I was no longer allowed to help with the chores, I was supposed to be a perfect incubator, eating all the food given to me, taking walks, practicing birthing positions, and resting. I was expected to sit by Mrs. Cole as she knit baby blankets and caps. She would frequently look up from her work to gaze at my non-existent baby bump, or walk over to kiss and stroke it. When she was in the garden or visiting one of the wives, I was to sit alone in my room or nap. Mrs. Cole had also taken to acting out what she called her "pregnancy sickness." She made a show of finding Anne's cooking revolting, going so far as to vomit into the toilet after taking a bite, then yelling at Anne to make something else. She made up strange cravings and demanded the Martha's to fetch the various ingredients, only to find herself too "sick" later to eat. She had me massage her shoulders and feet because "all this commotion made her muscles ache".
Mrs. Cole burned Maria's hand on the stovetop when she snorted at her complaint. Maria ran off crying afterwards. I didn't see her the next day.
I was sitting by the window watching a bird in the apple tree when a soft knock on the door shook me from remembering Maria's screams. It was too quiet to be Anne's knock. Confused, I opened the door to see Commander Cole, a strange gleam in his eyes.
"Blessed be the fruit, Ofmartin." He greeted, pressing past me to sit in the only chair. He propped his feet up on my bed. Annoyance and a flicker of alarm bubbled inside me, I wanted to snap at him to get out of my room.
"May the Lord open," I said instead. It may be my room, but this was his house.
"How's our little fruit doing today?" He asked, pointing to the floor beside him.
I knelt obediently, fuming inside. I was pregnant, surely I was supposed to be treated better than a dog.
"The baby's doing well, I think. A little nausea today, but nothing severe. It's still too early to know anymore than that."
He looked down on me, half-smiling. That's when I realized what that expression in his eyes was; it was predatory.
"Women are so much prettier when they are pregnant, don't you think?" He said after a painfully long silence.
Dread dropped into my stomach like a lead weight. Both Ofmiltons had warned me about this. I'd thought myself lucky, convinced myself I was safe. I was wrong. His fingers hooked under my chin and lifted my face. He traced my jaw, then my lips with his forefinger, his breath quickening. He grabbed my cap and carefully removed the pins holding it in place before pulling it off my head. He unpinned my bun so that my dirty blonde hair tumbled down my back.
"This room's lighting doesn't do you justice," he said. "It's much better in my bedroom."
In one swift motion in contrast with his bulk, he strode out of the room. He paused on the stairs, seeing that I was frozen in place gestured "Come".
My feet unwillingly obeyed and followed him to his room. I'd never seen the Commander's bedroom before, Mrs. Cole wouldn't allow it. But she was out in the gardens now, she couldn't save me. The furniture was made of dark woods, broken up by burgundy and gold accents. Commander Cole threw open the window curtains, letting the sun illuminate this bloody dungeon. He didn't bother to shut the door.
"Yes, that's much better," he murmured into my ear from behind. His hands dug into my waist.
I shuddered. "Good," he groaned, taking that as an invitation. His hands slid to my belly as he thrust himself forward. At least I couldn't feel anything but his fat gut. He'd have a tough time getting what he wanted from this position. I clenched my teeth and focused on the chandelier. I could do nothing to stop him, do as Ofmilton had once said, find a memory and go there instead. But my mind was empty of anything except the present, of his hands making slow circles on my hips and stomach, of his ragged panting in my ear.
Suddenly, he scooped me up from behind and dropped me onto a chair. I cried out, but was cut off by his tongue forcing its way down my throat. I bit down. The Commander yelled and my vision went white as he punched my face. I let go, tasting his blood on my lips. Before I recovered, he was stripping my clothes and tying me to the chair with ropes, my legs spread apart leaving me exposed to open air. I pulled against them, but that only earned me a cuff to the ear that set my head ringing.
"Now," he puffed, his face flushed. "That was a very naughty thing you did there. I was going to be gentle, for the baby's sake, but you must be punished. I want an apology."
"I'm sorry Commander Cole," I breathed, too terrified for it to be more than a whisper. "Please forgive me, I'm sorry, I'm so-"
"That's a good start, but it isn't enough." He cut in.
He raked his eyes over my body, then his hands. Tears poured down my face. "Stop. Please stop." I plead thickly.
He cupped my breasts and nibbled. I screamed, hoping someone, anyone would come help me. A Guardian, a Martha, even James would be a welcome sight. He kissed my stomach, his still bleeding tongue rimming my navel. He massaged it, murmuring something I couldn't make out to it. Then his fingers slipped lower. I gasped. He continued to violate me, before unzipping his pants and bringing himself to my mouth. I gagged on him, I couldn't breathe. I could feel his hair caught in my teeth. I sobbed the whole time, but that seemed to make him harder and groan louder. When he was finished with me, I promptly vomited on myself.
"What do you want?" He asked. I looked up, but he wasn't talking to me. Mrs. Cole stood in the doorway, her face white as a sheet.
A pregnant pause. "Martin, you can't do this, not again. Don't you see how you are sinning against God and your country? She's pregnant, what if the baby dies because of your-of your lust." She sniffed, quickly dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. I had never seen this side of her before, broken, helpless. I hated her for it, just standing there crying while I was naked and tied up and raped. She was a Wife, she should do something.
The Commander huffed and rolled his eyes. "This is your fault, you know. I wouldn't do this if you weren't such a disappointment to God that he made you barren. What are you going to do about it, Charlene? It's my word against yours, sugar, no one will believe a thing you say. As for God, I'm sure He'll forgive my little indulgences as I bring about His kingdom."
"The Handmaid," Mrs. Cole quivered. "The Handmaid is a witness of your sins. They'll believe the two of us."
He scoffed. "You want to bet on that? I had that last one's mouth stapled shut for a reason. Threaten me again, and this one will lose her tongue."
Mrs. Cole's mouth snapped shut. She looked over at me, her eyebrows furrowing and eyes watering. Then she turned back to her husband. "Mark my words, Martin. This will come back to haunt you. The Lord's eternal justice will prevail." Then she marched stiff-backed out of the room.
The Commander sighed as he untied me from the chair. "Go back to your room. If you utter so much as a word about this, I will have no choice but to make good on my word, understand?"
I nodded, unable to speak. I gathered my clothes and scrambled back into my room, unable to catch my breath between voiceless screams. Unfortunately for me, I doubted this would be the only time this would happen.
The occasion of my pregnancy-Mrs. Cole's pregnancy, the Commander and his wife insisted-required a party. None of the other members of the Committee had yet to be blessed with children, and Mrs. Cole was determined to make the most of it. Exotic flowers, wines, candles, new tablecloths and drapes, and even more food were piled onto every available surface. Anne even managed to scrounge up several large turkeys for the occasion. Extra Martha's were borrowed from the neighbors.
Under Mrs. Cole's orders, I was washed and my dress freshly pressed. She led me to a cream colored couch in one of the sitting rooms, patted my hand, and ordered me to stay put like the good Russian stacking doll I was.
The doorbell rang, the first of the Commanders and Wives had arrived. A handful of blue figures swept into the room, their chatter filling the air. When they spotted me, the Wives flocked around cooing and placing their hands all over me, particularly my stomach. Only Mrs. Cole hung back. I tried to meet her eyes, but she avoided me. Ever since the incident two weeks ago, she'd stopped asking me to keep her company, instead confining me to my room. Whenever she did have to see me, she would look anywhere but at me, and spoke to James or the Martha's instead of me.
It took everything in my power not to slap away the groping hands of the Wives, to just sit there quietly while Mrs. Cole accepted the congratulations on her baby and perfectly behaved Handmaid. Eventually, the baby talk drifted away from me and onto the Coles. Were they hoping for a boy or a girl? Boy of course. How far along was I? Almost 7 weeks now. Were there any pregnancy symptoms yet? Mrs. Cole listed her own "symptoms". Where would they set up the nursery and how would it be decorated? The list went on. I was plied with food and juice. I choked down what I could, but the nausea was particularly bad today and my stomach had ached all night, much to the concern of the Wives.
Red broke through the sea of blue, and my mask of numbness broke into a faint smile. Jade was the first to approach me, and while the Wives shared looks of annoyance and disgust, none dared to discourage a Handmaid's interest in a pregnant woman.
"Congratulations, Lucy! How are you feeling?" She drew me up into a bear hug.
"Thanks, the little one's been giving me a rough time lately, but I don't mind. So long as the baby is healthy, I'll take anything." I replied once she released me. And it was true. I loved this little stranger, even though the world it was made in was hell. The Commander's newfound interest in me was unspeakable, and in between I was bored out of my mind, but here in the middle of it all was an innocent life, a life with a future, I hoped.
"Girls, girls, don't crowd her now, let her Aunt through." Aunt Claire pushed her way through the throng of women. She was smiling.
"Oh my precious girl," she proclaimed, wrapping me up in another hug. "This is a joyous day indeed, and at your first posting! You have truly proven yourself a devoted child of God." She pressed her lips to my forehead, muttering a prayer before sitting beside me on the couch.
"Are you happy, my dear?" She asked, brushing my face with her thumb.
"Yes, Aunt Claire." I said no more.
"Are you getting enough rest? Are you eating enough?"
"Of course, Aunt Claire," I lied. How could I sleep, how could I eat when I knew that at any moment the Commander could take me?
"You are awfully pale, Ofmartin. And unless I'm mistaken, you've lost weight. If there's anything wrong, anything you need, you can tell me. I'm here for you." She pressed her lips together and her brow wrinkled with concern.
"I'm fine, Aunt Claire, I've just been a little morning sick, that's all."
That seemed to satisfy her, and she gave a long sermon about foods good for morning sickness. I tried to listen to her, but my stomach was writhing. A wave of pain hit me, and I ran to the bathroom where I vomited violently. The cold porcelain felt good on my feverish face. I took a few deep breaths, splashed water on my face, and headed back to the party to be the perfect doll again.
The drawing room was quiet. I felt my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. They must've all seen me run off. The women's faces were solemn. I looked at Aunt Claire, confused. Surely my sickness wasn't something that would ruin the party? A single tear ran down Aunt Claire's cheek. Then I saw it. On the cream colored couch, right where I'd been sitting, was a patch of scarlet. Blood. My blood.