The Red Center.

It wasn't red- it was grey. Like a prison. It was a prison. It was the holding place for the sinful, ungodly whores of Babylon. Guards at each door. Bars at every window. Aunt Lydia was the Warden. Aunt Rachel was her second in command. Aunt Lydia teaches and Aunt Rachel punishes- Good cop, Bad cop.

But she wasn't being punished today. She should be. But no one knew that. If they knew, she'd be hanging from the wall. If they knew, they wouldn't be so nice to her. Because she had committed the ultimate sin- in their eyes. But they didn't know. All they knew was that Mrs. Phillips had used the fire iron as a punishment. That wasn't allowed. Handmaids were not to be harmed in any way that could cause permanent damage.

That was Aunt Rachel's job- ask Janine about her eye.

Rolling out of bed was hard. Sitting up was harder. Her stomach and sides were sore from her beating. But there was another pain- deeper, secret- that made her breath hitch. The Phillips' second Martha- Annalise- she didn't know better. She was young. She was innocent. So when the Handmaid asked for sesame seeds, honey, and chamomile, there had been no hesitation.

It had been unpleasant. She had gotten sick of the taste of chamomile. She had hated the sight of sesame seeds. But she didn't stop until there was blood in her panties. She wasn't leaving a baby in that house. She wasn't leaving her baby in that house. So the baby had to stop existing. A beating by Mrs. Phillips seemed like a small price to pay.

Unless you asked her ribs.

She sat on the edge of her bed and stared out the barred windows. She looked at the not-red walls and the not-red floors and the not-red ceiling. The beds were red, though. So that was something. She thought of the conversation she had heard the other day. She had two weeks. Two weeks and then she would be re-posted. Back out on the market.

Janine had already gone to her new post. And Emily would be gone in a few hours. Hannah and Brianna were going to deliver their babies soon. And then it would all start over again. A new house. A new Commander. A new Wife. She wondered where she'd go. She wondered if she'd be stuck in a house like the one she just left. She wondered if it would be worse.

Nothing ever got better in Gilead so she wasn't hoping for an upgrade.

The dorm doors swung open and she turned. Aunt Lydia was there, medicine bag in hand. Sometimes she could almost look like she cared. Sometimes she could almost seem human. Aunt Lydia walked over and set her bag on the bed. She knelt down in front of her troublesome Babylonian Whore. Or June- whichever is easier to say at the moment. Pale hands pressed on a red covered stomach. Brown eyes took in purple bruises. Aunt Lydia saw everything, they said. But they were wrong.

Praised be for small miracles.