We All Bleed The Same

Punishment

This room is cold. I am only given a thin sheet to cover with at night. It is a punishment, I suppose, for my unfit behaviour. It could have been worse. I could have had something cut off or gouged out, but Mother loves me too much to let that happen. Instead, I am locked up in the highest tower of the house and am only fed once a day. They keep the tallest windows propped open so that a draft comes in, but not open enough that I could jump out of them. Not that I would.

The Martha comes by three times a day. I think she feels sorry for me. She comes once to bring my food, and twice to let me use the toilet. Sometimes, if Mother is in a good mood, I am able to take a bath. I like those days the best, because I am out of the room for twenty minutes. It is freedom.

If I pull the chair to the back window and climb up on it, I can see out into the gardens. I like to watch Mother tend to the flowers in the greenhouse and shuffle through the snow for her morning walk. She seems sad. Once, she saw me peeking. I thought I would get into trouble, but she only gave me a pitiful smile before continuing her walk. Her eyes look dead.

There have been many uprisings as of late. Security has gotten much tighter and there are more hangings. I don't ever look out of the front window of the tower. There are too many Handmaids, Martha's and Wives that are hanging from trees, garage doors, and windows. Sometimes, I wonder what they did to get into so much trouble. Maybe they were bad like me. Maybe even worse.

We have a Handmaid. She is always getting herself into trouble, but they only punish her enough to keep her around, just like me. She is valued for what she is able to provide to Gilead. I am too young to do the same, but my punishments are only severe enough so that I can be preserved for later use when I come of age. Then they will marry me off to someone and I will be able to serve my purpose.

Sometimes I pray. I try to remember to do it every night, but I have forgotten to do many things. I pray to get away to Canada, where it is safe. I pray that I can see my real parents again, even though I know they were killed. I even pray that Mother can come to Canada with me, because she is sad and wants to get out too. But, I confuse myself when I pray for that because I don't know if she is on their side or ours.

The Aunt comes to visit me in the room once in a while. I don't know why. Maybe they want to make me a Handmaid, too. She smiles when she sees me and asks questions about how I feel. I always lie and say I feel sorry for my behaviour. She seems to like that answer. She asks me when I want to come out and I lie about that too. I say I will only come out when I am allowed to. Shes always satisfied when she leaves.

I dont know how long I've been up here. Maybe a week, maybe a month. I haven't paid much attention to that. I pay more attention to the cries in the streets, the fires in the cars and houses, and the eerie silence of the house. Something bad is happening down there, but I am confined to this tower, locked away from it all.

Perhaps my punishment is not really a punishment. Perhaps Mother is only pretending to keep me safe and away from the chaos below. I was bad, but not bad enough to still be trapped up here. Now she is the one who is misbehaving. She is playing pretend to protect me. She loves me, but her love will only get her into much more trouble than me.