A Handmaid's Tale Fanfic

Meeting my Owners

My new clothes were laid on a bed in a small bedroom. The signature red dress, white prayer cap and bonnet, practical shoes. I hadn't seen Andrew since he chose me. I was told his name was Andrew by Aunt Margaret, and that he would not want to be disturbed. Nor would his wife. I would serve my handmaid duties and stay to myself. I was allowed to talk with the house crew, and walk to the market with another handmaid. But I was to spend most of my time in my bedroom, reading the bible and praying that the Lord made me fruitful.

I missed the days of being Sara. Like a fool, I had thought since my parents were elite, I would be like them. But once they discovered I was menstruating, that all changed. I felt like a machine, a human attached to a womb for the purpose of making their babies. Was this all there was? Was this going to be my life? Producing babies for the sake of our "faith", to be fruitful and multiply.

A brief knock on my door was followed by a woman in a blue dress entering without asking. I knew it was Andrew's wife. I said nothing, just looked down at the floor.

"Hello, OfAndrew,"

I was scared to look at her, so I continued to look down. I said nothing, my fear had grasped my throat. The woman didn't seem to notice, or care about, my fear. I heard her footsteps come closer. The clack-clack of her heels. They stopped short and she put her hand below my chin and lifted my face.

"I said hello,"

My throat was dry, I wanted to cough or clear my throat. My mind went blank, I didn't know how to react. Was I to say it back to her? If I didn't, would she beat me, or have me sent to the colonies?

"Hello..." my voice faded.

She gave a satisfied smirk and let go of my chin. She had a booklet in her other hand, and lifted it up and turned the pages. She was quiet for a moment as she read what was in the booklet.

"It says your menstrual cycle begins around the 8th day of the month, which will be in three days. So we are going to talk about how things are done here. I know the aunt taught you what is expected of a handmaid, but we have our own way of doing things around here. You are our first handmaid. Did they tell you that?"

I looked at her face. She looked tired and sad. Perhaps she wanted this no more than I did. We all followed the rules but didn't know why.

"No, ma'am."

She groaned and rolled her eyes. "Please, my name is Helen. Helen Mitchell. That is our last name, you may call me Helen when we are here but call me Mrs. Mitchell anywhere else."

Her voice seemed genuine, but I learned not to trust anyone. Keep quiet, stay out of the way. Don't fight back, or they will kill me.

Helen turned and walked over to the bed. She picked up the dress and handed it to me. "You may as well put this on. Do you have any questions?"

I took the dress from her. I had a million questions, including how do I get away from here, but none of my questions were ones that would be tolerated. I had too many scars from the brutal whippings I got while training. The aunts enjoyed it, making us scared and suffering. Asking questions was a death sentence. "No," I replied.

Helen was quiet for a moment. She was young, not much older than me probably. "Look, I know you're supposed to obey and be silent and all, but, I want to make sure we are all in the same page. I'm not expecting us to be friends, but you're going to be fucking my husband, let's try to do this as pleasantly as possible."

I flinched. No one had phrased it that way, but it was the truth. As biblical and miraculous as the rulers tried to make it seem, it was fucking. Nothing more. We were like dogs. Less than dogs, as at least they choose their mate. I had no choice. Andrew would have sex with me and I would take it. I felt tears well in my eyes and tried to keep them from rolling down my face.

I inhaled deeply. "Can I get dressed now?" A tear rolled down my cheek.

Helen paused, and gave a resigning sigh. "Whatever," She turned and walked to the doorway. "You are free to move around the house and grounds but cannot leave without an escort. Even when you are with other handmaids, you must have an escort. We have a guard, he will be with you at all times when you're not here. There have been too many attempts from handmaids to hide, or worse, this is in everyone's best interest." She quickly left and closed the door behind her.

I shook my head. Everyone's best interest? If they truly had any sincere interest in me - or any handmaid - they wouldn't treat us like prisoners who's only crime is being fertile. I wiped the tear and got dressed. But I didn't leave my room. Everything seemed like a dream. One moment I'm living with my mother and father, who I thought loved me. But how could they let this happen to me? Were we all doing what was right? Is this what God would want? Even though I was dressed, I stayed in my room the entire day, through the night and into the morning. I tried hard to accept this as a gift from God, as the aunts had taught us. My sleep was sporadic, and I knew my sleep was over when I heard the bell ring from the kitchen. I put on my prayer cap and prayed. This is what we were taught.