The Journal of a Girl

#MyHandmaidsTale

This is a FAILED ENTRY as in I am not going to use it. Here you go:

I duck just under the small rock ledge covering my exposed back. It provided me at least a bit of warmth from the below freezing winds that blew over the woods. I turned just a bit, just for my head to peer over the rock, that was keeping me hidden. As I moved my hands onto the boulder, parts broke off and jutted into my wrist. As I inched closer to the other edge of the rock the shard slipped further and further into my wrist, crawling up my arm. But still I felt numb to the pain. Nothing worse than what I have been through already.
I rested my hands by my sides. Frantically thinking of what I could do to stop the bleeding . The last thing I needed was from the government to find me from a trace of my own blood.
"Logan, listen to me, come here." My twelve year old son inched closer to me, even closer than he already was.
"I need help, I need you to give me your sleeve."
Logan looks at me, his eyes fill with tears, but they weren't sympathetic to his own mother, it was for fear of the cold, the fear that his own jacket would become ruined.
Selfish
"Logan, give me your sleeve, now"
"No Rebecca, your fine! This is mine and your filthy wound can go die, at least that's how it was supposed to be."
I looked into his eyes, all in which showed no feeling. With the most calm look and tone, I eased closer to him just to a hug. Responsibly he had hugged me back, my five foot eleven stature towering above him. I slide my hands above his head patting it twice. Fastening my grip between his chin and temples I twisted until I heard a couple cracks. I eased further and further around until I could no longer feel the tension of his neck stopping me from twisting further around. I felt myself change, my face felt cold, and lifeless, like the boy who lay dead in front of me. I chuckled, and once I stopped, I only broke into harder laughter.
I just killed my son. No it was survival, I couldn't have just don't it voluntarily. I turned fully around, feeling a hand rest on my shoulder.
"It's time for us to go."
"No, I couldn't, it couldn't be over, I hadn't done anything, I couldn't just work until I dropped dead," I thought to myself. The red stained rim of my dress spoke otherwise. I hung my head low, scraping my feet across the other women who laid scattered around the woods. I saw the flames stirred in everyone's eyes, we've lost, and the world's own demise was determined based on the decision made by the suicidal rate.