Firstlife Read Online Free PDF

it’s survival of the fittest.
    Guess Myriad and I agree on something. Might Equals Right.
    â€œThanks for the warning,” I say, my stomach beginning to churn. I’m not ready for another battle. Not one of this magnitude. I’m not strong enough.
    Doesn’t matter. I have to find a way.
    She scowls at me. “I didn’t do it for you. The more prepared you are, the better your chances of killing two more of Vans’s men.”
    Bloodthirsty girl. As always. “Also the better my chances of spending another thirty days in the pit, giving you a chance to strike at Bow without my interference, eh.” The pit is a frigid hole in the basement where the only source of water is a rusty tap, and a bucket is the only piece of furniture.
    â€œHey. It’s a small price to pay.”
    â€œOf course you’d think so. You’ve never spent any time down there.”
    â€œNot for lack of trying!”
    I can’t argue with that. I’ve often wondered why she’s singular to Vans. Is she sleeping with him?
    I’ve heard rumors about girls earning special privileges with their bodies. I’ve also heard about girls being threatened with harsher punishments if they refuse. Even the thought fills me with rage.
    From time to time, a guard has propositioned me. I said no, flat out, every time. I’ve never had sex and my first time won’t be a freaking business transaction. In my old life, some of my friends had often hit-it-and-quit-it, and it hadn’t taken me long to notice most grumbled with disappointment while only a rare few sighed dreamily.
    The loss of my virginity is a memory I’m going to carry into my Secondlife and dang it, I’m going to be one of the ones who sighs dreamily.
    â€œYou boning the boss?” I ask her.
    Color blooms in her cheeks. Embarrassment? Shame? Both? She jumps up and snarls at me. “Oh, go to Many Ends, dreg!”
    â€œAnd leave these luxurious accommodations? Nah.”
    She flounces off and chooses a new seat.
    I remain on a razor’s edge of calm through therapy...my different classes...lunch...and finally dinner. No one strikes at me, but all the guards are a little too nice . They smile every time I pass. They ask if I need help with anything.
    That night, after Bow and I are locked in our cell, our lights out, I rush to cover the camera with a sheet—just in case—and gather my stash of shivs made from spoons and toothbrushes, hidden behind a stone in the wall.
    No one tells me to remove the sheet, a sign in and of itself. The guards don’t want anyone to record what’s going to happen, and they can blame me for the lack of feed, maybe even claim I hurt myself in an attempt to incriminate them. Not that they’d get into trouble for hurting me.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Bow demands.
    I explain the situation. She waves a hand through the air, unconcerned.
    â€œYou won’t need those,” she says. “I’ve got this. You can sit back and simply enjoy the show.”
    As if.
    I move to the side of the door, taking a sentry position. With a sigh, Bow does the same.
    One hour ticks into another, but I remain in place. I’ve done this kind of vigil before, during the realm riots that occurred in my front yard.
    My dad is a senator in the House of Myriad, responsible for ensuring Myriad-friendly laws are passed and Troika-friendly laws aren’t.
    Sometimes when a hot-button issue arose—like Myriad’s desire to supersede the human government—Troikan protesters congregated on our lawn, threw rotten food at our doors and windows and screamed vitriol. I just had to wait for it to end.
    The stress is the biggest obstacle. My limbs shake. My stomach twists. Sweat drips down my spine. At least I’m not cowering.
    I’ll never cower again.
    â€œYou sure they’re coming tonight?” Bow asks, as blasé as ever.
    â€œYes. No. I don’t know.”