Manhunt

Chapter 35

Shit. Her stupidity had risen to a new level.

After she'd decided that it would've been best to grab a few towels before she'd stripped, after she'd taken a bath, Julia willed herself to calm down. Perhaps the towel situation wasn't the only thing that she was freaking out about. The decision to go to Matthew was foolish and unproductive. Her tracker was busted, Samil was in the same building as her, and an incredibly perverted enemy was within 10 feet of the room she was currently occupying.

She should've listened to Caroline and Sydney.

Shaking her head to get rid of the negative thoughts, she thought back as to why she'd done it. She'd been tired—so tired—of running and wondering when Matthew would attempt to destroy the people she loved and cared for. She was the stupid girl that probably wanted to be the hero, only to end up in a mess that quickened her death. She'd hoped that what she'd done wasn't a waste, only to find her transmitter broken and utterly useless.

What she'd been truly scared of was her friends getting hurt. As defenseless creatures, they hadn't deserved to get dragged into this. Yet she was selfish and couldn't bring herself to manipulate their memories. Growing chilly despite the dense steam, she made sure the door was locked before taking a deep breath.

"Matthew," Her voice was a whisper and she rushed herself to clear her throat. "Matt—"

"I heard you the first time." He spoke through the door, nearly frightening her by how close he was to it. "What is it?"

She bit her lip before looking around the bathroom desperately, searching through cabinets and drawers before nearly weeping at her misfortune. Why the heck weren't there any towels in a stupid bathroom?

"Where are the towels?" A few seconds of silence met her ears before his voice rang.

"Not in the bathroom."

"I can see that," she almost growled before calming herself down. "Can you pass me one?" He didn't reply to her, and she'd started to believe that he would leave her standing there to dry for an hour before a soft knock echoed from the door.

"Here," he muttered, prompting Julia to cautiously bring her hand to unlock the door. "I'm not going to do anything, so hurry up and open the damn door." Twisting the knob, she opened the door a crack and peeked out. Her eyes met his chest, and then slowly moved up to his eyes. Once making eye contact, he thrusted his hand further to the opening, a fluffy white towel clenched by his large hands. She tried to ignore the blush that seemed to form from her shame.

"Thanks." She barely murmured before practically snatching the towel and slamming the door. Her hand flicked the lock upright. Sighing, she realized how rude she must've seemed. "Sorry."

Quickly drying herself off, Julia stared at her clothes that laid in a heap. She slipped them back on, noting to look for a possible change of clean underwear and to use whatever clothes hung in the closet. Once she finished tying on her boots, Julia studied the tiled floor for a long time.

When her frustration and anxiety became overwhelming, she brought her leg up and smashed the heel down a nearby chair. It gave away from the weight and force she created, making a loud crash. She followed it with a hardly muffled scream of exasperation, hating herself in ways she hadn't before. She brought her face into her hands and breathed deeply, forcing down the hyperventilation. An agent had to stay calm and clear minded—something that she wasn't at the moment.

She needed to do something—needed to think of something to get her out of this. She only had a knife, which wouldn't get her anywhere, and she needed something more. Her head started to throb again, and she groaned at the terrible timing as she pondered deeply about her options. As she did so, her eyes travelled to her boots as she sat on the floor, noticing a tread loosening on the side. Her mind raced as memories came back to her, and she straightened herself out.