8.

**CHAPTER EIGHT.**

I don’t need to be told twice. Grabbing a tray, I pile it with food like a starved animal and top it off with a glass of orange juice. I haven’t had a proper meal in...well, six years or more. A long time. The other inmates haven’t shown up yet, so I take advantage of the quiet moment, finding a spot by the window that gives me a view of another concrete wall. Lovely.

As I dig into my fat breakfast, Caitlyn sits across from me, sipping what I assume is her first cup of coffee this morning. She watches me eat with an unreadable expression, her eyes sharp but not unfriendly.

“Not eating?” I ask her as I bite into my pancake. It feels like I'm eating the clouds, that's how fluffy they are.

“I’m not a breakfast person,” she replies.

I chew very fast. “Your loss.”

“How’s the food?”

“Heaven,” I say through a mouthful of eggs.

She leans back, her face shifting to something more serious. “Are you nervous, Ophelia? About all this? Training starts today, but once it's over, you'll be in Xyriel. There’s no going back.”

I swallow, trying to ignore the knot forming in my stomach. “It’s better than sitting in a cell, counting down the days to death. Right?”

“I suppose so,” she says softly. “You’ll be fine. You’ve survived worse.”

I glance up at her, realizing she’s referring to my time in prison.

Before I can respond, the door to the cafeteria slides open, and a few more people walk in—other personal survival coaches and the ex-inmates…I guess I'll just call them recruits. I glance at them out of the corner of my eye, sizing them up. Of course, Xyriel is the first person I notice. He's alone, not even with his survival coach. He stands alone at the buffet, stacking his tray with just pancakes—no eggs, no bacon, just a mountain of syrup-drenched carbs. He sits by the far corner, away from everyone else, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“Seems like someone’s already caught your interest,” Caitlyn says, raising an eyebrow as she sips her coffee.

I nearly choke on my orange juice. “Not even close. I just think he’s crazy. He speaks like one. Also look at that stack on his tray—no protein. Who does that?”

“Um, Xyriel,” Caitlyn chuckles, drifting her gaze to him for a while. She takes another sip of her coffee as her eyes rest on me. “That is his name.”

“I know that already,” I admit.

“No records on his family. No background to trace. It’s like he popped into existence the day of his crime.”

I narrow my eyes. “So, he’s basically a ghost?”

“Bingo,” she says, raising her coffee cup like we’re making a toast. “At least, not until the crime.”

“Which is?”

“Now, Ophelia, you won't want me going around gossiping about the crime you committed right?”

I shrug. “I'm not embarrassed about it. I killed a man because he deserved it, and if I was given the chance I'd kill him over and over and over again,” I say as I stab my fork into my pancake continuously, venom dripping down my tongue and Caitlyn looks at me with a blank stare, her smile disappearing.

One thing I hate talking about is my past, but one thing I will never regret is the fact that I killed a man. After all, he deserved it. He was the one who made my life a living hell.

“I don't need to know what Xyriel did anyways,” I make it clear to her as I resume eating my breakfast. “He’s probably just like the rest of us—screwed up but trying to survive.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Ophelia, but psychologists reports say he's schizophrenic,” Caitlyn says, dropping her empty coffee cup on the table. “Whatever he did, it was for the fun of it, and not because he was trying to survive. I still don't know why Dr. Alericap insists he comes along on this mission when he's clearly a walking landmine with multiple switches.”

I frown, confused. But at least I finally have an explanation for his weird words during our first and hopefully the last conversation. “A walking landmine? What do you mean? He's got anger issues and could easily snap?”

Caitlyn shrugs as she rises up from her seat. “Finish your breakfast. I need to use the bathroom. Once I'm back we’ll meet the others in the training room in twenty minutes.”

I nod, watching her leave the cafeteria with her usual brisk, no-nonsense pace. With her gone, I steal another glance at Xyriel. He’s barely touched his food, but his eyes flick up and, for a split second, meet mine. There’s something unreadable in his gaze—something that makes me uneasy, yet curious. I can’t put my finger on it.

I shake it off and focus back on my half-eaten plate. But even as I try to push thoughts of him away, I know one thing for certain.

Xyriel is going to be trouble.