All or Nothing Read Online Free PDF

disrupting the peace or for committing a drunken assault or something along similar lines. It wouldn’t be the first time, that’s for sure.
    Except that she hadn’t been out drinking the night before.
    Or in the last three months to be exact.
    Before she had awoken on this stinking bunk she had been sleeping in her bed peacefully. Plenty of overtime had been available at work recently, and as much as she hated her job, she needed the extra money: holidays don’t buy themselves. The only problem was that working long shifts required a lot of sleep to recover from them. Being able to sleep wasn’t an issue, but the extra rest made her feel lazy. And her job motivation went out the window, which meant she didn’t go to the gym as much, and her eating got out of hand. All because of her fucking job.
    So going from her peaceful bed and waking up somewhere completely different was a little unsettling. It scared her.
    And Kathryn Cox didn’t get scared.
    It wasn’t in her nature.
    She found that there was little in life that was worth getting scared about. She was sick of people whining about life and its problems: the issues and scenarios and politics that being a human being brought about. How people couldn’t cope with everyday issues such as money, jobs, relating to others, being a celebrity. How people lived within a certain spectrum, and if that spectrum became fragmented or distorted in any way, shape or form, they completely collapsed, and became useless.
    Fear ruled all.
    Kathryn believed the UK had operated this way for decades. When it’s sunny or raining, the country is fine, the people are used to it (the latter more so), but when it snows, the whole of Britain goes into meltdown. Everyone stops, just as a computer crashes or a heart dies when age has won its final battle. A comedian she admired once said, “If terrorists wanted to shut this country down, you would only have to take out one hundred celebrities and watch the country have a nervous breakdown.”
    She had to agree with the sentiment.
    Kathryn didn’t plan on sticking around, she wanted to get out of Britain anyway. A little home in France was what she wanted. She just had to get there first.
    Patience, in two years you will get there, she thought.
    Well, if you can get home again first, she reasoned.
    All these thoughts had been running around in her head when a loud clicking sound filled the room. It then disappeared as quickly and abruptly as it had rung out. Kathryn hadn't noticed anything about the room while she was sitting on the bunk. She'd been distracted, deep in thought, keeping herself calm. She didn’t scare easily, but then again, normal situations weren't scary. Being locked in a mysterious, cloying dark room? Kathryn imagined it to be every human’s personal nightmare, and if not, pretty close to it.
    Helplessness had almost taken over her thoughts now, but she realised she couldn’t let that happen.
    The click had come from somewhere. She thought about the door – there had to be one. After all, that had to be the route through which she’d arrived here in the first place. She stood up, intending to investigate the sound.
    And she suddenly fell to the ground in a heap, the breath knocked out of her. Her legs simply refused to support her weight. She lay on the cold hard floor and cursed the fact that she hadn’t been more careful. At first the thought of being a cripple for life panicked her. When rationality had set in, she realised that in order to get here, she must have been drugged, and her legs giving way was probably a side effect of the medication.
    Using all her strength, Kathryn pulled herself up off of the floor onto the bunk once more.
    Fifteen minutes later, when her legs were feeling better and she was angry for wasting precious time, she punched her bunk. The second time she tried to stand up, her legs had supported her. Breathing out, she slid her hands down them to make sure they were okay, that she was