Dusk: A Handmaid's Tale Story

Chapter 4

(Trigger Warning: mentions of rape and suicidal thoughts)

It's hard to pretend. 

It's hard to pretend that I am a pious believer. It's hard to pretend that I'm content with my life and role. It's hard to pretend that I like where I live and those around me. It's hard to pretend I don't want to scream and run away every single second. 

It's hard to pretend I am unfazed as I am essentially being raped for the first time.

The Commander had seemed seemingly hesitant and had ensured that his wife was alright. His wife. Not me of course. The young thing seemed excited even I'd dare say. Maybe she was pretending? She might be good at pretending. 

The Commander looked at his wife the whole time. Every thrust and groan was directed at her it seemed. Maybe he was just pretending? He was definitely not pretending as he came. 

They left to "give me privacy and time to rest". I'm pretty sure I could hear them fucking in the next room right after. 

The ceiling was a pale blue color. I'd memorized it's texture several minutes in. I'd imagined it was the sky. Pale blue and vast over a field of grass somewhere. Somewhere that wasn't here. No where near here. Maybe Europe? Maybe Canada? Somewhere vast and free to roam. 

I'd been laying here long enough by now. I slowly sat up. My thighs ached painfully. I pulled my underwear up my legs, pretending not the feel anything dripping out of me. I placed my feet on the ground and stood up. Two steps and I fell on the floor. 

My cheek laid against the wooden floor. 

I had to pretend all was normal as I made my way up the stairs. My lower back hurt. My thighs hurt. Every step hurt. 

I had to pretend I wouldn't kill Ezra if he made a comment from his room, because right now was NOT the time for his asshole remarks. 

As I made it up the stairs, I looked back at the flight of stairs I had walked so carefully. Many wooden steps to reach the third floor... The thought vaguely came across my mind that how little time would it take to reach the bottom of the steps if I just... fell? If I let go of the wooden stair rung, how long would it take? 

I had to pretend I didn't just have that thought. 

I took two more steps forward and my knees buckled again. My cheek laid against the wooden floor once more. 

If I just closed my eyes, I could maybe pretend I wasn't here anymore...

-POV Change-

A loud thump resounded outside in the hall. My eyes were instantly drawn to the door and beyond to where the sound could have come from. 

Everyone in my family was likely still in the damn "ceremony". Fucking shit. Maybe it was a Martha? 

Part of me said just stay inside and ignore it, just like you ignore everything else in this hell. I'd be pretending if I did that and quite frankly, I was getting tired of pretending. 

Standing up and pulling my shirt down to look more presentable, I made my way to the door. 

I'd be lying if I said the sight didn't shake me a bit. 

On the floor, by the staircase in a pile of red and white, was the Handmaid. 

"Ah Shit!" I said and rushed to her. 

As I knelt down I noticed her hazel eyes were closed. Her face was not it's tanned color, but unusually pale and her breathing came out low. Her dark hair had spilled from it's bonnet and cascaded around her like a grim halo. 

"OfJames... OfJames!" I shouted into her ear as I shook her. 

I looked around her to try and get some semblance of what the hell was happening when I noticed the drops of red coming up the staircase and leading to her. 

Moving her on her back gently, my suspicions were confirmed when I noticed a small amount of darker red concentrated on the lower part of her dress. She still made no attempt to wake. 

Blinded by a rage I didn't know I had, I instantly swept her up and into my room. 

If I could kill. I'd have done it already. I'd have to pretend that I wasn't thinking about it right now.