When they made the bargain, they knew they risked death. But living—if you could call existing in the Pleasure Academy living—wasn’t much of a bargain.
Sure, she had three squares a day—like fricking clockwork. A bed at night—Lights Out, ten o’clock! She had clean clothes, and even the ugly uniform ranked higher than whatever she’d scrounged or stolen when freedom hadn’t been just a concept.
School—mostly bullshit—but she secretly liked the French lessons. Auntie (top bitch) claimed speaking a second language helped create a sophisticated, elegant female.
None of that made up for the fact that she hadn’t breathed outdoor air for . . . She couldn’t say exactly, but they’d scooped her up just before Christmas when the easy pickings on the street were abso gargan.
Which is how she’d gotten scooped up because, yeah, maybe a little careless. The girl they’d brought in the week before claimed it was May—maybe—but her brain was still addled from Orientation. Plus, the new one was really young—seven or eight maybe— and cried a lot.
It didn’t seem possible she’d spent a whole winter, a whole spring inside. Then sometimes, at night, in the dark, it all got blurry, and felt as if she’d lived her whole life inside the Academy…
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