The Handmaid's Tale: A Mother's Love: Three.
Three: Sunday.
"Wake up!"
The Major's Martha, Gwen, shakes my bed. I respond by turning onto my right side. My lower back aches from all that pushing. Fresh tears fall from my eyes wetting the pillow case. The fear and the sorrow of what transpired on Friday returns with full, angry force.
"What's wrong now?" I mutter into the pillow.
"They brought that black van around!" she leans closer.
I throw off my sheets and look up at her. The stout brown skinned woman with her shorn hair looks down at me. She could be a cross between a Son of Ham and a Mexican, judging by her features. I thought they all shipped out to the center of Gilead. She bulges out of the green confines of her uniform.
"What do I do?" I draw them around me. "I'm not fully healed!"
Gwen waves her slim, delicate hands at me.
"They don't care about that! Just get washed, dressed, and ready!" She scampers to the bathroom. I hear the water being turned on. The water pipes sing a panicked song.
I try to stand up but the pain from my back and legs forces me onto the bed again.
"I've just had a baby!" I shout.
"I don't where they'll put you!" Gwen wraps one sturdy arm around my waist and hoists me up to lead me into the bathroom.