James continued to spend more time at work more than he did at the Manor. The only time I saw him was in the evenings when we shared his bed for marital relations. Despite Dr. Winthrop's words, sexual intercourse with James never seemed to get any better. If anything it became increasingly harder to cope with his body on mine when I knew the despicable things he had done. I had to find creative ways to occupy my mind during the act so that I wasn't focused on the disgust I felt at seeing my drunken, murderous husband hovering over me.

More often than not, my mind drifted to Ruby and the precious, stolen moments we had when we were alone in the house. Sometimes, if I closed my eyes, I could temporarily forget about James and our dysfunctional marriage, and dreamed of a world where Ruby and I could be together, our affection on display for the world to see and not just a secret rendezvous kept hidden in Moberly Manor. How grand it would be to openly love whomever I wanted without fear of retribution. Thinking of such an idealistic reality made the hours when I wasn't in Ruby's presence a little more bearable.

In a moment of vulnerability, as I laid in Ruby's ivory arms one late summer morning, I admitted to her the outlandish fantasy that often sometimes crossed my mind.

"I'm not delusional; I know that it will never actually happen and that it's foolish to dream of such things," I said, a deep blush heating my face. "But it helps me push through when things are tough. During James' whippings, memories of Caleb's death, the heartache of leaving my parents behind, or moments of lonliness, dreaming of how things could be gives a small fraction of light to help me through the darkest moments."

"It doesn't sound foolish to me," Ruby said, running her finger across my scarlet cheek. "It sounds like a dream come through. What I wouldn't give to be able to hold your hand in public," she said, interlocking her hand in mine. "To kiss you when and where I pleased." Her coral lips pressed gently against mine. "To let the world know that I love you, and only you."

I started at the words. It was the first time someone other than my parents had told me they loved me. Not once in the nearly eight months of marriage had James uttered the words, nor had I wanted him to. The words could never be as meaningful coming from James as they were coming from Ruby's sweet lips.

But I knew, somehow, long before that moment, that I felt the same way for Ruby as she felt for me. Though I fought it, I knew it then, on that day so long ago, when she'd wiped the blood from my broken nose in the downstairs bathroom. I had an attraction for her from the very beginning, an illogical and unfathomable connection that couldn't be explained. The rose-colored glasses were gone and I was no longer walking this world blind. I could finally see things the way they really were.

"I love you, too, Ruby," I said with a smile, leaning forward to give her a gentle kiss.

In a way, it seemed like I'd loved her all along. Husband or no husband, forbidden or not forbidden, from the very beginning, it was always meant to be Ruby who had my whole heart.

***************

I quickly came to dread my doctor's appointments more and more with each passing visit. As the months continued to come and go, I maintained little faith that I would become pregnant. There was always a dark cloud hanging over me on the evenings when I had to break the news to James, who grew surlier as the months went by. The resulting reprimands varied from things as small as withholding my meals or forcing me to kneel on the ground in prayer for hours at a time, to extensive whippings and flinging me about the room as though I were a rag doll.

Other than my doctor's appointments, the only other time I left the house was on Sunday mornings when I had to go to church. It was conflicting to sit in the pews and listen to the preachers' sermons, knowing how much he would disapprove of the things I was doing behind closed doors. I still loved God and felt that he loved me back, despite what the Bible said about my unholy feelings for Ruby. Nothing else had changed- I was still the same person inside that I had been before my Awakening. The fact that I felt strongly for Ruby didn't change the conviction I had in my heart. But this logic didn't stop the conflicting emotions I felt as I praised Him, unsure if he still accepted me for who I was now- who I'd always been deep down.

Throughout the service, my eyes would subconsciously scan the congregation, searching for Charlotte. It was a habit, at this point, to check up on my lifelong friend, to scrutinize her to see if any further harm had come her way. Charlotte hadn't contacted me since our impromptu meeting when she told me she was pregnant. Since then, she refused to meet my curious eyes and always darted from the building the moment the sermon was over. Though it pained me to think that she was purposefully ignoring me, after what happened with Caleb, I felt like maybe this was for the best. I'd done enough damage already; I didn't want to risk her getting hurt, too.

Though I'd never really wanted children, I couldn't help but feel a hint of envy as Charlotte's stomach grew larger and larger. It was hard to endure James' volatile behavior after each visit to the clinic confirmed that I had no child in my womb. According to James, it was always my fault that we hadn't conceived, a punishment from God because I had been unfaithful to him from the start of our marriage. I didn't bother to tell him it wasn't true, that Caleb had been innocent. What good would it do now when the damage had already been done? Instead, I bit my tongue and let James belittle me until he got it out of his system.

But every time I found myself jealous of Charlotte, I only had to look at her- really look at her- for my jealousy to subside. Each passing Sunday, Charlotte seemed more and more withdrawn, worn down, and withering away from the woes of life as a newlywed. As Charlotte's stomach grew, the friend I had once known diminished before my eyes, as though the fetus was sucking the life right out of her. She was losing weight rather than gaining it, her once envious curves replaced by skin on bones. Her cheeks were sunken and pale, her normally lively eyes deadened. Charlotte's shoulders were slumped in defeat, like she carried a weight far too hefty for her young shoulders. The smile I'd come to love so much had long since disappeared, replaced by worry lines that looked peculiar on someone as beautiful as Charlotte.

The continuous bruises decorating her body hadn't diminished just because she was pregnant. If anything, the frequency and severity of Charlotte's injuries had grown worse the further along she became. As I stared at the marks scarring her ivory skin, I knew that I loathed the plump man even more than I despised my own husband. He had taken something beautiful from this world. He had corrupted my best friend, and I would never forgive him for that.

Most of all, I hated myself a little more each time I looked at Charlotte. Did I bear some of the responsibility for Charlotte's decline? For months now I had been basking in my new, forbidden relationship with Ruby, living in a joyous bubble safe from the outside world, and all the while, Charlotte's situation was becoming more and more dire. In my state of happiness, I had temporarily forgotten the agony my friend was enduring.

After months of not communicating, I had almost accepted that mine and Charlotte's friendship may truly be over. Life had moved forward, and had forced us to do the same. Our focus was to be on our husbands and our homes and the children we were expected to rear, not on childhood memories and reminisces of the life we once had. So I was surprised when Charlotte tugged on my sleeve one Sunday afternoon, clinging to me with a vise-like grip that cut off circulation to the rest of my arm. Her eyes were wide and panicked, her breathing labored as she pulled me to the dark shadows to the side of the church after the sermon ended.

"I can't do this anymore, Mia," she said with tear-filled eyes. "I can't live the rest of my life like this. I'd rather die than spend one more minute with that man, and I'll be damned if I let my child grow up in a household like his!"

"Charlotte, take a breath," I said, my stomach clenched with worry about how close she was to hyperventilating. When her breathing returned to normal, she loosened the grip on my arm. "I think that you need to go to the Guardians. Maybe if you explain the situation- that your husband doesn't use punishment for disciplinary reasons, but for his own sick pleasure- maybe they'll allow you to annul the marriage."

She eyed me skeptically. "Even if they listened to me, we both know I'd end up in the Factories and I'm not taking the chance of becoming a No Name woman," she sighed. "I've decided the only thing I can do is get the hell out of this town."

"What?" I asked, stunned

"I don't care if all that lies beyond Grayson is wastelands- anything is better than being here. I'm taking my child and starting over somewhere where a man can't control me or my body. And before you argue," she said, anticipating my dispute. "I'm not asking your permission. This is happening, Mia, no matter what you think. But I am asking you to come with me."

I stared at her wide-eyed. "I can't do that, Charlotte."

She scoffed. "Why not? You hate your husband as much as I hate mine. I can see it in your eyes. Why should we have to suffer for the rest of our lives when we might be happy elsewhere? We have to lose."

I shook my head as though I would be able to push her conspiratorial words from my mind. Leave Grayson? It was impossible. Others had tried in the past, and they had failed. If we were caught leaving the city, we would suffer a worse fate than life as a No Name woman.

My mind was so muddled by her suggestion that I said the first thing that came to my mind. "It's our duty as women to obey our husbands, so sayeth the Lord," I repeated the mantra that had been drilled into my head without skipping a beat.

"Are you seriously quoting the Bible to me right now?" she asked, humor in her eyes. "Okay, then. Colossians 3:19: Husbands, love your wives, and do not be harsh with them," Charlotte recited. "I've read the Bible cover to cover several times during the last few months, and nowhere in it does it say that the treatment we're enduring is okay. Our city is so quick to side with men and think they can do no wrong, but they only want to use the verses of the Bible that are convenient for them."

"Then use that information, Charlotte," I pleaded. "Use their own methods against them. Recite the Bible to convince the council to let you out of this marriage!" I pleaded, but she just shook her head.

"You and I both know that won't work, Mia! It would only subject me to more scrutiny because I exposed the fact that I could read. Then I could be endangering you and your parents, and I won't do that." She sighed. "The government is full of men- married men- who do God only knows what to their own wives. They will always side with the husband in these situations because they don't want us to think we have the right to disagree. The only hope I have of things changing is if I take matters into my own hands. That's why I'm leaving Grayson," she said, squaring her shoulders. "You can either come with me or not- it's your choice. Regardless, I'm going."

"You've witnessed the hangings of those who've tried to leave," I reminded her. "It's not worth it."

"Well, my life can't get much worse, so I'll take my chances," she mumbled. "I'll understand if you don't want to go, Mia. But if you change your mind, I'll be at the swings Tuesday at dusk. If you're not there, well... I guess I'll be going on my own. But please, please just think about it. Will you do that for me?" she asked. She looked deep into my browns eyes, pleading.

"Okay," I murmured reluctantly. "I'll think about it."

She flashed a brilliant smile, and for just a moment, I was reminded of the old Charlotte, my Charlotte, the one I could get back if she had the opportunity at a new life.