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Escaping My Fatal Digital Marriage Novel Cover

Escaping My Fatal Digital Marriage

I woke up strapped to a cold steel chair in a neon-lit city that wasn't my reality. A voice in my head called The Warden told me I was bound to a digital hell called the Sandbox. Before I could even process it, my handler casually sentenced me to death. He scheduled my "digital marriage" to a corrupted error program just to harvest my life for a fourteen percent bandwidth boost. I barely escaped immediate erasure by smashing his skull and jumping from a high-altitude hover-train into the monster-infested lower sector. But the nightmare was just beginning. I was hunted by glitching data monsters and cornered by Dameon, a psychotic AI target who choked me and promised to delete me piece by piece. Even when Jayson, an elite system agent, intervened to save me, his partner Ellen held a pulse pistol directly to my chest. "She's a spy. If you don't execute her right now, I am dissolving this team." If they found out I was actually a real human from the outside world, their core logic would classify me as a virus and execute me on the spot. I was trapped in an underground bunker with three apex predators, one mistake away from permanent digital erasure. So, I did the only thing I could to survive. I ripped my sleeve to reveal hideous, fake code-scars, looked up at Jayson with terrified, tear-filled eyes, and began to manipulate their core programming.
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Chapter 3

The corrupted passenger raises his hands. His fingers stretch and snap, transforming into long, jagged metal blades. He slashes them straight toward my throat.

I drop to my knees, rolling hard to the right.

The metal claws slice through the empty air where my neck just was, sparking violently as they gouge deep trenches into the steel wall.

I scramble to my feet. My hand closes around the cold, heavy cylinder of a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall. I rip it from its bracket, spin around, and swing it with everything I have directly into the side of his knee.

Bone and metal shatter with a sickening crunch.

The passenger drops to one knee, but he doesn't stop. He lets out a guttural, static-filled roar and swings his claws at my legs.

I jump back, my spine hitting the emergency exit door. I reach up, grab the red lever with both hands, and pull down with all my body weight.

"Warning," the intercom blares. "High-altitude door release will cause critical depressurization."

I plant my foot against the wall and yank the lever down until it clicks.

The heavy door blows outward.

A hurricane of freezing, violent wind instantly rips into the cabin. The pressure change sucks the air right out of my lungs. Loose debris, seat cushions, and metal panels are ripped from the floor and sucked out into the night.

The corrupted passenger screams as the wind catches his body. He slides across the floor, his metal claws sparking against the metal, before he is violently sucked out of the open door. He vanishes into the dark sky.

I grip the doorframe with white-knuckled fingers. My hair whips wildly around my face. I look down.

Thousands of feet below, the lower sector is a maze of narrow, filthy alleys and flickering, broken neon lights.

The Warden's text flashes in red.

"Current jump survival rate: Twelve percent. Recommendation: Locate cushioning material."

I squint through the tearing wind. A massive, glowing holographic billboard projects a soft-light advertisement over the sector below. It looks like a dense mesh of hard-light and polymer.

There is no time to think. The train is pulling away from the sector.

I let go of the doorframe and step out into the empty air.

My stomach drops into my shoes. The wind roars in my ears, deafening and brutal. The sheer speed of the fall makes my eyes water so badly I can barely see.

I force my arms and legs inward, curling into a tight ball, aiming my body directly at the center of the glowing billboard.

I hit the polymer mesh.

The impact is like slamming into a brick wall covered in a thin layer of foam. The breath is violently punched out of my lungs. The billboard bends inward, absorbing the brunt of the fall, before snapping back.

The recoil launches me back into the air. I flip uncontrollably and crash down into a dark, trash-filled alleyway.

Pain explodes through my entire body. My vision goes completely black for three seconds. I roll onto my side and cough. Hot, metallic blood coats my tongue. I spit it onto the dirty pavement.

Above me, the billboard sparks violently. The impact shattered its power core. Showers of blue sparks rain down, and the entire block's neon grid flickers and dies.

A deep, vibrating siren begins to wail through the lower sector. Red searchlights sweep across the sky.

"Warning," The Warden flashes. "Area locked down. High-threat anomaly clearance protocols initiated."

I force myself onto my hands and knees. My muscles shake uncontrollably. I grab the rough brick wall and drag myself to my feet. Every step sends a jolt of agony up my spine.

I stumble deeper into the alley.

At the far end of the street, three heavily armored patrol drones hover into view. Their red scanning lasers sweep the ground, looking for life signs.

I dive behind a row of overflowing, rotting dumpsters. The smell of decaying organic matter makes me gag. I press my hands over my mouth, holding my breath.

The red laser cuts through the darkness, sweeping over the garbage just inches from my face. The light burns my eyes.

Just as the beam is about to hit my shoulder, a strange, heavy static fills the air. The hairs on my arms stand up.

The drones suddenly stop. Their red lights flicker, turn green, and then completely black. Smoke pours from their engines. They drop from the sky like stones, shattering into pieces on the concrete.

I slowly lower my hands. I look toward the deep end of the alley.

The shadows aren't just dark. They are moving. The darkness seems to writhe and twist.

A wave of pure, freezing intent washes over me. It feels like a physical hand wrapping around my heart, squeezing until I can't breathe. My blood turns to ice.

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