart monitor grounding me in the present. My throat is dry, and I struggle to swallow. Slowly, I turn my head, the effort exhausting, and see the IV drip attached to my arm, the medical equipment surrounding me.
I'm alive. For some reason, he let me live. The realization brings a rush of emotions-relief, confusion, and a gnawing fear. I have to find out why. But for now, I close my eyes, letting the exhaustion pull me back under. I'll need my strength to face whatever comes next.
And that might just be Director Wilcox,
And my mom.
"Jesus Christ, Laura." She practically cries out. "I called them," she gestures to Director Wilcox and Agent Wright. "I woke up in the middle of the night and you were just gone-"
"I'm fine, Mom."
"Laura Vittoria Hill." She just called me my full name. She's angry. She turns to Director Wilcox who gives her a solemn look.
"We got to her in time, she's injured, but she will recover." Director Wilcox practically says through his teeth. He's also angry. Great, everyone is angry. Isn't that wonderful?
"I'll go get you some breakfast," now she's I'm panic mode.
"Mom-"
"Laura, just don't." She states firmly and she makes her way out of the room.
I chew on my bottom lip and it hurts. Just how much did I break? So much for special combat training.
"Wanna explain why you were at a crime scene in the middle of the night?" Director Wilcox asks in that no nonsense tone of his.
"I was studying my theories, there was something we missed so I went back-" I pause. "To check, as an agent, with my badge and ID and everything."
"In the middle of the night and without a partner?" Director Wilcox continues. "Agent Hill I've had so many thoughts since you were rushed in here looking half dead."
