Jemima Jones

The first thing I did when I woke up was to take off my underwear. Today was the due date for the commencement of my monthly period cycle. I trembled with anticipation, hopeful that I would find no bloodstain whatsoever. The fact that I woke up without feeling soaked or uncomfortable underneath was what set my hopes up.

But I took off my underwear only to find that the original white-colored pantie had been dominated by my blood. Right there and then, my heart shattered into pieces and the tears fell, unforced. This was my last hope and I hoped it was going to be a positive outcome.

It was frustrating that I couldn't get that one thing every other woman seemed to get very easily. How could some women be so fertile but other women had to do the most ridiculous things just to be with child?

I wanted to prove to my husband, Victor that I was a competent wife that was capable of conceiving a child. I made him copulate with me many times the previous month. It was so pathetic because I'd had to beg him to touch me. Weren't couples supposed to be enthusiastic about having sex with each other?

But Victor didn't care much about what I had to prove so I made a foolery of myself by forcing everything simply because I wanted to be accepted by my family and society as a complete woman. He had given up on me and even made me feel more like a fool by accepting to have sex with me, knowing that it was going to be futile as always.

It made me all the more anxious since I had already heard rumors before this time of my husband's extramarital trysts. With the way he was starting to treat me recently, I couldn't help but think it was all true. Maybe he was already able to get his mistress pregnant which was why I looked useless to him but still, I wanted to try.

But where has that gotten me now? Back to square one again. I see my underwear stained with my menstrual flow, a married woman that was incapable of getting pregnant.

I stood up from my bed, headed towards the door that led to the backyard to do my laundry especially since I now had a filthy underwear. Washing clothes were somewhat therapeutic for me. It made me feel like I could wash away my sorrows for the moment and wear a new garment each day. I had no idea what tomorrow had in store for me, and truthfully, tomorrow never bought forth anything promising and delightful, all I wanted was to be a mother and I always felt like I could try.

But now...I didn't know if I should continue on this strive. Yes, society would regard me as a woman lacking in virtue but I didn't have the energy to carry on.

As I got to the backyard and was just about to settle on the pavement to start washing my clothes, a large hand that smelled and even tasted like tobacco covered my mouth harshly. I wished I didn't have to taste something so gross but it was so sudden that I had no means of defending myself in any possible way.

I couldn't even sense that someone was behind me or that I was being followed. There was no way that my soberness would have blocked all of my five sensitivities.

The next thing was a gag in my mouth and my eyes tied with a red cloth. I dug my nails hard into the rough palms, trying to yank it off my face. "Nng. Grr." were the only protesting sounds that my throat could produce until I felt something cold and sharp in a horizontal, heavy movement across my neck.

A knife. Or perhaps a sword.

"If you make any other sound as small as a monosyllabic exclamation, I will slash your throat and feed your detached head to the vultures. Oh what a tasty meal would it be for those scavengers, " a voice chanted closely in my ear. It was deep, frightening, and grotesque. "Or...actually, you can go on and try to scream. It won't change the fact that I'm taking you away from this place right away and neither your nor your husband can do a thing about it."

The blindfold covering my eyes was so tight, I could barely dart my eyeballs into another direction that wasn't the color of the red cloth before me. Who was this Beelzebub? I had no clue. I couldn't even see his thumb. Nothing at all. I was very scared.

As though the travails I was passing through weren't already debilitating enough. I just could not bring myself to begin processing this new...captivity. I wanted to cry even. I would try to be silent as possible but I couldn't move my eyeballs.

Those same hands moved from my neck to my mid-riff, grabbing my buttocks as it draped me over broad shoulders that wore a garment filled with thorns and strands of hay that pickled my silk gown, tickling my flesh in the most torturous way possible as he took gallant, gigantic steps.

I remembered leaving the back gate opened last night because I arrived home before Victor. He had forgotten to lock the gate probably be used he walked in drunk with some mistress I didn't know about which gave this devil the easiest of accesses to walk in and capture me.

Victor didn't care.

Now there was no way he would know that I was being taken away. He never slept in the same room as mine so there was no point in me making any more efforts to scream.

I felt my buttocks jiggle painfully just before it plopped harshly on the bottom rear of a van. Now I knew I was out of my home, unsafe with no explanations as to why. I clung to a corner but the silencer from the engine burned my palm. The owner of the voice had slapped it with those heaters he called hands. "Pfft. You are on your period. I won't be able to touch you tonight."

What?