text: It's a text-based game that you download on your phone, that lets you make choices and develop your 'bitlife' by aging them up. I found it while looking for a game to occupy myself during a 6-hour flight, and against all odds, I got hooked to it. I’m not much of a ‘gamer’, unless you count Candy Crush, but for some reason this game really drew me in. All the options and unique scenarios just kept me coming back for more. My first ‘Bitlife’ died as a mid-level salesman. The next was a famous musician. The one after was a notorious serial killer. Every new ‘bitlife’ was different, and every one more interesting than the next. One day, I was lying on my couch, sipping on a vitamin water as my latest bitlife lived out his final years. He was a very successful CEO, married to his partner for 40 years, and was the loving adopted father of two boys. The black ‘death’ screen popped up, as I aged him up one last time. “*Gary Newell died at the age of 82.*” “*He passed away peacefully in his sleep.*” I let out a satisfied sigh. Gary lived a very fulfilling, very successful life. I took another sip of my water, letting the silence of my apartment envelop me for a few moments. I checked the time. 9:18 p.m. Enough time for me to start a new life. I clicked the little sperm icon to start again. My phone froze, the screen becoming unresponsive for a few seconds. Frustrated, I locked and unlocked the screen to try to get it to work again. It flickered back to life, the app opening again. I gasped as double-checked the new name. “*Rita Thatcher*”. The exact same name as me! I let out a laugh, trying to imagine what the chances are that the random name would be mine! I decided I was gonna give little Rita the best life possible. Make her a CEO, or a famous painter. Maybe even a movie star. Feeling excited, I took a look at the information screen. “*I was born a female in Glasgow, UK.*” My eyes went wide as I double-checked the location. I was born in Glasgow. My excitement slowly faded to a dull sense of dread as I continued to read. “*Born 28 November.*” Same day as me. The feeling of dread grew as I read the names of the parents. "*David Thatcher, writer. (age 29)*" "*Willow Thatcher, police officer. (age 27)*" Those are my parents names. My dad was a writer, and my mom was a police officer back in those days. I quickly did the math, and the ages also matched. With shaking hands, I clicked "Age up". "*Age: 1 year. My mother and father had a baby boy named Jenson.*" My blood turned to ice as I read the text again. "No way." I said to myself over and over, unable to believe that this is really happening. My stomach wrenched itself into knots as I thought of my poor, sweet brother. I clicked "Age up." Nothing showed up for Age 2 and 3. With each blank screen, the feeling of dread that sat inside me eased up just a little. I tried to imagine what the odds of all this being a coincidence was. Probably impossibly low. I clicked "Age up." "*Age 4: your parents want to buy you and your brother a pet spaniel named Daphne!*" I let out a shriek as I dropped my phone and scrambled to the other side of the couch. I fell off the edge, my butt hitting the cold, tiled floor. I sat there for a bit, curled up and taking deep breaths. I remembered Daphne's sweet, brown eyes and golden coat. My parents got her for Jenson and I when I was four. She was my sweet angel, my best friend for five years. I sat on the floor for a few seconds more, as the weight in my stomach eased up enough for me to get up. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a glass from the cabinet and poured myself some water. I leaned against the counter, taking slow sips as the feeling of dread faded little by little. I placed the empty glass in the sink and turned the hot water on, grabbing the sponge and dish soap as the water heated up. Still in a daze, I cleaned the glass, rinsing off the suds and placing it on the rack to dry. I think I'm just tired. Overworked and delusional from working a double shift. I'll just turn off the game and go to bed. I jumped as a 'Ping!' sounded from the lounge. It's my phone, letting me know I had a message. I made my way to the lounge, sitting back on the couch as I picked up my phone and glanced at its screen. Bitlife was still open, it's text waiting patiently for me as I swiped down and checked the notification. It was from Bitlife. "*Don't leave just yet!*" it said. "You must be losing your mind, Rita." I told myself, as I clicked "Age up", bracing myself for whatever came next. "It's just a game." I tried to tell myself. It didn't help. "*Age: 6 years. My dad is now addicted to alcohol.*" I tried to lock the phone, my hands fumbling over the button over and over in a panic. The screen refused to lock, the text becoming blurry as I started to cry. In frustration, I threw my phone across the room. It gave a loud **Crack!** as it bounced against the wall, it's screen ripping off and hanging from the main body. The phone started pinging. Slowly at first, but picking up speed until it became a torrent of noise. Mechanically, I made my way over to it, delicately picking up the screen as its cabling snapped off and left the main body behind. Impossibly, notifications flooded across the top of its lit screen. "Don't leave just yet, Rita!" it said, all from Bitlife. I watched as they flickered by. Suddenly they stopped, one final message popping up from the Text app. It was from my dad. "*Keep playing, Rita.*" I clicked "Age up." "*Age: 7 years. My brother Jenson died at the age of 6.*" My eyesight became more blurry as tears flowed down my face. "*He died in a car crash.*" My dad was driving that car. He picked him up from nursery school and was on his way to pick me up from my school when it happened. It was a head-on collision. The police found my dad over the limit, and halfway across the other lane. Another notification, this time from my mom. "*Keep going!*" Numbly, I clicked "Age up." "*Age: 8 years. My mom died at the age of 35.*" The phones speakers came to life from the other side of the room, giving me a start. Two voices flooded out of it. It's been years, but I recognized my parent's voices. It started out hushed, both of them whispering to each other so as to not wake little Rita. Soon the voices grew louder and louder, filling the living room as they screamed angrily at each other. I cupped my ears, trying to drown out the sounds. It grew louder, the noise filling the room until I screamed, trying to drown them out. Suddenly it stopped. A door slammed and the sound of heavy footsteps marched away. I heard someone open a kitchen drawer, the utensils clanging together inside it as someone rifled around. They pulled something out, slamming the drawer shut as they made their way back to where they came. I heard another 'Ping!' come from my phone. "*She was stabbed by my father during an argument.*" The screaming turned my blood to ice. It started off loud and shrill, the sound reverberating throughout the house. It started becoming hoarse and choked, before cutting off to a gargling silence. I cupped my hands over my ears, dropping the screen as I curled into a ball. I began screaming, telling it to stop as the sounds of my dad's labored breathing joined the sounds of his knife. Suddenly it cut off with another 'Ping!'. As my vision returned, I looked up at the screen. "*Keep playing, Rita.*" I clicked "Age up." "*Age: 9 years. My father committed suicide in prison at age 38. I've been sent to an orphanage.*" I clicked again. "Age up." "*Age: 13 years. I was adopted by Adam Whiteley and Sarah Whiteley.*" Another 'Ping!'. "*Almost there.*" "*Age: 15 years. My adoptive father hit me for not finishing dinner.*" 'Ping!'. "Age up." "*Age: 18 years. I ran away from home.*" "*Age: 19 years. I got a job as a barista.*" "*Age: 20 years." "*22 years*" 25. My breathing is shallow, my head is fuzzy and my hands are shaking as I stare at the screen. 25 years. I turned 26 today. I jumped as I heard another 'Ping!'. "*Almost there.*" I clicked "Age up." The black 'Death' screen popped up.