one in a billion

Rich scumbags. That's what they were. Anger didn't help, never helped, because it just made her want to move, and she needed to not - but maybe it would help now - no. 

No, no, no, Chloe.

Her gums were screaming, her eyes were dry as bone. She was breathing but it was like being underwater, running out of what she needed to live. She did need it to live. One minute, two minutes, three minutes. Don't surface. They hadn't practiced this - at least, not with someone else. Because nobody would want to take the risk and because nobody could know about her. They said it was worse in Europe, that if you caught it and they caught you, they wouldn't even wait to see what type it was. Too scared of a ‘degenerative mutation’. 

This guy must be a fulltimer. Bait. Final test.

But maybe this wasn't a test. Maybe these people didn't think twice about this kind of thing. She knew they didn't. Every rich kid in the city seemed to know where to get their bootleg juice. Like they didn't have enough! Like they didn't have fulltimers on the payroll. Like their parents didn't control every bloodbank in America. They still went out for it just for kicks. That's why she was here, in the end. 

Maybe the board didn't know. That she was exactly the kind of person that their kids would ruin without thinking. Had ruined. If not for Chloe. But maybe they didn't know. Chloe had dressed her up for the application, the interviews. Maybe they didn't know that she was the kind of person they’d bleed dry and grind into dust for fun. Maybe they assumed she was of perfectly good breeding and they were just offering the equivalent of a cookie to go with her tea or whatever rich people offered rich people, once. 

Five minutes, hours, years underwater. Her gums hurt, hurt. She wanted to move so badly she knew that every muscle in her body had become hard and dangerous. Like one of those huge ropes for boats, that snapped sometimes and cut people in half. She imagined Chloe, who was her best friend, stroking her hands down her straining arms slowly, carefully. Stillness. All she had to do was stay still, stay still a little longer, just a little longer, just a little longer and a little longer and a little longer. Delay. Feel the wave come in. Feel it crest. Retreat. Leave taking what she needed for a little later. Stay still.

And if you can't stay still, move slowly, as slowly as Chloe moved in those moments.

Wait. Just wait. Wait, wait, wait.

But there was no Chloe!

Panic made her gasp. The only other person in the room looked up: the fulltimer. It would be so, so easy. Five steps. She’d measured the distance between them a million times by now. She knew how easy. That hurt. She focused on it. It was so easy to hurt Chloe. She’d done it. She didn't want that again. 

It had been three days of tests and interviews, zero so-called refreshments. They'd known about that, they'd prepared for it. They needed her to get through this, to prove herself stable. It was this or it was over. And then what had it all been for? Everything that she’d done to her best friend - everything that Chloe had done to keep her alive. But she might not survive this. It was too much. No drugs, no Chloe. Last ditch effort, before the start of the semester. They didn't have any fancy doctors, or secret drug cocktails that would better her chances - just heroin. They didn't even have healthcare. Her heart could give out any minute. And then what? She'd never even get to have what she wanted so, so badly. 

He was right here across from her, the fulltimer guy, but not as close as Chloe always was in their shitty one room apartment. She hadn't killed Chloe yet. 

And she hadn't died of the infection. Yet. Maybe it was all a lie and they got rid of people like her this way, even if she hadn't attacked anyone, and the police had never got her, and she was young enough to pass the virus, which was special. Billionaires had enough kids of their own, what did they need accidents for? No, that was stupid. She was useful. Rare. Chloe and her had decided they’d think she was useful, like they’d always been useful to bloodsuckers. It’d be a waste to kill her because she hadn't died yet.  

Thinking helped her delay.

Six minutes breathing but not breathing. Not an actual six minutes. Much longer than that. She’d wait at home for eons until Chloe got back from work. Not breaking out - but breaking all their furniture. There were no tables or chairs or kitchen cabinets left in their room. Or even a bed. Drugged, then not even drugged by the end. Waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. It was never enough. Chloe had to work - for the heroin, which meant she had to recover from work which meant two days recovery - and for more juice because it wasn't enough, so more work, more recovery. 

And she needed more juice. More and more and more.

That fulltimer was looking at her.

She realized she had forgotten to stare at the wall. Her eyes wouldn't go, move away from him, like they were glued. Just one time wouldn't hurt. Wasn't it expected? Wouldn't it be strange if she didn't even try? What if she was too good? They wouldn't believe she was even one of them. She could saunter up and tell some stupid entitled fucking joke.  

Maybe if she got in, she’d meet the rich fuck who'd passed it to her. Probably thought she was long dead. Probably didn't think about it at all, because what did it matter when everybody that he infected died? Why not lie about his age and forget about protection?

She’d got up.

That was bad.

Stay still. 

She knew that if she reached that fulltimer she wouldn't saunter or say anything. She’d grab and tear.

If only Chloe was here. It was too much. She didn't care anymore. She couldn't care anymore. 

She took a step, slowly.

She couldn't care anymore. 

Chloe. 

The door opened.

That same woman looked in, with that 40-something face. It would never grow any different, if they let her keep her bloodbank membership card. She was the type who could fall out of favor. The type that might turn into a regular customer of Chloe’s, or hers, before everything went to shit. Once you were out, there was no way back in. Even hospitals couldn't get blood without a subscription. 

“Your test results are in.”

The woman did not smile.

“Emily Miller, it is my honor and privilege to welcome you to a university specialized in educating the most gifted people in the world.”

Emily waited. Her heart felt like it was bursting. She waited to see if it actually would.

“You are now a student of the prestigious Erythrocytus Immortality Research Institute.”