She stared up at the house in front of her. Two stories, Colonial- style architecture, complete with white plank siding and shutters at every window. There was a seating area on the veranda, two wooden chairs and a round table to match. It was nice. The lawn was well cared for. Carefully trimmed shrubs lined the house on each side of the stairs. Bright flowers surrounded the bushes: pinks, yellows, she even saw a few blues.
Martha Stewart would approve.
Aunt Lydia's hand landed on her back. An order to move forward made to look like an encouraging touch. "Ofnicholas, this is your new home." The door opened and she dropped her eyes to the ground. The urge to look up- examine these people the way they were examining her- was strong. But that would not be the meek thing to do. She kept her head down. "Ah, blessed day Commander Blain, Mrs. Blaine." She assumed they gave some type of nonverbal response because a moment passed before Aunt Lydia turned to her again. "Go along then, Ofnicholas."
June. My name is June you crazy bitch.
She walked up the steps. The Commander stepped back to let her into the house. His wife stood just to the side of the door. Her hands were fidgeting with the sleeves of her jacket. Pretending not to notice June stood across the small entryway. The floors were hardwood. The tips of her shoes touched the edge of a long rug. It had yellow flowers. It matched the yellow walls.
The door closing brought June from her observation of the décor below waist level.
"We're so glad that you're here, Ofnicholas." Mrs. Blaine sounded like she was barely in her teens. God, did she get stuck with some kind of pedophile? Wasn't this shit already bad enough? "I hope we can all get along while you're here."
"Thank you Mrs. Blaine. May the Lord make me worthy."
The Commander cleared his throat, reminding June that he was even there. She wondered if he was always so creepily quiet. Before she could come up with an appropriate greeting for the man he passed them and headed down the hall. Her head turned just slightly to catch a glimpse of him. Tall, medium build, with dark curly hair. He was alright from the back.
"He's…really busy today." Mrs. Blaine's voice had June bringing her eyes back to the floor. "He's always really busy. He does important work to help Gilead prosper." She sounded like a kid explaining why her dad missed a softball game. June almost felt sorry for her.
"Of course."
June lifted her head a bit. An uncomfortable silence settled between the two women. June couldn't leave without permission. She didn't know what room she had been assigned either. But it didn't seem like Mrs. Blaine was going to say anything else anytime soon. She seemed content to stand and…stare?
"Is my room on this floor?"
Mrs. Blaine dropped the fabric of her now wrinkled skirt. June watched the fingers of one hand nervously twist the fingers of the other. "I'm so sorry. You must want to get settled." A wife who apologizes? That's…weird. "Um, you can- you can just follow me?" Then she was rushing up the stairs behind June.
Her bag was still by the door, so June went and picked it up before following. The Commander's wife was already waiting at the first landing. It was the first time June saw the woman's face. Only she wasn't a woman. She couldn't have been more than sixteen- if that. Her stomach dropped as she realized just how sick this situation was. And she felt a rush of anger and disgust for her new Commander that rivaled what she had felt for her first one.
Commander Philips had been old and disgusting and a fucking huge misogynist. His hand always found a way to end up on her ass and he ended every 'compliment' with 'for a woman…' But he had never once glanced at their second Martha. She had been about Mrs. Blaine's age.
But this new Commander…
June continued up the stairs. They took the hall to the right. June wondered vaguely what was down the other hall. She supposed she'd have time to explore more later. The walls were a deeper yellow than downstairs. And there was carpeting on the floor. Beige- boring.
Mrs. Blaine stopped at the second door on the left. She had such a bright smile on her face. It made June's palms sweat. "I hope you can be happy with us, Ofnicholas. I…I'm just really excited about being a mother." Then the smile dimmed- disappeared entirely. "I know it's what God wants for me. And the Commander."
Yeah, right…
Opening the door, Mrs. Blaine motioned for June to go inside. She forced a smile as she slid past the girl and went inside. Four lilac painted walls, a closet, and a door leading to the bathroom. The bathroom at Commander Philips' house had been downstairs. They didn't trust her not to drown herself or something. The previous Handmaid took too long in the bath which is why they needed her.
There was a bay window with a built in seat. The bed was pushed against the wall closest to her. It had a lilac comforter and white pillows. It was pretty. Full size, so bigger than her last bed. A small nightstand was beside it, with an hourglass-shaped lamp, a small clock, and what looked like a little girl's jewelry box. June glanced at the door. Mrs. Blaine was still there, watching anxiously as June took in the room.
"It's lovely, Mrs. Blaine. Thank you." I'll have a nice room to hide in after your husband rapes me. I really appreciate it. The relieved smile that appeared on the girl's face was too much for June. She was too nice to be a Wife. She was too sweet, June could see it. "May I have a few minutes to unpack? I can come down when I'm finished it you'd like." She just needed her to leave. She couldn't keep looking at her nervous, innocent baby-face.
"Of course! I'm sorry. I'll just- you can come find me after. In the sitting room?"
June smiled and nodded. It must have been what the girl needed. Her whole face lit up before she turned and left. Waiting until she heard the stairs creaking, June closed the door. She turned and leaned heavily on the door, her head making a small thump as it hit the wood.
"Welcome home, Ofnicholas…"
She knew the drill. She knew what to say and do, she knew when and where to be. She had learned it all the first time. The Red Center gave you the basics. Aunt Lydia told you exactly what to do and how to do it when it came to being a Handmaid. But they didn't cover the other things- the little things.
Mrs. Philips taught her those. Painfully, with heavy hands and sharp words. Mrs. Philips didn't allow mistakes. She didn't allow disrespect- breathing too loudly, walking too heavily, or staying in a room she occupied. The bruises from her hands during the last Ceremony had only just faded. And there was still a mark on her back from the rod she had used after Ofclifford has dropped one of the cloth napkins that were being folded.
Commander Philips- he taught her things too. He taught her that the Ceremony wasn't the only time his cock could be inside of her. It didn't matter if she would rather not. It didn't matter that the rules were clear on intercourse outside of the Ceremony. And he had no problem holding a pillow over her face to keep her 'calm and sweet'. There was never a 'no' with him. There were bruises and sprains; there were the disgusting sounds of his exertion. But there was not, 'no'.
Their older Martha taught her that the Commander might be the head of the household, but the Wife was in charge. She taught her that if there was a conflict between the two, it was the Wife's orders you followed. Because she held all the power within the home. Power to maim or dismiss you with no warning and no trial.
The Red Center taught her to be a textbook Handmaid.
The Philips taught her how to be an actual Handmaid.
She stepped into Mrs. Blaine's sitting room. It was like Big Bird threw up. Everything was yellow. Porcelain canaries on the mantelpiece. Pastel yellow curtains at the windows. Cream furniture with pale yellow flower patterns. It was the most depressingly cheery room June had ever stepped into. And perched carefully of a settee was Mrs. Blaine, the blue-green of her dress out of place with everything else in the room.
June knocked lightly on the doorframe. The way the Commander's wife startled made June wonder if her husband was violent. She had only seen the back of him for less than ten seconds, not enough time to make any type of character judgment. But… He was married to a teenager. And abuse didn't have to be purely physical.
"Ofnicholas, come in. Please." The girl gestured for June to sit on the chair across from her. After an appropriate level of hesitation, June did. But she didn't sit back, choosing instead to rest on the edge of the seat. It was presumptuous to act as if she were a wanted guest instead of a necessary tool. "Have you settled in well?"
"Yes, Mrs. Blaine."
A long stretch of silence followed. An awkward silence. The smile that had formed on Mrs. Blaine's face faltered as she realized that June wouldn't be saying anything else.
"Oh. Good- um, praised be." Her fingers started twisting the sides of her skirt again. She did that a lot it seemed. Her brows furrowed for a moment before her expression cleared again. The smile came back- just as warm and open as before. "Do you have any questions for me? Do you want me to show you the rest of the house? Or maybe the garden?"
"That's alright, Mrs. Blaine. I don't want to intrude on your time."
I don't want to see you more than I have to. The fact that this girl was so nervous made June uneasy. Mrs. Philips had been sure of herself and her place within the household. And she had no problem reminding everyone what their place was in relationship to hers. But this girl- she didn't seem like she knew anything about what being a Wife meant. Or how to approach a Handmaid being in her home.
Still, June felt bad when the girl's face fell at her rejection. Not enough to change her mind, but enough.
"That's okay. I understand." And maybe she really did understand. She looked as if she knew when someone didn't want to be around her. The Commander? Her family? It didn't matter. June was not going to touch any of that. She was going to keep her distance and make sure she got out of this house in one piece. Mrs. Blaine straightened her posture until it looked painful. "You're dismissed, then, Ofnicholas. Dinner is served in the kitchen at six-thirty."
Then, she stood and left the room.
If June hadn't been paying attention she might have missed the tear that escaped as she turned down the hall.
They had been driving for hours. The sun had set before their last gas stop. Now it was raining- so hard that even with the bright lights on and the windshield wipers going on high Luke was hunched over the steering wheel. His eyes were narrowed as he tried to see the dark road in front of them.
June was looking behind them. It had been a while since they had seen another car, but she was still worried. She had seen the way the new military had grabbed he co-worker from out of her car, dragged her into a black van as she screamed. She had seen them holding down her boyfriend, grinding his face into the asphalt. Heather had gotten pregnant a few months back. She and Dante had decided they weren't ready to be parents- she'd had an abortion. But now these people were saying that had been illegal- immoral. They said that her fertility was a gift that she would share with the new country.
That was when June knew- they had to get out.
So they had filled up the car and just started driving for the Canadian border. They had emptied her bank account. Well, Luke had. And he pulled out half of what he had in his checking's. It wasn't much but they had both been too scared to get more. They didn't want to raise suspicion.
'I can't see anything, babe. I can't keep driving in this- it's too dangerous.'
June turned back to the front seat. She placed her hand on his tense arm. 'We can't stop, Luke.' She had wanted to leave earlier- get to Canada like her friend Moira. But Luke…he had been sure things would calm down and she didn't think it could get any worse. 'You saw what they did to Heather and Dante. That can't be us.'
He gave a terse nod and leaned closer to the windshield. She knelt on the seat and turned back around. Something flashed in the distance. Probably just lightning, June. Don't freak out yet. But then she saw it again. It lasted too long to be lightning. And it was getting closer. The car skidded, knocking June sideways into the door.
'Shit. Shit, sorry.'
But she barely acknowledged the rough ride. Her eyes were glued to the headlights that were steadily getting closer. 'Luke. Headlights. There are headlights, Luke' She saw him turn his head from the corner of her eyes. Then the car swerved again, spinning out a little before he got it back under control.
'It's probably just someone else trying to get out. It's probably just…'
But it wasn't. A flash of lightning illuminated the night enough for June to see. It was a black van. One like they had thrown Heather into. Her eyes got wide as she realized just how much speed the van was moving at. They were closing in on them and they didn't look like they were going to slow down.
'Luke…. Luke! You have to go faster. You have to go faster!'
'I can't, June! These tires are shit, I can barely see! We'll crash for su-.'
The care jerked forward. June fell back, the back of her head hitting the dashboard. The van rammed into the back of them again. Luke lost control on the car. They spun out. June fell into the foot-well. They hit something. The car rolled- ended upright. But the impact made something snap in her arm. She couldn't hold in her scream. She tried to move her arm, but she couldn't- she was stuck.
Then her door was being yanked open. 'Wait! Wait! Leave her alone! Hey! Leave her alone!' She couldn't see him but June tried to reach for Luke, tried to slide away from whoever was reaching for her. Hands grabbed her and she screamed. Pain shot through her entire body as someone pulled on her arm. 'June! June! Hey, let her go! Asshole, let her go!' But they ignored Luke.
Arms wrapped around her- pulling her into the rain. She kicked and screamed- in pain and fear. She tried to claw at the arms around her, but she couldn't. She bucked and jerked- tried to get them to loosen their hold. Nothing worked. Then she felt a prick on the side of her neck. Her head got foggy. Her legs stopped kicking, her body went limp.
'June! June!' She could barely hear Luke anymore. Was he still next to her? 'No, please, Stop, please!' She thought she heard a shout- like someone in pain. Then a bang- like a gun in the movies. Then nothing.
There was nothing but rain and black.
Then there was only black and silence.