With a frustrated sigh, I sat up in bed, surrendering all pretenses of falling asleep. It was still early, the pastel hues of dawn just beginning to lighten the shadowy horizon. On a normal day, I would lay back down and hope for another hour of rest, but today was anything but normal. Today was the day of my Awakening.

I rubbed my temples with my index fingers, hoping to dull the throbbing headache that had plagued me for two weeks now. I had dreaded this moment for the past eighteen years, trying to prolong the inevitable for as long as I could. Now, in what felt like the blink of an eye, The Awakening Ceremony was here. In just a few hours, I would be a married woman, bound to a stranger for the rest of my life. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Suddenly, it was sweltering in my room, far too hot for the early spring morning. It was hard to breathe, the air too thick and warm to offer reprieve. Perspiration formed a thin layer on my back, causing my nightgown to cling to my body. I kicked off my heavy down comforter, seeking relief, but found little. 

Knowing I would never get back to sleep anyway, I climbed out of bed, stripped out of the soiled clothes, and stepped into the shower. I stood beneath the faucet for far longer than I normally would, basking in the pleasant feeling of the cool on my feverish skin.

After toweling off, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, perhaps for the last time. My brown eyes were wild and bright, filled with apprehension at what the day would bring. They looked odd in contrast to my pallid skin. My thoughts were racing as I ran the bristles of my brush mindlessly through my hair and pulled the dark locks into a braid that fell midway down my back.

With nothing left to do but wait, I paced around my bedroom, taking it in one last time. I ran my hands along the soft peach walls, the yellowing lace curtains, the markings on the doorframe that indicated my growth during my youth. These were the things that made me who I was; all things that would be a part of my past now.

I wasn't allowed to bring anything with me to the Awakening Ceremony. All of my clothes and personal belongings would be left behind, gone as though my childhood never happened. Perhaps my parents would sell my things once I was given to my mate. They had no reason to keep them when they would likely never see me again.

I bit back tears at the thought. Everything in my life that I cherished would soon disappear- the lilac blanket my mother knitted just before my birth, the dozens of books my father had loaned me over the years, the friendship bracelet my best friend made me for my twelfth birthday- all gone, all forgotten, just as I would be.

Even my own name would become obsolete, my identity erased and a new one assigned. From this point forward, I would no longer be Mia Alvarez, but a Mrs.; someone whose sole purpose was to cater to the needs of her husband and submit to him in all ways. The idea made me want to vomit.

I sat on the edge of my twin bed and buried my face in my hands. I didn't want to leave my childhood home. Within these four walls, I was safe. I didn't have to wear a mask of deception, or pretend to be meek to avoid embarrassing my family, or hold my tongue, lest I insult a man with a smart remark. This had been the one place where I could be unapologetically me; the only sanctuary I had ever known. And now I had to leave it behind forever.   

Still, my fate was inevitable. If I refused to attend the Ceremony, Guardians would storm in our home and drag me to the Processing Center kicking and screaming, going so far as knocking me unconscious, if necessary. No matter how much you resisted, the end result was the same.

It didn't matter that I detested the idea of becoming someone's property. It didn't matter if I hated the man who selected me to be his wife. I was a woman, and as such, I was to obey the laws of the land set forth by our all-male government. My binding would commence, despite my qualms. That's just the way things were in the city of Grayson. It was the law.

When enough time had passed that I couldn't justify waiting any longer, I took one final glance at my bedroom, saying goodbye to the person I had been for nearly two decades, before heading downstairs to meet my fate.

Downstairs, my mother finished making breakfast while my father stoked the fire. I lingered in the shadows at the bottom of the stairwell, watching them from a distance as my mother brought my father a plate. He gave her a gentle kiss of gratitude, wrapping his arm tenderly around her waist. They stared into each other's eyes, genuinely in love.

I suppose if I could find a husband who looked at me like that, the Ceremony might not be so daunting. But my mother had been lucky. Most women didn't fare that well after they were bound.

It wasn't uncommon to see the welts and bruises that covered a bound woman's body, marks that told a story of the things that went on within the privacy of her home that would never dare to say aloud. In a way, the Awakening Ceremony was a game of Russian roulette. You might end up with a decent husband, someone who was kind and gentle, who respected his wife the way my father did my mother. But you were just as likely to end up with an authoritarian spouse, someone who controlled your every move and was viciously cruel.

This was an important day in the life of a Grayson woman, but it could also be a dangerous one. Would my husband be kind and humble like my father, willing to let me absorb knowledge through literature? Or would my only duty be to please him and bear his children, deemed a tool in his eyes, a means to an end? It was all the luck of the draw, and today, I wasn't feeling very lucky.

Pushing the dark thoughts from my mind, I took a deep breath to steady myself before walking into the kitchen. The food smelled delicious – fried pork chops and breakfast gravy. My favorite - but I didn't bother making a plate. I didn't have the stomach for food this morning.

As I took my seat at the kitchen table, my parents' wary eyes met mine. I mustered the most convincing smile I could manage, despite my trepidations. My mother returned the grin, but the gesture felt forced, her eyes tight with worry. 

"Good morning, Mia. Did you sleep well?" she asked

"Yes," I lied.

"Today is the big day," my father said, avoiding my eyes as he took a sip of his coffee. "Are you all set for the Ceremony?"

I nodded. "I am going to meet Charlotte and we will walk over together."

Their faces fell at my words. Even though Charlotte has been my best friend for as long as I could remember, my parents thoroughly detested her. I didn't understand why until they sat me down to give me a long lecture about the sins of homosexuality. I had to stifle my laughter, assuring them that Charlotte was more like a sister than a lover. They never brought it up again, but I could still tell that they'd prefer it if we didn't spend so much time together.

Though I was truthful when I said that Charlotte was like family to me, I would be lying if I said I hadn't previously thought about her in a romantic way. But then I reminded myself what would happen if I pursued a relationship, knowing that even if she accepted my advances, it would mean trouble for us both. Homosexuality was strictly forbidden in Grayson, an act punishable by death.

My parents' opinions didn't matter to me, though, because Charlotte was the only relief I found in this insufferable world. Together, we had endured everything Grayson threw at us – weekly Bible study centered on a woman's role in society, mandatory lessons in becoming the ideal housewife, classes on how to raise our future children in the ways of the Lord. From the time we were little girls, we'd been inseparable. I couldn't stay away from her even if I tried. Even the Awakening Ceremony would be experienced side-by-side.

Though I was thankful that I wouldn't have to endure the ceremony alone, I also worried about the fate of my best friend. The odds of both Charlotte and I being bound to respectable spouses were improbable. The idea of Charlotte being married to a monster made me nearly as sick as the prospect that my husband would be one, too.

My parents and I sat quietly around the kitchen table, none of us knowing what to say. There was no rule book on how to say goodbye to the people you loved the most. It was likely this would be our last time seeing one another. We should be crying, holding one another close, telling each other all of the things we'd been holding inside. Instead, there was only silence, nothing to distract my racing thoughts.

I glanced around the kitchen, taking in twenty years' worth of photographs hanging on the walls. I had been fortunate as a child- that much I knew. I'd heard the horror stories about children who were raised in an abusive home. But my father had never laid a hand on my mother. I grew up in a home full of love and mutual admiration. My father treated my mother as his equal, his partner in all things. He respected women and didn't regret that his only child had been born female. He loved me all the same and treated me just as he would any male heir.

He even taught me to read and write, a rarity for women. We had long since been prohibited from attending school; that was a luxury reserved for men. But my father taught me anyway. Even though he could get in trouble for doing so, he lent me books filled with history and science, fiction and happily ever afters, about life before the war and Grayson's establishment.

Most exciting of all, I learned about the notable women from our country's past. The ones who fought for equality and broke down barriers, who claimed a female was capable of doing anything their male counterparts could do. They danced to the beat of their own drums and refused to be defined by the status quo. I wanted to be like them more than anything. I was imprisoned by my gender on the outside, but in the secrecy of my mind, I could do whatever I wanted without fear of retribution. That notion quickly became my solace as a young girl.

Though I longed to be someone who could break the spokes in the wheel of patriarchy, fear held me back. Fear of making life harder for women instead of better; fear of the repercussions it would cause for my parents, fear that I would be deemed a No Name woman and cast out of society.

Instead, I allowed the flames of my rebellious spirit to rage on in the pages of literature where it was safe. I fought the great fight with Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton, rode literary roller-coasters with Jane Austen, flew through the night skies with Bessie Coleman. They were the ones who fought for us to be seen before we were pushed back behind the curtain, out of sight, out of mind. Two steps forward, one hundred steps back. I wondered what those remarkable women would think about the world we lived in now...

It was both a blessing and a curse that my father taught me to see the world in a different way. A blessing because my life had been enriched by the knowledge I absorbed from his books. In those forbidden pages, I lived a life beyond Grayson and the Awakening, and I would always be grateful for that. But learning about the way things used to be also condemned me because I wanted desperately to live in that world. I wanted to know what it was like to drive a car, to work outside the home, to choose my spouse and decide when- or even if- I wanted to have children. All things that existed just out of arm's reach, no matter how frantically I grasped for them.

I almost resented my father for treating me differently. He gave me an advantage beyond anything a Grayson woman should have, and with that knowledge, came the realization of how oppressed we really were. Now that I'd learned the truth, I could never unsee it. There was no going back to a life hidden in the shadows. I would always want more, and that was something I could never have.

When the city bell chimed to signal the start of our day, I staggered to my feet on shaking legs. My father gave a sad smile and pulled me into a quick embrace. "It will be okay," he murmured in my ear, his voice thick with unshed tears. "No matter what happens, you are strong and you will make the best of any situation. I know you will." 

When my father pulled away, his eyes were swimming with moisture. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, to thank him for providing me with an enriching childhood and a loving home, for allowing me opportunities that other little girls could only dream of. Instead, I just nodded, afraid that if I tried to speak, I would lose control of the tight grip I was keeping on my emotions.

My mother interlocked her hand in mine. "I'll walk you to the door."

When we reached the entryway, she rubbed my shoulders consolingly, leaning close so that only I could hear her.

"I remember my Awakening," she murmured, busying herself by smoothing out the wisps of hair that had escaped my braid. "It was terrifying not knowing what my future held. That kind of undiluted fear is something that never truly leaves you," she admitted, a crease forming between her brows. "But I was fortunate that your father chose me to be his wife. And I have faith that a kind, humble man will choose you, too. I have prayed for it every night since the day that you were born, Mia, and I will continue to pray for you until I draw my last breath."

A tear fell down my mother's ivory cheek. She was trying to keep it together, same as I was, but she wasn't succeeding. I had to look away, unable to bear the sight of her pain. I couldn't allow her emotions to break my resolve. This wasn't the time for me to come unraveled. I had to be strong, now more than ever.

In the distance, the city bells rang again- a warning this time. I only had a few minutes left before the Guardians would begin going door to door to ensure no woman eligible for the ceremony was left behind. My mother nodded, understanding that it was time to let me go.

"Just remember that a meek woman will make it further in this world than one who remains headstrong. Mind your words until you learn more about the man who chooses to wed you, and you will be fine," she advised. "Never forget that the most important duty of a wife is to make her husband happy. Make it your mission to learn how to please your spouse in all things so you can keep the peace. Do that, and your marriage will be successful. Don't, and we both know that you will be the one who pays the price," she said ominously, her eyes pained.

I swallowed hard and nodded. She was right, of course. If my marriage failed, it wouldn't be my husband who would be to blame. No matter the cause, I would be at fault and would suffer the consequences. The idea terrified me. 

My mother brought me in for one final hug before opening the door and leading me onto the front porch. I bit back tears as I made my way down the steps and into the crisp morning air, refusing to look back at the house I'd called home because, if I did, I would become inconsolable, and I couldn't risk losing control right now.  

I walked down the streets of Grayson, trying to remain strong, but my heart ached as I left everything I had ever known behind me. For better or worse, the Awakening Ceremony was sure to change my life forever.

Thank you so much for reading "Bound"! Please let me know what you thought about Mia and the world she lives in. What do you think about the Awakening Ceremony?

And as always, if you enjoyed the story, don't forget to vote! :)

© Dawn Norwell