Human beings are not made for the dark. Our minds cannot accept the emptiness. We escape it as best we can through the warm embrace of sleep. At least then, we dream. Sitting alone in the dark, the room silent as a grave as I'd long cried, begged, and screamed my voice into a bloody whisper, I thought all I would ever know from then on would be darkness. I was wrong.

That red dot in what I imagined was a corner of the room loomed over me. Reason told me it was a security camera. There would be a guard watching it somewhere, probably to make sure I didn't find a way to hurt myself. The longer I sat in the dark, the more I wanted to bash my brains out against the wall or floor, just to see what they would do. It couldn't be worse than this, not even if they locked me in the Red Center, tied to a bed. The Handmaids there at least had light. But it felt useless to try, so I didn't.

My mind dwelled upon the horrifying revelations earlier that day. I'd finally allowed myself to hope. Allowed myself to believe I could escape and even bring others with me. Allowed myself to think I could make a difference. I'd believed my child would be born free. I had dared to hope, only to learn that it had all been a lie. I could picture in vivid detail Jade, Everet, and the others being tortured, many for information they did not possess.

It was hard for me to believe that Maria had known the whole time and had betrayed me to Commander Cole. We weren't close, but I hadn't thought a Martha would be so loyal to the system. Mrs. Cole had beaten and burned her, why would she choose to serve her and the Commander over another who had been abused? I remembered that night over a year ago when she had snuck into my room. Had she been searching for guilt in me then or did my rejection spur on her retaliation? If I had chosen differently that night, or if I'd made an effort to gain her forgiveness after, would I have succeeded?

There were so many times I could have made better choices to avoid this. If I'd consummated my marriage with Connor, if I had accepted the beatings from Mrs. Cole and not gotten pregnant when I still had two more assignments before being sent to the Colonies if I hadn't worked with Mayday, or if I'd better hidden the sedative. Even for all of that, if I had just kept the escape plan to myself I might have escaped.

The red dot moved. After so long with nothing but my own thoughts for company, I eagerly grasped at the stimulus. It moved again, swooping low, then to the side. It split in two before returning to the corner, lurking like the eyes of a wild animal stalking its prey. Other lights soon joined them, first as faint specters at the edges of my vision-if it can be called such. Their number and vibrancy increased until I was surrounded. Green, blue, yellow, red, white, and the faintest grey in lines and flashes, streaks and splatters.

I closed my eyes, dizzy and unnerved by the sight, but the phantom lights remained just as visible. After an indeterminate amount of time, noises joined the display. Skittering like the feet of a mouse on a stone floor, the sound of footsteps, chirping birds, rustling leaves and sometimes voices calling my name or muttering unintelligible things.

A line of bright white light broke through the sounds and colors. Maria walked in, bearing a tray of food. I squinted through the eye-stinging brightness. The chains on my hands and feet were gray, as was the paint of the room, albeit a duller shade. Maria set the tray just out of my reach and tore a roll into pieces.

"Why did you do it?" I tried to ask. The words stabbed at my throat and were so distorted that I could hardly understand myself.

If Maria understood, she didn't acknowledge it. She merely shoved a piece of bread toward my mouth. When I didn't take it, she slapped me. When I had recovered from the blow, she proffered the morsel again, and I took it in my mouth without further objection. When the last bit of food was eaten, pills taken, and the small pitcher of water empty, she left me in the dark once more. It wasn't long before the lights and sounds returned.

One would think keeping track of time would be easy, using meals as a marker. I'd done it before when Mrs. Jennings had locked me in my room. I hadn't factored in the role of daylight on my internal clock. I quickly lost count of meals, and the time between them was indeterminable.

I must have slept, but there was no distinction between waking and sleeping. After a while, the surreal images coalesced into more realistic visions. Some were outlandish like the time I was in an old grocery store like the ones before Gilead and a row of iguanas marched down the cereal aisle wearing Christmas hats. Others were harder to discern from reality, like when I was running errands with Jade. Then I woke up.

The scent of homemade spaghetti sauce filled the house. My father was away. Those were always the best days. Andrew, Joshua, and Levi didn't scold or scowl as much when he was away. Ruth was stirring the pot of sauce, it was her first time making Mom's recipe all by herself. She was so short she had to stand on a stepstool to reach the stovetop. Our chocolate lab Tim Tam sat at alert beside her, determined to leap upon the smallest smidgeon of food as always.

Mom sat next to me at the faded green kitchen table, her freckled hand guiding mine as I fed maroon fabric through our old sewing machine, removing yellow-headed pins as I went.

She smiled as I held up the fabric for her inspection, her hazel eyes shining. She was a pretty woman, even if my father hated her freckles or criticized her nose as too large. To me, her gray-streaked blond hair was a mix of silver and gold, her skin like a sky filled with constellations, and her arms the safest place to be in the whole world.

"Good, now do the same thing on the other side. You don't need my help this time," she said. It felt like the first time I'd heard her voice in years.

My eyes welled up with tears.

"What's wrong? You can do it. If you mess up we can pull out the seam and start over."

I shook my head. "I don't know what's wrong. I just…I miss you."

The edges of Mom's mouth creased with concern. "I'm right here."

She wrapped her hand around mine. I could smell her cinnamon perfume. I buried my face in her shoulder and breathed it in. Home. I was home and Mom was here and we were happy.

"Don't ever leave me," I told her.

"I'm not going anywhere," Mom promised.

Sometimes I dreamt of a cold dark room and chains around my hands and feet. My stomach would squirm like it had a mind of its own and I would scarcely be able to breathe. Sometimes I dreamt of a strange man coming into my room and doing unspeakable things to me. But then I'd drift off again and Mom was there, holding me. She was always there. It was good to be home.

A flash of blinding light ripped her away from me. My eyes burned at its brightness, even through my closed eyelids. I tried to shield my eyes with a hand, but the chains were back. My shoulders and triceps cramped from being held behind my back for so long. This nightmare was new. The lights were always off in the others.

"Put her on that table," a man said. I didn't recognize the voice.

The sound of metal on metal was followed by two pair of arms lifting me into the air onto a flat surface. Fingers pried my eyes open and an even brighter light seared into my skull. I tried to pull away, but the hands were made of steel.

Another hand pried open my mouth. I bit until stiff, bitter-tasting leather clamped over my mouth. Hands groped all over my body and inside of me.

"There is no harm to the child, as far as I can tell. Her blood pressure is elevated though, which at this stage could indicate pre-eclampsia. She ought to be monitored more closely as we may need to deliver the child early. And that is completely ignoring her mental state, if this continues much longer-" the same voice said

"Is she fit to attend?" Another man asked. I knew that voice.

"Yes, Commander, but are you sure this is necessary? The Rachel and Leah Center has facilities to accommodate difficult situations such as this. Surely this is too extreme. She'll go mad."

"She is my Handmaid, and a traitorous one at that. I don't give a damn what happens to her, so long as the child lives,"

The first man sighed. "As you wish, Commander."

Someone snapped and a sack was placed over my head. I sighed in relief as the pain eased, though it was still too bright. I was carried somewhere and I heard car doors open and close. We rode for some time.

When the car stopped and the doors opened, the sack and leather muzzle were removed and I found myself once more squinting into painful brightness, though it was no longer blinding now that my eyes had had time to adjust. We were in a field. I could tell this was a dream. The colors were too bright. The grass practically glowed an emerald green and the sky was an unnatural shade of azure. A sea of blood filled most of the field, leading up to a wooden stage at the far end.

A woman in a brown dress and cap pulled on my arm and led me into the sea. It took a moment for me to recognize her as Aunt Claire. The waves turned to look at me, revealing white-capped faces. I'd heard of fever dreams, but I hadn't thought they would be this strange. Mom would be there when I woke up though, so this was alright.

It was hard to walk in this dream. My legs felt weak and stiff. Maybe this was one of those dreams where you are running from some monster only to find out your legs won't work. It was also incredibly hot and humid. Sweat collected on my lip under the muzzle and beads rolled down my back. I looked down and found that I was covered in blood just like the sea around me. When had that happened?

When we reached the foot of the two-tiered wooden stage, I saw a row of metal poles with pointed ends near the center of the stage. They were perhaps eight feet tall at most and lined where the second story ended with four or five feet between the sharp tips on the poles and the second story. Thick beams with ropes of the end hung at the edge.

I found myself standing on the stage without remembering climbing up the steps. Many shadows trailed me. Strange. I could only make one, blindingly bright light up above. Why did I have so many shadows?

In front of me, Aunt Claire spoke to the sea. "Kneel."

The sea lowered in a wave with a rustling sound.

"Today is a dark day," the woman proclaimed. Her voice echoed across the sea. "A great evil has infected our Holy Nation, the greatest evil there is: the desire to harm a child."

With a wave of her hand, faceless shadows dragged a man in brown to the grass before the stage. He was tanned and balding and covered in blood. His arms ended in ragged stumps.

"This man has killed countless born and unborn children via poison. He caused miscarriages and stillbirths, including those of Ofluke, Ofcharles, Ofcarter, and Ofmartin. He seduced Handmaids into willfully sterilizing themselves, rejecting God's redeeming gift of fertility. They have ended countless lives before they could even begin when such beautiful new lives are most desperately needed.

The sea hissed and seethed in response to her words.

"But we must praise God today, despite the evil which befouls the very air we breathe. We must praise Him, for despite the many lives lost, one has been saved: the child Ofmartin now carries. A dutiful Martha discovered this man's sinister plot and through her, this innocent life was spared and countless others saved." Aunt Claire motioned towards me.

The sea of blood obediently praised God. The balding man was shoved by the shadows into the sea.

"And now, girls, you will have justice for your sisters and innocents! Remove your wings. Rise and form a circle. You know the rules of a particicution. You may do with this man what you will between the whistle blows."

It scarcely needs saying what follows. The sea formed a ring around the man. A whistle blew and before long, howling and wailing filled the air. Maroon splattered against crimson and white. When the whistle blew again, the sea retreated and with it, much of the gory remains that were the executed man. What remained on the emerald grass didn't look human. More like what's left of roadkill after days of cars rolling over it. Someone licked a bloody hand clean.

"You have done God's will admirably," Aunt Claire said. "But justice has not yet been satisfied. His co-conspirators yet live and must be punished."

Wood creaked overhead and the sea gasped. I turned to look and saw drops of blood and shadows above me.

Clarity.

My mother teaching me, loving me, that wasn't reality. This was. Those weren't shadows, they were hooded executioners. Behind me was not a sea, but Handmaids. And before me…was Jade.

The air whooshed out of my lungs as if I'd plunged into ice water. The hair on my arms and neck stood on end. She looked down, and we saw each other for the first time since that fateful day when everything came crashing down. The nails on her hands, now bound before her, were missing. A rusty crust had replaced them. Her skin was mottled with burns and bruises. Her face was so swollen, it was nearly unrecognizable. Her dark eyes glittered with tears.

A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. I should never have dragged her into my schemes. She'd always been afraid of something like this happening. She'd warned me time and time again and had resented me for all that I'd forced her to do. Despite all that, she'd never betrayed me. She'd endured beatings to spare me. And now she was going to die because of me. She must hate me now. I couldn't blame her, I hated myself for this too.

"I'm sorry," I mouthed. With so many people watching, I dared not say any more. It was a pathetically hollow phrase. There was so much more to say, no apology was enough.

She smiled grimly. "I forgive you," she mouthed back. "See you on the other side."

The executioners tied the ropes around Jade's chest, and then the other six in succession.

Aunt Claire spoke again. "Girls, come forward and grab the ropes. By my whistle, pull. You will release on the second whistle. Quickly now, quickly!"

She blew the whistle. The seven Handmaids were hoisted into the air over the metal poles. Several thrashed and cried out in fear. Ofjoseph begged. Jade was stoically silent.

Aunt Claire proclaimed above their cries "Thus says the Lord regarding those who support traitors of a Holy Nation as Saul did David when his corrupt reign was put to an end: 'And they impaled them upon a hill before the Lord: and they fell all seven together, and were put to death in the days of harvest.' Amen."

The whistle blew once more. The Handmaids released the ropes and Ofjoseph, Oftony, Ofgavin, Ofcarlo, Ofjohn, Ofmichael, and Jade were impaled upright on the poles. Screams of agony rang across the field. Jade's blood splattered against my face. The screams continued. With horror, I saw that only Ofcarlo had died on impact, or at least had fainted from the pain. The others writhed as gravity pulled them down and the poles pierced them from inside.

Executioners, Guardians, Aunts, and Handmaids watched mutely as they slid down the poles, long enough to note the sun's movement in the sky. One by one, the seven fell silent. Jade gasped for air beside me. The spike of the pole jutted out below her ribs. She turned to look at me, her eyes wild.

"I…I'm pregnant!" She shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear. She smiled beatifically, and her eyes glazed over.

I was shoved aside as two Guardians rushed to lift her off the spike. Aunts called for help and someone rushed forward to stop the flow of blood from Jade's body, but it was too late. Aunt Claire sobbed. I smiled.