(Kevin Barnes' image at the top🔝)

Kevin narrowed his eyes at her. "You're different from the others."

She tilted her head slightly. "Oh?"

He huffed, crossing his arms. "Yeah. You don't make that weird face when we play the games."

That caught her interest. "Weird face?"

Kevin rolled his eyes. "You know. That creepy look. The other doctors-they stare at us like we're toys or something. You don't do that."

Yazmina smirked, leaning down just slightly. "And what kind of look do I have, then?"

Kevin hesitated. His face flushed just a little, and he looked away, scowling. "...Dunno. Just not creepy."

She chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Kevin frowned deeper, clearly irritated that she wasn't reacting the way he expected. He had approached her with confidence, yet somehow, she was the one in control of this conversation.

Before he could say more, a small tug at Yazmina's sleeve drew his attention.

She turned, finding the curly-haired girl looking up at her.

"Can you braid my hair?" the girl asked softly.

Yazmina blinked, caught off guard by the request. "Your hair?"

The girl nodded, absently running a small hand through her tight curls. "You have pretty hair, so you must be good at braiding."

Kevin stiffened. Pretty hair?

That was an understatement.

Yazmina's hair wasn't just pretty-it was like silk, flowing and smooth, almost unnaturally perfect. It fell in soft waves, catching the dim light of the facility in a way that made it seem like it belonged in some fairytale, not this place.

Kevin scowled, irritated by the thought.

Yazmina arched a brow, then let out a short breath. Of all the things this child could ask for.

She crouched slightly, reaching out to brush a curl between her fingers. "I suppose I could try," she said with mock reluctance.

The girl grinned, stepping a little closer. "Okay!"

Kevin's eyes darkened slightly. "Why are you asking her?"

The girl turned to him, confused. "Huh?"

Kevin's frown deepened. "You don't even know her."

The girl simply tilted her head. "Neither do you."

Kevin tensed. He looked back at Yazmina, his fingers twitching again.

Before she could tease him, he suddenly blurted out, "She's mine."

Yazmina blinked. "Oh?"

Kevin's face burned, but he didn't back down. "I mean-I saw her first. You can't just take her."

The girl pouted. "I'm not taking her. I just wanted my hair braided."

Kevin scowled. "Well, too bad. She doesn't have time for that."

Yazmina chuckled. "Oh, I don't?"

Kevin shot her a glare, but she could see his ears turning red again. "No."

She found his childish possessiveness amusing. Was he even aware of what he was doing?

Before she could press him further, the girl tugged at her sleeve again. "Please? Just one braid?"

Yazmina sighed dramatically. "Fine, but only one."

Kevin looked genuinely offended. "Hey!"

Yazmina smirked, but ignored him as she gently gathered the girl's curls, weaving them carefully between her fingers.

Kevin huffed, looking away, but he kept glancing back-watching, pouting.

As Yazmina tied the braid at the end, she asked, "So, what's your name?"

The girl hesitated, then smiled up at her.

"Misty."

Yazmina hummed. "Misty. It's pretty."

Misty beamed.

Kevin, still sulking, grumbled under his breath, "It's a dumb name."

Misty stuck her tongue out at him. "You're just mad 'cause she braided my hair and not yours."

Kevin turned red. "Shut up! I don't want some dumb braid!"

Yazmina smirked. "Oh? But I thought you wanted my attention?"

Kevin's mouth opened-then snapped shut. He clenched his fists, clearly fighting the urge to argue, before turning away.

"Whatever," he muttered. "I don't care."

But Yazmina could tell-he did.

As they made their way to Home Sweet Home, Kevin walked close to her, not saying a word, but ensuring he was always in her line of sight.

Misty, on the other hand, stayed near her side, now completely attached.

And Yazmina?

She had to admit...

This was fun.

---

Yazmina lingered in Playcare for a while, her presence unnoticed by most. Doctor Crane had yet to summon her to the laboratory, and without his approval, she couldn't begin her experiments with the poppy gas. A minor inconvenience.

For now, she had time to herself.

With nothing else to do, she returned to her dormitory, letting the sterile quiet of the hallways settle around her. It was a dull routine-wake, work, observe, repeat-but lately, something in the air felt different. Tense. As if the facility itself was holding its breath.

She changed into something more comfortable, brushing out her long, silky hair as she sat before the mirror. The artificial lighting cast a soft glow on her flawless skin, making her look almost unreal-delicate, untouchable. A woman who, at a glance, seemed incapable of even shattering glass.

A bitter smirk played on her lips.

If only they knew.

She set the brush down, her eyes flicking toward her desk. The poppy gas research was progressing, but Crane was frustratingly cautious. He wouldn't let her proceed without his supervision, and she hated waiting.

Something about tonight felt off. She couldn't place it, but the unease settled in her stomach, refusing to leave.

Meanwhile, across the facility, Misty sat in Doctor Greyber's office, swinging her legs as she listened to the woman's gentle, reassuring voice.

"You're very special, Misty," Greyber said with a warm smile. "We've chosen you for something important."

Misty's amber eyes brightened. "Important?"

Greyber nodded. "Yes. You're going on a little trip, just for a while. And when you come back, you'll be even stronger."

Excitement bubbled in Misty's chest. No one had ever called her special before. Maybe this meant she was finally one of the best? Maybe Doctor Yazmina would be proud of her!

But the excitement didn't last.

The moment she was led away from Playcare, down the cold, sterile hallways of the facility, something felt wrong. The doctors kept smiling, kept telling her everything was fine, but their eyes held something she didn't understand.

Then the pain started.

It was everywhere-burning, twisting, tearing. Something inside her was being taken away. She wanted to scream, but her throat was dry. She wanted to run, but she couldn't move.

A figure loomed over her, shadowed against the harsh white light. His voice was calm. Cold. Detached.

"She's responding well. Increase the dosage. I want to see how far we can push her."

Doctor Harley Sawyer.

His gloved hands adjusted the controls, his gaze fixed on the monitors with quiet fascination. He was watching everything-every involuntary twitch, every strained breath.

"This one shows promise," he mused. "Let's begin the next phase."

Misty's vision blurred. Her body no longer felt like her own. Something was shifting beneath her skin, stretching, expanding.

It hurts.

It hurts so much.

Back in her dormitory, Yazmina exhaled, rubbing her temple.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

She never knew this would be the last time she would see Misty.

Not as she was, anyway.