THE MISSING LINK ✧ GLOSS HUNGER GAMES

1 | NOT EXACTLY A WINTER WONDERLAND

My face is numb.

Not the kind of numb that tingles. This is deeper — worse. It's like ice has slipped under my skin and hollowed me out from the inside. There's no pain. No warmth. My mind has lost control again, and all that's left is the void.

My eyes are sealed shut, and the simple act of opening my jaw is beyond me. I can't feel my cheeks. My hands. My lips. They're all gone.

The world is black.

My mind is blank.

I have no thoughts, no memories — only this new horrifying reality that I can't escape, no matter how desperately I want to.

The image of that boy latches onto my mind. His eyes. His skin. His hair.

His chest.

I want it to go away. I want to remember something that isn't so graphic. But nothing comes, and the boy's hollow cavity molds into my mind.

I want to sleep. Forever. But my body refuses to give me that peace.

My limbs slowly, painfully, begin to wake. Pins and needles stab through me until I finally become conscious again — and I can't breathe.

I can't breathe?

My entire body convulses. The top half of me jerks off the ground like it's been yanked by a wire, only to collapse seconds later in a violent fit of coughs. I bend over, hacking so hard I'm shocked it's only blood coming out of my mouth.

I continue for what feels like a lifetime. My throat burns, and the rest of my body is weak. I'm amazed my arms are still holding me up.

When the coughing stops, I finally look around.

It's bright.

At first, I think my eyes are playing tricks on me. But no. The brightness never fades, and it's surrounding me completely.

Snow.

Endless, untouched snow.

A thick blanket covers the ground, stretching in every direction for miles. Flurries drift from a colorless sky, soft and constant, and I can't help but think of how beautiful it all is.

Where the hell am I?

There are trees in the distance — evergreens with snow dusting their needles. They're climbing the mountain opposite me that has its head in the clouds. And there's a river, frozen over, that cuts through the landscape. It looks so close, but I know my eyes are deceiving me. It might be a day's walk away.

I force myself to stand. My legs shake beneath me, but they hold. I take a step, and my boot sinks an inch into the powder. My eyes scan the area around me.

White snow. White sky. White river. White capped trees and mountains. My eyes start to burn from the glare.

So, this is it.

This is the place where all of those children died.

I can't wrap my mind around it. How can something so beautiful, so peaceful, hold so much horror?

But as I turn, spinning around to take in the rest of the scenery, I start to believe it. No birds sing. No footprints from any companions. Just the soft whistle of the wind blowing into my ears.

There's something so... haunting about this place. Everything is too white, too neat.

It's too lonely. Too dead.

I glance down at myself.

Whoever dressed me must have a sick sense of humor.

My coat is green. Not a soft, calming shade or a natural forest tone. It's loud. And disgusting. And reminiscent of something I would blow out of my nose. My pants are the same shade, and I would give anything to tear them off, but I know I'd freeze to death if I did.

Only my boots offer me mercy. They're charcoal black. Thick, sturdy, practical. They were clearly built for this type of weather, and I'm grateful for that.

I jam my numb hands into my coat pockets, and warmth floods in as I rub my fingers together. Just as my fingers start to regain feeling, my left hand knocks against something soft and round. My fingers wrap around it.

I furrow my brows and pull the three small spheres out of my pocket.

Berries.

Smooth. Crimson. Familiar.

I stare at them like they might explode. They don't belong in this white wasteland.

A cold knife twists through my gut, and everything inside me screams not to trust them. Not now. Not ever.

I immediately let the three berries fall to the ground and crush them under my boot. A soft squelch. A smear of red spreads beneath my boot like a warning.

My mind claws at a memory, maybe a glimpse of why I shouldn't trust these berries — but nothing comes.

And then my stomach growls. A wave of hunger rushes over me, but I still kick snow over the berries. Maybe I'll find something else. Maybe I won't. Dying of starvation sounds a lot more comforting than how the boy with no chest passed.

My head snaps around at the memory of him, looking for anyone, anything, around me.

Nothing. There's nothing. No person, no animal.

I hear something howling, but it's far away. Maybe it's the wind. Maybe it's all in my head.

So how did that boy lose his heart?

How did that girl get that gash?

I take a step and flinch. Something jabs my ankle. I bend down, slowly digging my hand into my boot. My fingers grab onto something hard and pull it out of my sock.

It's a knife.

Why do I have a knife?

Why the fuck do I have a knife?

It's small and rusty, and I don't want to know why it is covered in blood. My mind yells at me to throw it on the ground and bury it in the snow just like I did with the berries. But before I do, a beeping rings through the air, cutting through the silence. Without thinking, I pocket the knife and head in the direction of the sound.

It's a parachute.

A small package lands softly in the snow, and I don't move at first — I just watch. It doesn't explode. It doesn't catch fire. So, I walk up to it and pick it up, brushing off the thin layer of frost on top.

There's a note.

Don't trust anyone and stay alive. – G.

G.

Who the hell is G?

I glance up at the sky, still holding the package. There's nothing but endless white and shifting gray.

No drone. No aircraft. No sign of life.

There's just the sky.

So where could this package have come from?

And then, suddenly, everything clicks.

"God?"