Misted (Team Zero #5) by Rina Kent

My best bet is to pretend I’m vomiting against the wall, use the hard surface to fix the knife and then stab myself in the heart. The force will certainly end me.

The door swings open. I tense but drop my hand to my side. They couldn’t have caught a glimpse of the knife when I’ve been hiding it so well.

A guard shoves a girl inside and she falls on all fours. Her wild mane of deep red hair camouflages her face. Small, pale hands clutch the floor for balance. A short red dress covers her slim shape and is torn at the bottom.

A new addition.

They’re the ones who die first.

Those of us who have been here for some time developed resistance to Omega. The new ones are barely touched with the drug before their already frail bodies fail them.

My gaze strays to the guard, and thankfully, he doesn’t seem to be here for me. I’m about to release a sigh of relief when I make out who brought the new girl.

A scar runs diagonally along his military cut head to the side of his ear. His piercing, brown eyes scan the space with unrestrained malice.

Nero.

Chief guard in The Pit, one of the founders, and the closest guard to Hades, the owner of this hell.

All kids lower their heads. The whimpering stops and the boy who was punching freezes. That’s the type of effect Nero has here. Everyone, me included, was tortured at his hands. He said it’s to build our stamina in case we were captured and tortured.

Truth is, he smiled like a maniac during all the torture sessions, taking sick pleasure whenever he drew our blood.

Nero stands there for a second too long and doesn’t acknowledge any of us. His eyes zero on the new girl’s skinny arse as she tries to stand up.

My fists clench at the unmistakable heat in his sadistic gaze. Something in my gut tells me that look is wrong. So fucking wrong.

Wait.

Am I angry on her behalf? Did I just… feel?

It's a funny, almost surreal sensation to have something puncture the numbness.

Nero continues checking the girl out, not bothering to hide the disgusting stare. After what seems like forever, he leaves and slams the door shut. As if someone hit play, the chaos from earlier returns. The muffled whimpers, the loud punching, and the crying.

No one pays the new girl attention. I shouldn’t either. My main concern is finishing it all today before we’re taken to our cells.

Yet, I can’t stop looking at her. She stands up on trembling feet. It probably hasn’t been long since she had her first Omega shot. The new ones are kept separate until they can at least stand.

She’s so skinny, the bones in her collarbone protrude like a case of starvation. Dirt smudges her hands and her half-torn dress. They’ll make her change into bland white trousers and a T-shirt like the rest of us.

That is, if she doesn’t fall and die.

Leaves and tendrils entangle in her deep, flame-like hair as if she were running — or living — in a forest. The girl pushes rebel strands off her smeared face. Everything about her is no different from the corpses in the room, but unlike us, her eyes are… alive. The soft hazel colour has brown and green flecks like forest and earth. They brighten and perk up as she studies her surroundings.

Since she’s shaking all over, she must’ve had her Omega dose, so what is she being all lively for? Why does she appear as if this place doesn’t faze her?

It pisses me off.

For the first time in months – or maybe years – this unknown redhead surged feelings inside me. First, anger for her, then anger at her. I want to jam my knife in her throat and watch as life washes away from her disturbingly expressive eyes. How dare she make me feel when I’m resigned to finish it all?

Her eyes meet mine, and she freezes, stopping her mysterious searching around to stare at me. The other kids avoid me — or I avoid them. I’m always the loner huddled in the corner whom no one wants to stir.

That’s not the case with the skinny redhead.

She strides towards me. I shoot her my harsh glare. It always worked to shoo the others without me having to say a word.

For the first time, my glaring tactic fails and the girl flops right beside me – unable to stand due to the shaking.

This close, she smells of natural pine and the stench of antiseptic that comes with every Omega dose. Did The Pit really catch her in a forest?

“Hi, I’m Mist.” She thrusts her trembling, small hand in my face. “I mean, it’s not my real name but it’s the only name I remember since I got here.”

I ignore her and focus back on my plan. If I’m going to stab myself, now is the time to do it. However, I need to avoid stirring any type of attention.

The girl’s voice cuts off my thoughts. “Do you have a name?”

No answer. I’d get up and leave, but this is my spot. She’s the intruder and needs to be gone.

Still sitting beside me, she tilts her head, so it’s right in front of my face. This close, she couldn’t look older than ten. A few freckles scatter on either of her cheeks like tiny sparkles or stars in a distant galaxy.

And her eyes. Bloody hell. They’re still too alive. Too out of this place. I don’t remember the last time I met such a lively gaze here.

They all perished and their bright eyes are now buried under the dirt.

She smiles in a carefree, child-like way. I have this urge to capture that smile, imprison it, and stare at it whenever the nothingness swallows me.