Breaking but not broken.

Chapter 1

"You are beautiful." My mother held my cheek in one hand. She wiped my tears away.

Those damn words haunt me now. Being beautiful in this time was no longer an advantage, but a curse. It always lead to something bad. I thought about that special conversation while I drove across the miles and miles of uneven ground. I was currently trying to find a place to watch the sunset. The word fell violently, but the vibrant colors that were displayed nightly never ceased. If anything, they got even more alluring.
I drove up onto a sandhill, one that was a bit taller than the rest. I could look out at the everlasting sea of sand. Sadly, the one thing this sea was lacking was water. I was rested on the hood of my car and stared mindlessly up at the sky, trying to keep my mind off food. My stomach still cried for nuritousement and my mouth felt cakey. But this was not a new feeling. Finding food out in the wasteland was like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. At some point I learned to live with the constant hunger pains. Silence filled my ears and a rare calmness filled my head as the sky exploded with purples and oranges.
I twisted my silver locket between my fingers, feeling the engravings under my print. This piece of jewelry happened to be the one thing that brought peace to my aching heart and broke it even more. The fading pictures inside the scratched silver enclosure brought the remaining liquid in my body to my eyes. I blinked the salt mixture away.
After awhile I grew quite bored and decided to work on my arm brace. I picked out a screwdriver and started to tighten the loose bolt. The only reason I wore the arm brace was for protection. All I had to do was swing once and my opponent would be down for the count. I didn't usually find myself in a hand to hand combat, since my skill was with a scope and a gun, but I needed to take precautions. One could never be "too" safe out in the wasteland. Anyway, a screw was coming loose at my elbow joint and it needed to be tightened. A few twist to the right and I would be ready for a fight again. Or I should have been.
The silence faded as the hum of an engine stirred the peace. It was coming from behind me. I jumped into my car, the engine roaring to life in seconds, and I sped off the sand hill.

I could see them in my mirrors. They were approaching faster than lighting. I knew I couldn't be caught in these man's hands. It would lead to death, or something far worse. The cars came up on both sides. There were people hanging onto the cars, yelling, laughing, banging on their own cars like I was a game. One man—painted head to toe in white paint —launched a pole to the ground. A explosion was triggered and my car flipped. It rolled, tossing me around carelessly, I banged my head on something, or a couple somethings. When I opened my eyes warm sand poured into my car through the shattered window. I coughed. I longed to take a break, but that was a wasted wish. I had to keep moving. My hands carved a hole out of the broken window allowing me to pull myself out. The hysterical cackling of men forced their way into my ears, but it sounded far away. Miles and miles away.
They quickly surrounded me, 10 or 15 boys enjoying seeing me crawl on my scared hands and knees like a dog. The bottom of a boot pressed me to the ground, keeping me anchored. What did they want with me was obviously my first question. Whether I would find out before it was too late was my second question. The best chance I had at surviving, though, was compliance. I raised my hands. Mercilessly they gripped my arms and spun me onto my back. A collected gasp rang out.
"Axe, look at this." One of the painted men said.
The boy, who smelt of rotting flesh and dirt, had spotted I was a woman.
"What should we do?" Axe asked.
I held my breath, anticipating my fate.
"Bring her back to the Immortan Joe."

Who the hell was Immortan Joe? I was going to be finding out soon. I was thrown into a vehicle with my hands and feet bound. They also hitched up my car. They ogled at me like they'd never seen another person before. Maybe it was solely because I was a woman. Maybe they hadn't seen one before. They did look pretty young compared to me. They were most definitely born into this world, unlike me.
         "How you think she's survived? Being a woman and all." The one named Axe asked. Like I was a bug on the ground he squinted at me. It made me extremely uncomfortable. To be analyzed like an object instead of a person.
          "Dunno. Maybe she just looks like a girl."
        I still didn't speak. I didn't know if this car was leading to death or something worse. I wanted to jump out. To run until I was free again. Of course, with my car still being towed, I wouldn't make it far. And then my feet and hands were tied. I was stuck, metaphorically and literally. So I sat. I waited, and plotted. Because nothing was going to kill me, except myself.