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Bridgette thought of her life in milestones. Milestones like her bat mitzvah, or her upcoming high school graduation. The day she’d start college, or start graduate school, or become an independent adult. She’d mapped out her whole life, and worked hard to stay on the path she’d made for herself.

So far, things had gone smoothly: she was graduating in a month, and next fall she’d start studying biochemistry at UC Berkeley. All her hard work in high school was paying off, and soon that chapter of her life would come to a close. She was so close, but life had decided to throw her off course, disrupt her whole plan with one obstacle.

And that obstacle was Survival of the Fittest.

G003, Bridgette Sommerfeld: START

To say Bridgette was panicking would be a severe understatement. She’d almost had a heart attack when she woke up strapped to an electric chair. After a split second of sheer panic, she discovered that only her legs were actually strapped in. She’d quickly undone them and collapsed on the floor. It was just one of the terrorist’s cruel jokes; more salt in the wound.

Bridgette was surprised that she wasn’t crying. Instead, she was hyperventilating. It couldn’t be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This was supposed to be a fun field trip, a good opportunity to unwind and enjoy a day at the museum. But instead, they’d been kidnapped by the world’s most infamous terrorist group to become victims of one of the most atrocious acts of terror of the century: Survival of the Fittest.

Her first instinct was to sink into despair, to curl up in a ball and cry until someone came along and killed her. But deep down, she felt like she was better than this. She paused and took a deep breath. That type of thinking would get her killed, and while Bridgette didn’t know much about anything anymore, she knew one thing: she didn’t want to die. If she wanted to live, she’d have to pull herself together. Think clearly. If she could keep her wits about her, she was bound to last longer than those who simply gave up. And maybe she could outsmart those who chose to survive through senseless acts of violence. Bridgette thought she was capable of that.

Or at least, she liked to think she was.

She took a moment to steady her breath, breathing in and out. Her heart was still pounding, but she decided to shake it off.

She turned back to the electric chair. A bag had been placed neatly beside it, printed with her name and a number: G003. Bridgette wasted no time in crawling over and unzipping it.

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State of Shock · Electroshock Therapy