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Agnes was in that room again. Every night her mind drifted back to that moment. The soft light streaming in through the curtains, Becka’s soft lips tentatively leaning in. In the darkness of her room, no one could tell what she was dreaming about. No one could see it in her face, in her eyes. Agnes knew she shouldn’t indulge in that memory, but every time she slept her mind always led her back.
One night, Agnes would wake up, twilight still streaming through her curtains. Her tongue ached, and a metallic taste flooded her mouth. The first time it happened, she cried while spitting out mouthfuls of blood. Somehow God must’ve known what she was thinking about, how it had made her feel. She knew this was her punishment, this is what girls like her deserved. Nothing less, but probably more.
Agnes had developed a bad habit of clenching her jaw, she wouldn’t notice until it was too late. Until the sharp pains searing the back of her mouth were so bad she could barely eat. The inside of her cheeks were raw from biting them. She didn’t know why she did it. Maybe it was stress, or maybe she just wanted to feel something. Agnes had never felt so numb, and yet everything seemed to make her feel. She knew she was ruined, who she had ruined herself for. Sometimes it made her feel worthless, yet she couldn’t bring herself to care.
Agnes hadn’t seen Becka in days, or weeks. It could’ve been months. She wanted to see her so badly. She wondered if Becka wanted to see her too, if she was thinking about Agnes in the same way, every night, or if she even remembered that moment. Maybe she did, but she wanted to forget it. Sometimes Agnes ached from the wondering.
She didn’t know why she hurt herself, why every time her mind wandered to Becka her teeth dug into her tongue, drawing fresh blood. Reminding herself what would happen if she kept thinking. But Agnes knew deep down it was what she deserved for being so happy Becka was saved despite what she’d done. For knowing that if she’d known what it would cost to free Becka, she’d still do it again. She hated herself for what she had done, for what she had felt. No- feels.
Even so, when Daisy asked Aunt Vidala if a visit to Becka would be possible, Agnes let herself feel hope.
“You know, Aunt, it was just a little while ago that she could see us everyday. I’m sure Becka’s a bit lonely.” Daisy said innocently.
“Well girls, I’m sure a visit would be nice for all of you.” She admitted. “Becka is adjusting to her new role as a wife, and I’m sure some time with friends will help with that.” Aunt Vidala answered, eyeing their needlework.
Agnes’ chest tightened, she bit her lip to keep herself from smiling. A bittersweet feeling flooding her body. It was hope. Yet she never let her eyes drift up from the needle darting in and out of the fabric.
Shu smiled, “Praise be! When can we see her?” She said through barely masked excitement.
“Well Daisy has my leave to go, although I’ll have to talk it over with Aunt Lydia. You and Agnes will need to have permission from your parents.” Aunt Vidala said, when Agnes looked up she saw the Aunt eye her curiously, but looked away to nod at Daisy, who was grinning and thanking her.
Just as quickly as Agnes had felt a flicker of hope, the flame was being dashed again. Paula had barely spoken to her since that night she’d seen her scrubbing the floor, on her hands and knees, eyes full of contempt. Her father was better, but he always looked at her with pity. Agnes didn’t know why, but she hated those looks even more.
When she had left school the sky was dark, clouds threatening rain at any moment. The car was being driven by a stranger. He was an older guardian, and silent. He barely looked at her. Agnes liked that.
She kept her eyes down. She didn’t want to ant lifeless bodies on the side of the road, existing there just as casually as trees. Bodies that could one day be hers, bodies that had felt pain, love, and lust, just as she had. They paid the price for it. Gilead always made sure women like that were dealt with. Agnes didn’t think anything was worth that kind of condemnation, but it wasn’t for her to decide. That right was reserved for God and the men that represented Him.
By the time the car had pulled up in front of her house, large droplets of rain were pounding on the windows so violently, she thought the glass would shatter. Her guardian opened the door, holding an umbrella over her head.
“Under His eye, Miss Agnes.” He nodded formally, and led her to the heavy oaken doors.
Inside was warm, and Agnes shivered at the sudden change in temperature, although she was glad for it. Normally she would retreat upstairs, and practice her embroidery until her fingertips were numb. Anything to keep her mind from wandering to thoughts she shouldn’t have.
But, today Rosa was standing in front of her, a plate of fruit stretched out. Like a welcome, like peace. Agnes let herself be reminded of her life before.
The Martha smiled warmly, “We’ve just received some fresh fruit today. Perhaps you’d like to enjoy some this afternoon?”
Agnes hesitated. Rosa was the only person in the house who didn’t look at her like she was broken. She realized how long it had been since she really relaxed and let her guard down. Agnes nodded, “Sure.”
She’d chose to sit in the kitchen, picking at fruit and listening to the rain patter against the window rhythmically as Rosa flitted around the kitchen. It was soothing. Therapeutic. A word Agnes hadn’t learned until much later.
“Hopefully the Lord will bless us with better weather tomorrow.” Rosa said as she chopped vegetables.
“Hopefully.” Agnes answered, wincing slightly as she chewed a strawberry.
Rosa sighed quietly, pausing her work, carefully looking around the kitchen, making sure they were alone.
“Are you doing alright?” Rosa questioned, voice laced with worry although she tried to keep it causal. Her Martha fixed her with a stern look, yet her eyes were soft.
Agnes clenched her jaw, conflicted. She just wanted to break down, to tell someone how she really felt, but she couldn’t become someone else’s burden. Like she was to her parents, to Daisy, to Becka.
“School is just hard lately. You know, without Becka.” Agnes lowered her eyes, even saying Becka’s name felt like a sin. Words tasted like ash on her tongue, she wasn’t telling the full truth, and that felt like lying. Guilt spread through her body, burning her chest.
“I understand. It’s always hard loosing friends.” Rosa said, Agnes could hear the sad smile in her voice as she walked over to the table, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her voice sounded faraway, like it usually did when she remembered her life before.
Agnes wrapped her arms around Rosa, screwing her eyes shut.
“Thank you.” She whispered, and she really meant it.
Rosa leaned down and hugged her. Agnes felt warm, she wondered if her mother used to hug her like this.
Agnes hadn’t even noticed she’d been crying until she pulled back. She wiped them shyly, picking at the fruit in front of her.
“Well,” Rosa began, “if you ever want to talk more about it, just know I’m here.” She continued to chop the vegetables, the room going quiet again. It was a nice kind of quiet, a comfortable type. The rain was still drumming against the window, but past the clouds she could see the soft sunlight straining against them.
Agnes smiled, “I know.”
-
The dreams had come again, except this time she was in the forest, running. She could feel hands pulling and grabbing her from behind. Every step felt like flying, yet she was gaining barely any distance at all.
“Hannah!” A voice screamed ahead. It sounded familiar, a foggy memory her brain struggled to remember. Her eyes searched wildly for its origin, yet all she could see was leaves and branches. The hands were getting stronger now, tugging her backwards. Agnes wanted to scream, but her throat tightened and every cry died as it was choked out of her.
Suddenly, she could feel hands on her shoulders, they were so hot her skin felt as if it was being burned. It took all of Agnes’ strength to wrench her arms free of that mysterious grip. She reached out, frantically trying to grab ahold of whoever was dragging her forward, but there was nothing. Just the trees.
The hands behind her started digging into her skin, her flesh felt like it was ripping open. Finally, she managed to scream, “Let go of me! Please! Someone help me!” Hannah pleaded until her throat was raw, then, suddenly the warmth disappeared, the hands left her shoulders. She felt a pit of dread form in her stomach as the force behind her started dragging her back.
Hannah fell forward, fingers dragging on the ground. She could feel the dirt and twigs push up under her fingernails, but she clawed through the pain. She had to run towards that warmth. She couldn’t let it go again.
“No!” She screamed helplessly, her arms straining, growing weaker. The hands were pulling her faster now, and the forest had grown dark. Suddenly they stopped. The world was quiet. Hannah was lying flat on her stomach, arms still stretched out in front of her. When she looked up, Doctor Grove was towering over her.
Agnes gasped, sucking in the cool night air. She grasped at her sheets, and tried to move upright, but she was tangled. She kicked her legs frantically until they were free, then crawled urgently to the foot of her bed. Her throat was closing and her chest felt tight as every breath came harder. She tried to push that image of Doctor Grove out of her mind and shake the feeling of those hands violating her, all in vain.
Carefully, Agnes got off the bed, her legs felt too weak, she could barely walk, so she crawled to her window, pulling out the tiny piece of paper. Agnes unfolded it, tracing her fingers across the lines, across that name. If she touched it lightly enough she could feel the indent in the paper where the word had been written. It felt like stability, like a promise, like knowing and being sure of herself. She held the paper to her chest until her breathing came more easily and closed her eyes. She focused on the warmth, on the voice. She hoped she would hear that voice again.
-
“Agnes!” Someone hissed.
Agnes jolted up as Daisy poked her side.
“That hurt!” Agnes said, too tired to add any bite to her voice. She rubbed her eyes and looked down at her mostly uneaten lunch.
“You have to stop. Seriously. I can’t let you fall asleep in front of one of the Aunts. I don’t even wanna know what they’d do to you.” Daisy hissed. The former pearl girl locked eyes with Shu, sharing a worried look between them.
Their table looked different now that Hulda and Becka were married. Their spots were filled by pearl girls, so lunch time conversations were kept to hushed voices between the girls.
Agnes wanted to be mad at her friends, but when she saw how they looked at her she only felt guilty.
“I’ve been having nightmares.” Agnes reluctantly confessed. Shu raised an eyebrow.
“About what?” She questioned, leaning forward slightly.
Agnes swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “Doctor Grove. That night.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. She just left out the other dreams she’d had.
“Pray! Lower your voice!” Shu urged, her eyes wildly looking over the other girls at their table, who all seemed to be engrossed in their own conversations. “You know we can’t trust these pearl girls.”
Daisy sighed, “You know I was a pearl girl just a few weeks ago.” She pointed out
“Yes…” Shu conceded, pursing her lips, “but you were my pearl girl. And besides, I never fully trusted you then.”
Daisy rolled her eyes, “Well I’m happy to have your confidence now!” She smiled sarcastically.
Agnes sunk into her seat, happy to have the attention drawn away from her even if it was only for a bit. Sadly, her friend’s bickering session hadn’t lasted as long as it usually did. Soon, both of their eyes were fixed on her again.
“Fuck him,” Daisy said finally, grabbing Agnes’ hand under the table. “He’s dead, and you don’t need to worry about him hurting anyone else.”
Shu nodded, “Yeah, and honestly,” She glanced around conspiratorially, “I’m glad.” She added in a whisper.
In spite of herself, Agnes laughed. The sound bubbled up inside of her, spilling out before she could stop herself. Daisy grinned, stretching an open hand across the table.
Shu squinted, eyeing her cautiously. “I’m not diseased.” Daisy sighed, exasperated. Agnes laughed again, and Shu blushed, finally reached out her hand to take Daisy’s, then offering her other to Agnes.
“Remember,” Daisy began seriously, “we have to stay strong, and stay together. It’s the only way.”
The only way for what? Agnes wondered. Becka’s fate was already decided and soon enough their time would come too. There was nothing they could do to escape marriage. Nevertheless, Agnes nodded in agreement, Daisy squeezed her hand.
“So,” Shu pulled her hands back, clearing her throat, “I talked to my father, and he said I could visit Becka!”
Agnes forced a smile, “That’s great.” She grunted, trying to sound happy. She had asked her parents the night before.
“No.” Paula growled immediately, even though her voice was quiet, it carried a dangerous edge.
Her father shook his head sadly. “Perhaps another time.”
Agnes knew there was no room for arguing.
“Well?” Shu looked at her expectantly, “What did your father say?”
“Uhm,” Agnes drew her hands back into her lap, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, “he said no.” She sighed.
“What?!” Daisy fumed, drawing stares from people at their table.
“It’s fine- really.” Agnes urged, trying to mask the disappointment in her voice. “Besides, if you and Shu go and see how well Becka’s doing, my father might agree to let me see her next time.”
“By Gods grace he must!” Shu scoffed, “You’re closest to Becka out of all of us. If she needs to see anyone it’s you.”
Agnes felt a sudden pang of sadness in her chest. Maybe her and Becka were close before, but after she’d lied and gotten her friend taken she wasn’t sure anymore.
Daisy nodded, a strange look in her eyes as she carefully regarded Agnes. “We’ll go as soon as we can.” Daisy assured her.
-
Sleep came easily for Agnes that night. The tea Rosa gave her had a soporific effect, as well as soothing the aching in her jaw and mouth.
Sadly, it did not prevent Agnes from dreaming.
Tonight, was back in the court room, this time it was empty. Instead of being seated above, watching the wedding, she was in the middle of it. Becka was standing across from her, smiling through her veil.
When Agnes was little she used to dream of her and Becka dressed in white. Their wedding day. The commanders faces were always blurry, strange figures with empty smiles. Agnes never concerned herself with imagining them.
Becka hadn’t said anything, but Agnes understood her, just by looking at her.
I love you.
Agnes wanted to say it back, but just as she opened her mouth she could feel those cold hands pressing into throat again. Restricting her. Punishing her. She moved her hands up to her throat, desperately trying to tear them away.
“It’s okay.” Becka whispered comfortingly. Agnes hadn’t noticed before, but Becka was crying.
The shorter girl placed her hand on the back of Agnes’ neck, rubbing it soothingly until she felt the cold hands retreat. Agnes closed her eyes, feeling Becka’s hands run over her skin, again and again.
She took a deep breath, and moved get hands to Becka’s waist. Every point of connection between their bodies was like electricity.
Agnes couldn’t stop herself. She was leaning in again. It was like watching a car accident in slow motion, she couldn’t prevent it from happening, the forces were too strong, they had to collide. She knew she shouldn’t want her this much. She shouldn’t be selfish.
But Becka looked at her with eyes almost pleaded. She wanted to see how it felt too.
Agnes’ lips met Becka’s, and warmth spread through her body. Finally, for one moment she felt right, she was here with Becka and everything would work out.
Until there was darkness again.
Agnes shot up in her bed, breathing heavily. She hated how she felt, how heat pooled inside of her, how her chest burned with want.
Her tongue was stinging, and soon she was walking to the bathroom again. Her bare feet stepping on the cool tiles. Tiles that had once been smeared with blood. It should’ve left more of a stain, she told herself, wondering why it didn’t.
She was spitting into the sink, clear water rushing into the basin, turning gloopy red blood to pink. Washing it down so easily.
Tears burned in her eyes, Agnes retched and heaved as she kept spitting. She pounded her fists onto the marble as a sudden rage overtook her, a dull muffled thud echoing in the room. She whimpered as the tears spilled down her face, her chest beginning to hurt from the strain of pushing them out.
She hated herself. She hated God. She hated Gilead.
She told herself she didn’t deserve this life. She had a nice home, her father cared for her. She never wanted for anything. Except…
Agnes was hunched over the basin, struggling for breath. The water still gushed from the tap, yet it barely made a sound as it moved in a smooth stream down the drain. The water was no longer red. It wasn’t even pink. If only Agnes could wash her sins away as easy as that.
Her throat was raw and her head was pounding. She could feel her eyes grow heavy as she stared at herself in the mirror.
Look at yourself.
The feelings of shame were sharp. Was this really the person she wanted to become? Consumed by self loathing and haunted why what could’ve been. She was too young to be this jaded. Deep down, Agnes knew there was no way she could’ve been truly happy. Not in Gilead, at least.
If Agnes couldn’t even control herself, then she had nothing. She didn’t want to doubt herself anymore, to feel like all she did was poison people’s lives. But sometimes it felt like all she could do.
When she couldn’t bear to look at herself anymore, she staggered back to her bed in a sleepy daze. As soon as her head hit the pillow she fell into a dreamless slumber.
-
Agnes was woken up delicately. She thought it was another dream at first, it felt too good to be true. For the first time in a while, she felt rested. Sleep wasn’t tugging on her eyelids, and her mind wasn’t clouded by fog.
The light seemed to stream from her curtains a little brighter this morning, and her mouth wasn’t aching like it usually did after a bad night.
It felt strange to feel this normal, and Agnes almost felt guilty for feeling so good. She dressed, then her Martha came in to pin her hair up.
It was almost paradoxical. After yet another night of torturing herself with thoughts of Becka and bloody bathrooms, she woke up feeling the best she had in ages. Maybe it was because she knew what would be happening today.
Daisy and Shu had gone to see Becka the day before, and even though it hurt knowing she wasn’t with them, any news about Becka would be enough for her.
Agnes made her way downstairs as Rosa was setting the table.
“Blessed day, Miss Agnes.” Rosa greeted her, pouring orange juice into a glass.
“Blessed day,” Agnes grinned, “and thanks for that tea, it worked very well.” She said as she took her seat at the table.
“I’m glad it did,” Rosa smiled back, “it seems like He has brought good weather this morning as well.”
She was right. Even though it was early in the morning, and the sun hadn’t completely rose yet, Agnes could tell there would be no clouds in the sky.
Agnes tried to eat as quickly as she could. The excitement building up was almost too much to bear anymore, all feelings of being of being angry that she couldn’t see Becka were almost forgotten. All she wanted right now was what she could get, and if all that could be was words from Daisy and Shu, she would take it.
-
Agnes and the other plums filed into the classroom, shuffling towards her usual spot. Daisy was already there, the look on her face was impassible as she organized the different colored spools of thread in front of her.
“Daisy,” Agnes began as she took her seat, trying to keep any hint of desperation out of her voice, “how’s Becka?” She leaned forward slightly, almost conspiratorially.
Daisy looked up grimly, biting her lip and shaking her head slightly, “She’s not doing very well.” She sighed heavily.
Agnes felt her heart drop. Deep down, she’d known what Daisy would say, but she hoped it wouldn’t be true. She knew it was her fault Becka was suffering. Agnes was responsible for the life Becka didn’t want to live, all because of her own selfishness.
“What? How?” Agnes pleaded, she clenched her jaw and clutched her embroidery so hard her knuckles turned white. Her mood from earlier that morning had soured, and was being replaced with fear.
Before Daisy could answer, a considerably more cheerful Shu greeted them.
“Blessed day girls.” She waved, sitting delicately next to Daisy, who was gaping at Shu as she pulled materials out of her backpack.
Shu looked up, seeing Agnes’ teary expression, and Daisy’s grim one. She suddenly became serious, “You’ve told Agnes?”
“In the middle of it.” Daisy grunted, she lowered her voice and nodded towards Aunt Este, a sign of warning. There were ears everywhere.
Agnes huffed, her slight annoyance at the interruption had distracted her from the nagging sense of fear tugging at her.
“So how did it go?” Agnes questioned again despairingly, worrying her lip between her teeth.
“When we got there, she wasn’t dressed,” Daisy started, “I don’t know if she’s been eating…Garth brings her food, but…” She trailed off.
“She’s not eating?!” Agnes exclaimed, that nagging feeling of fear was pulling on her throat, slowly strangling her.
Daisy shook her head, worry etched in her features.
“I don’t think she’s left the house either,” Shu answered, “but we made her sit outside with us for a bit.” She added hastily after seeing Agnes’ horrified expression.
“She seemed to be doing better when we left.” Shu offered hopefully.
Agnes couldn’t help the tear that fell onto her cheek, it was only one, but she still felt weak. She hated knowing that Becka was suffering, all Agnes wanted to do was be with her, yet she was helpless.
She couldn’t help the thoughts in the back of her mind that maybe Becka didn’t want her help anymore, or worse, Becka thought Agnes didn’t want her anymore, that she was too much trouble. It’s the other way around. I’m too much trouble. She wished Becka would just leave her alone, that she wouldn’t risk so much for her.
Shu gave her a worried look, and Agnes wiped the tear away, a new realization making anger bubble up inside of her, “Where was Garth? Becka has no one,” Agnes spat, unable to control the quivering in her voice, “he won’t even help his wife? He’s supposed to take care of her.” She finished, fiercely stabbing her needle in and out of the fabric, trying to distract herself from tears stinging the back of her eyes, threatening to fall.
“I think he’s doing all he can.” Daisy said softly, slowly reaching out to place a hand on Agnes’ shoulder. It was firm, and grounding. It was all she could do while the aunts watched them.
“I don’t care. It’s not enough.” Agnes protested. She deserves more than that. It was on the tip of her tongue. But she couldn’t say it, not to Daisy’s searching eyes and Shu’s sympathetic looks. She didn’t want them to know, to see how Agnes felt almost dirty saying those words. How she felt unclean every time she thought about Becka.
Agnes was mad at Garth, for all the trouble she’d went to, sneaking to him at night, practically begging him to marry Becka…she’d even confessed to him. After doing so, Agnes felt strangely hollow, she didn’t know why, it felt like watching a story build up, but ending right before the big climax could be reached. It was disappointing. She’d put everything on the line, and he sat by doing nothing.
Of course Garth didn’t have to do anything, but he did. Now he’d made vows to Becka, to protect her, and stand by her, to care for her. He had a responsibility to her, and he wasn’t fulfilling it. Agnes couldn’t help but think about what she would do if she were him. If she had slipped that ring on her finger. If she had made those vows to Becka. If she’d been the one to marry her.
A high pitched bell chimed, snapping Agnes out of her thoughts.
“Alright girls, gather your things.” Aunt Este’s voice rang out. Girls dressed in plum began to file quietly out of the room. Daisy glared over all of them, her cautious eyes analyzing everything.
She grabbed Agnes’ shoulder urgently, protectively, “She asked about you, by the way.” Daisy said in a hushed voice.
Agnes paused and turned around, jaw wide, to be met with sad, knowing eyes.
“What did she say?” Agnes could only whisper desperately, hopefully.
“She wants to see you, and she wants to know if you’re okay.” Daisy whispered, shoving the last of her embroidery into her bag.
“Girls!” Aunt Este scolded sternly as she swatted at the group, Daisy earning a whack on her shoulder, “You all have classed to get to, you better get moving. Under his eye.”
Agnes hurried to fit the last of her things into her bag before the aunt herded them out into the bustling hallway, giving them one last severe look.
“That hurt.” Daisy remarked regretfully as she rubbed her sore shoulder.
“Well, you deserved it.” Shu countered with a smirk.
“Shut up! You’re so annoying.” Daisy retorted, playfully bumping her side into the other girl, who humphed in response.
Agnes tuned out their bickering, her body was still buzzing from Daisy’s words. Becka wanted to see her, she’d cared enough to ask. That meant Becka was thinking about her. After everything they’d been through, Becka still cared. She never stopped.
In that moment, Agnes decided push away those feelings of sadness and guilt, she had to focus on one thing. She had to find some way to see Becka. Agnes had to move mountains before, she could do it again. For her.
-
The dinner table was silent again, save for the scraping of the utensils on plates and the occasional muted thud of glasses on the table.
“Dad,” Agnes began, determined, yet still nervous, “I have a question.” She swallowed.
“Mhm?” The commander, initially inattentive, nodded between bites of his food.
“Daisy and Shunnamite were able to see Becka yesterday. They said she wasn’t adjusting to married life very well and-“
“Agnes,” Paula cut in unkindly, “Your father asked what your question was, not for a story.” Even though she made her words out to be gentle, they were still cutting. It took all of Agnes’ power not to glare at her stepmother or tell her to shut up.
Her father sighed defeatedly and gave Paula a tired look, which in turn made her back down a bit.
“Well,” Agnes started shakily, still recovering from the interruption, “I thought if I visited her, maybe I could help her feel better.” She finished, looking hopefully at her dad, who was now furrowing his eyebrows and gazing thoughtfully at his plate.
“I think that may be a good idea.” He said finally, “She’s just lost her parents too, God, I do feel bad for the girl. Especially under those circumstances.” He sighed and shook his head before saying, “I’ll reach out to her husband tomorrow and arrange a visit. How does that sound?”
Agnes smiled triumphantly, “That sounds great. Thank you so much.”
She felt as if a weight had just been lifted off her shoulders. Finally, she thought. That time without Becka had been torturously long, and she already feared for the time that may pass between her next visit after this one would be finished.
She glanced at Paula, who squinted at her scrutinizingly and looked as if she wanted to say something, but she kept quiet. Good. Agnes smiled into her plate, excitement rushing through her body like electricity.
Even before bed, Agnes’ body was still buzzing in anticipation. She couldn’t stop thinking about the moment she would first see Becka’s face. She wondered how Becka would feel seeing her for the first time after everything.
Maybe she’d be happy, and smile. Agnes missed her smile. She hoped she could hear Becka laugh again too, she missed her laugh. She wanted to be the cause of it.
Agnes wanted to let Becka be Becka, and do all the things that would make her happy, again and again. Agnes wanted a choice in being able to love Becka openly, when she had no choice in how she felt about her to begin with.
Falling asleep was harder tonight, but it didn’t mean Agnes wasn’t dreaming.
-
“Becka,” Agnes breathed. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Becka was here with her. Agnes smiled, but the look Becka gave her was nothing but contempt.
“Why would you do that to me?” Becka spat, anger in her eyes. Her look felt like daggers, and her words twisted it into her heart.
“I-I’m sorry, I-“ Agnes pleaded, reaching out to touch Becka.
Her friend pulled away from her touch, “No. You’re not.” She countered, “You ruined me. You almost got me killed.” Her voice lowered dangerously, a warning.
Agnes shook her head desperately, “I didn’t mean to. I love you.”
Becka ignored her, “Remember how we’re supposed to leave everything behind? I tried. I thought you were normal.” Her eyes were filled with betrayal. Agnes couldn’t bear to look at Becka’s eyes, not when she could see the hatred in them.
“I’m your friend.” Agnes challenged, her heart was beating so hard her chest hurt. This isn’t Becka. It can’t be her.
“Is that really what you want?” Becka tilted her head, a cruel smile on her lips, eyes boring into her soul as if she knew everything dark secret it held.
Becka suddenly advanced on Agnes menacingly, “Do it again. Don’t you want to?” She dared, her voice was syrupy sweet. It was mocking.
“I won’t.” Agnes said firmly, standing her ground against the other girl, who had now wrapped her arms around her neck. She wanted to push her away badly, but she couldn’t hurt Becka, even if it wasn’t really her.
“Why?” Becka frowned, “Is it because it’s unnatural? Is it because you hate me?” Her eyes were filling with tears now. Agnes felt naked under her stare, it was as if Becka could see all her insecurities, she knew what a monster Agnes was. Hiding in plain sight.
“I don’t.” Agnes insisted. She didn’t like this. She didn’t like the way Becka was looking at her.
“Then why would you turn me into that? A gender traitor?”
The word echoed through her ears, through her body. It landed heavily and cruelly inside of her, but Agnes knew it was true.
“I’m sorry!” Agnes repeated tearfully. Finally, carefully untangling herself from Becka’s grip, putting distance between them.
“I don’t care. I know what you are now.” Becka rasped, laughing viciously as Agnes urgently backed away even farther, almost loosing her balance as she stumbled backwards. Agnes remembered Paula, she remembered doctor Grove and how small they’d made her feel. She hated how she was reminded of them.
“Stop!” Agnes shouted, “Get away from me!” She begged. The room was darker now, and the walls were getting smaller, closing in. There was nowhere to hide.
“You’re not Becka.” Agnes insisted. Becka wasn’t cruel, she didn’t mock. Becka was understanding and kind, she’d never make Agnes feel this way.
“Just look at what you did to me, Agnes.” Becka shook her head, slowly walking to her. Agnes was rooted in place, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to move, she couldn’t.
“No, no, I helped you Becka.” Agnes protested. She felt weak and exposed as Becka looked at her, disgust in her eyes.
Becka placed her hands on Agnes’ shoulders again. Her grip was bruising this time, and her fingers felt cold. When Agnes turned her head, she saw Becka’s hands were dark shadows, she gasped in spite of herself.
The shorter girl smiled ruthlessly, “You can keep telling yourself that…if it helps you sleep at night.”
Suddenly, Agnes’ feet were wet. She was knee deep in a pool of blood. Becka, who was now dressed like an aunt, pushed down on her shoulders. Agnes wanted to fight back, but she struggled to even move her arms.
Soon, she was completely submerged. It was too dark to see anything above the surface, but she knew Becka was smiling, laughing.
Deep down, Agnes knew this was the fate she deserved, so she couldn’t hurt anyone else. It almost felt comforting knowing that Becka was the one doing it.
Agnes’ lungs burned as air slowly left her body, but instead of panicking she succumbed to the feeling. If she would die here, let her. Let her drown in her own grief and regrets by the hand of the girl she loves most. Gilead would offer her fates harsher than this one. Agnes should be glad she was granted this kindness.
Agnes gasped into her pillow, struggling to breathe as the sheets tangled around her limbs, binding her to the bed. She twisted and turned until she was free, finally sitting up. The room was still dim, yet dusky light pressed against her blinds, indicating the early morning hour. Agnes pressed a hand to her chest and felt her heart thumping wildly.
Her first instinct was to find that paper, but she was too worn out from her dream to rise out of bed. Instead, she remembered a distant voice.
It was hazy, and soft, loving, and nurturing. She wondered if that was really what her mom had sounded like. It felt strange to call her that. Mom.
Well, she couldn’t call her June either. Agnes didn’t even know her.
She sat in her bed, legs crossed uncomfortably beneath her with hands pressed over her chest, feeling her heart’s wild beats slow as she pressed play on that memory over and over again. She could almost hear a man’s voice too. But maybe Agnes was just imagining things.
When her body finally calmed, she dropped back into bed. The mattress beneath her felt strangely cool, but also a bit damp from sweat. She shuddered at as chilly air washed over her body, but she didn’t want to pull the sheets back over herself and get wrapped up in fiery, stifling warmth again.
Anxiety nipped at her as she remembered the dream. Becka’s face was burned into her memory, every time Agnes closed her eyes she could see that look of disgust, no matter how hard she tried to forget it.
She was scared that perhaps her dreams held some shred of truth, she’d dreamed about doctor Grove before, about her real mother, no matter how warped their faces were or how horrifyingly real it felt, it had still happened. Maybe Becka’s feelings were a reality too.
Agnes hoped with everything inside of her that Becka wouldn’t scorn her, she’d asked about her after all, she had to be a little worried.
Hoping was dangerous these days. A luxury Agnes couldn’t afford anymore. She saw how Daisy believed so easily things could be better, and she was jealous. How could Diasy be so hopeful? Maybe it was because she saw the world outside of Gilead, she’d seen how good things could get. Agnes was jealous of that too.
-
Agnes’ leg bounced impatiently in the backseat as she watched trees whip by her window. She tried to focus on taking deep breaths as the scenery began to get more familiar. She was close. The thought both scared and excited her.
Trees started to turn into red brick houses, and soon she could see Becka’s house in the distance. The car began to slow, and then stop.
Agnes clenched her jaw as she waited for her guardian to open the door. When he arrived, Agnes’ anxiety only grew. The walk to the front door was tortuously long. She noticed how quiet the house seemed. The curtains were drawn, and there were no signs of any Marthas. Agnes wouldn’t be surprised to found out the house wasn’t even inhabited at all.
Her guardian knocked on the wood door. Agnes strained her ears to catch some sounds of voices, or shuffling feet, but there were none.
Finally, the handle twisted, Agnes’ breath caught in her throat.
Garth pulled the door open, his expression blank and his eyes hard, his smile was restrained, but not unkind.
“Agnes,” he said quietly, then, seemingly snapping out of a trance, he remembered his manners, “Blessed day.” His features brightened slightly, for a moment she was reminded of when he was a guardian.
“Blessed day Commander Chapin.” Agnes bowed her head, repeating the courtesies almost robotically. She realized this was the first time she’d seen Garth since the wedding. Her new guardian smiled at Garth and shook his hand. They must’ve been friends.
“Becka’s inside.” He jerked his head back, “There’s some tea waiting in the living room.” He gave her a curt nod, and stepped aside in the doorway to let her walk through.
Agnes had been in Becka’s house dozens of times, she’d run through the halls, eaten in the kitchen, whispered secrets in the garden, but this time, she felt like a stranger. This was a house, not a home. But was it ever really that either?
The lights were dimmer, and it even smelled different. Agnes was unsettled after only seconds in the house. She couldn’t imagine how Becka must’ve felt, especially after loosing her mother.
Agnes wandered into the living room, eyes falling immediately to a girl sitting quietly on a chair in the corner.
“Becka.” Agnes all but whispered, her voice weak. She slowly stepped towards the girl, who had now risen from her seat.
“Agnes.” Becka breathed, like she couldn’t believe it. She fell into her arms almost immediately, Agnes held her, stabilized her. Agnes could feel Becka relax in her arms, she wished she could stay that way forever. It almost felt like before.
Becka reluctantly pulled back, meeting Agnes’ eyes, her stare was intense, almost searching. Becka looked at her with half lidded eyes for what could’ve only been seconds, yet it felt like hours. Agnes wanted to say something, but Becka blushed and untangled herself awkwardly, eyes fixed on the ground. Agnes couldn’t help but be disappointed at the loss of warmth.
“Maybe you should sit.” Becka offered, when she’d put an appropriate distance between her and Agnes, waving at a small couch next to the chair and a table between them set with tea cups.
“Yeah.” Agnes agreed quickly, sitting across from Becka. Her friend took the teapot from the table and poured some of the fragrant liquid into two porcelain cups. As she poured the tea, Agnes studied her face. Becka looked different. Her hair was down, free in a way it hadn’t been allowed to be before, but her eyes were slightly sunken in, colored slightly purple underneath.
Silence descended quickly as the girls sipped their tea. Agnes noticed the pictures of Becka’s father had been taken down, they hadn’t been replaced though. There was only one new photo of Becka and Garth staring unsmiling into the camera. It was placed on a table in the corner, as if they
wanted to hide it.
Agnes swallowed, eyes flitting back to Becka, “Your house looks nice as always.”
The other girl looked up, smiling hollowly, “Thanks.” Becka said curtly, stirring her tea.
“And everything’s okay?” Agnes questioned, remembering what Daisy had said about Becka before. Agnes was glad she looked better than what Daisy had described, but she was still worried Becka was just trying to put Agnes at ease.
Becka bristled, “No.” she answered quietly, raising her eyes from her cup, an honest stare challenging Agnes’ worried one. Agnes opened her mouth to question the other girl, but Becka beat her to it.
She shrugged, “Garth has been kind, at least.” She resumed absentmindedly stirring her tea, but her voice had almost challenged her.
A million words hung between the girls. She remembered Becka’s mom, this had been her house too, she’d probably sit in this very spot, talking to Becka about her day.
“That’s good.” Agnes said earnestly, trying to ignore the question hanging in the air between them, almost suffocating. Did she still have feelings for Garth? If you’d asked Agnes months ago she would’ve thought her feelings would never leave. Now she wasn’t sure.
She watched Becka swallow as she began to pick at her nail beds again. It was a nervous habit Becka had since childhood. Agnes remembered when she’d catch her friend picking them bloody, she’d hold her hands tight to steady her. Agnes wished she could do it again. She scooted closer, becoming acutely aware of how much space separated them, she thought it was too much.
“Agnes?” Becka asked, moving up a bit in her chair, “How are you?” Her eyes were wider, curious, and hopeful.
Agnes didn’t want to let Becka down or worry her. She didn’t want to tell her about her dreams, how every time she stepped in her house she felt suffocated, how she ached with a new longing for life outside of Gilead, what-ifs plaguing her thoughts and memories.
Agnes swallowed her tea, trying not to look uneasy, “It’s been…different. Without you.” She answered, honestly. “It’s hard to get used to not seeing you every day. I miss it.” She shrugged, setting her cup down. Agnes thought she saw Becka’s cheeks turn pink, and a ghost of a shy smile on her face. But maybe it was just the light. Becka looked pale, Agnes hoped she was eating.
“It’s been the same for me,” Becka sighed mournfully, “I miss you, and Shu, and Hulda. I know it’s bad because sometimes I even miss Daisy.” Becka shifted, visibly relaxing as they fell into a familiar beat. Agnes forgot how nice it was to just sit with Becka. To be alone with her.
Her mind drifted to the last time they were alone together. She shook her head slightly, as if to erase the memory from her mind.
“But it doesn’t get too bad for you? Does it?” Agnes asked worriedly, remembering the state Shu and Daisy had described seeing her in.
Becka looked away, she was closing herself off again.
“Not anymore,” she started, voice tight, “Just thinking of my mother-“ she stopped herself, tears welling in her eyes, “it’s just hard to get out of bed sometimes.” She finished, laughing a bit, as if she was trying to put Agnes at ease.
“Stop.” Agnes said suddenly, she had rose from her seat on the couch. Becka looked up, eyes wide.
“You don’t have to set walls up for me,” Agnes pleaded, she walked over to Becka, squeezing in next to her, “You can trust me. You know I’d never hurt you, Becka. I need you to be better, I want you to be honest.” Agnes had taken up Becka’s hands, soothing her fingers over her cuts. Becka hadn’t looked up, her eyes trained on where their hands met.
“If I’m honest with you, it’ll only hurt you even more.” Becka answered, tearfully.
“You won’t.” Agnes insisted, tightening her grip slightly, as if to prove her words. “The only way you could hurt me is if you leave.” Becka laughed, genuinely this time. Agnes felt a surge of pride.
“You know I’d never do that.” The shorter girl answered, finally meeting Agnes’ eyes. Becka’s cheeks were wet, and Agnes’ first thought was how much she wanted to wipe those tears away.
“And I wouldn’t let you.” Agnes laughed, playfully bumping Becka’s side.
Becka sniffed, her face suddenly serious. Agnes felt her heart skip a beat. Becka moved closer, head tilted up so she could look at Agnes.
“I need you to tell me something.” Becka begged, her eyes wide and solemn.
“What?” Agnes furrowed her brows, an uneasy feeling slowly dripping into her stomach. She hoped it wasn’t showing on her face.
“Tell me I didn’t dream it.” Becka said, more of a statement than a question. Her voice sounded far away, and her eyes stared at something in the distance Agnes couldn’t see.
“Dream what?” Agnes flinched. She remembered that room. She’d dreamed about it, that moment. Whether she was asleep or awake it was always in the back of her mind, eating away at her.
“Before my wedding,” Becka swallowed, suddenly becoming apprehensive, her voice had a fearful edge to its “You came to see me, and…” she trailed off, eyes down too.
Agnes leaned in again, “Please Becka.” Agnes pleaded, her voice lowered. She didn’t know what she was begging for. Forget it. Let me do it again. Tell me you want it to.
Agnes moved her hands from Becka’s, letting them slowly drift up her arms. “I need to feel it again. I don’t want to forget what it was like.” She implored, hands moving to Becka’s waist. She didn’t stop her.
“I can’t let you.” Becka lamented, “I can’t ruin you again. It’s my fault.” Becka shook her head, even as she leaned forward slightly.
Agnes felt shame for wanting it so much. She’d spent the last month regretting her decision, for putting Becka in this situation. Yet, when she was faced with it again, she crumbled to her selfish desires. She wasn’t strong enough to resist.
“You can’t blame yourself.” Agnes all but whispered, staring into Becka’s hooded eyes.
The shorter girl didn’t answer. Instead, she brushed the gap between them. Agnes closed her eyes, letting Becka softly press her lips against hers. Agnes savored the feeling, she wished they could stay like that forever, pretending there wasn’t a war raging outside the windows, like they were the only two human beings left on earth. Cynically, Agnes wondered if that was the only way they could be happy.
Becka pulled away, but Agnes instinctively chased her lips. She could feel Becka smile against her lips. She wondered if this was what life was about. Not servitude, but devotion, on her own terms. Agnes let herself believe in this moment that she wasn’t sinning, because if she was, then why did kissing Becka feel so good, so pure?
This time, Agnes drew back, slightly out of breath. She wanted to look at Becka, to remember her face just as it was now. Slightly flushed, bathed in soft sunlight.
“I think I’m going to miss that feeling,” Becka admitted as she curled into Agnes’ side, “I don’t want you to leave.”
“I don’t either.” Agnes agreed.
“Things will get better.” Agnes assured her.
“How?” Becka asked softly. Agnes could feel every rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.
In truth, Agnes hadn’t thought that far. She hadn’t even dared to let herself dream of a life outside of Gilead. She didn’t even know how she could exist outside of this place. But, she knew someone was waiting for her. That was enough. It was enough for hope. A thought to drive her through when the nightmare spilled into her waking life.
“I’ll figure it out.” Agnes said plainly, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.