Chapter Three *update - edited for clarity*

 We found out pretty quickly that it wasn't safe being  a woman.  After the new leader took over, women were being attacked in the streets, and at first, they were reporting it to the police, but after nothing was being done,  tried defending ourselves.  Unfortunately, the ones who defended themselves were the ones who ended up in jail for "assault".  They were sent to the work camps.  In order to protect myself, I started dressing like a boy to avoid unwanted attention, but then they made it illegal for women to cut their hair or wear pants. Our dresses had to be at least below the knee, and enforces walked around with rulers to ensure that our skirts and dresses were legal.  

Men were starting to come to the camps to look for wives.  They made it a law that if someone wanted to a woman in the camp, since she was indebted to the Nation, she had to comply so she wouldn't be a burden to the state.   We wouldn't have been "burdens to the state" if we were allowed to work for money, but of course they didn't want us to be independent.  We were working, but we weren't getting a paycheck.  Women were no longer allowed to own property, or have jobs, have bank accounts, or vote anymore.   We were considered property, and it became a popular saying for men to say, "Your body, MY choice."

I was surviving.  I was keeping my head down, thinking I wasn't getting noticed, but I had been naiive.  One of the guards had been watching me, and decided I would be good wife material.  So, at fifteen, I was told I would be marrying a 40 year old man.   

It meant that I would no longer be living in the camps, but I felt safer in th camps with the razor wire at the tops of the electrified fences than with a man over twice my age that I hardy knew.  But in this strange new world, consent wasn't a thing anymore.  Women weren't allowed to say no to a man.  It didn't matter that I wasn't even of age.  As women no longer had voting rights, even though my mother was caring for me, the State made decisions for my welfare as "I had no father to make decisions for me".   

So even though my mother would have been violently opposed to my forced marriage, she wasn't there to protect me.  No one was.  Maybe it was better that she was in jail and not here to see this happen; losing both her kids would have probably killed her.  They took me away immediately, and after a forced medical exam to ensure that I was "pure" for my husband, and that I had no fertility issues, I was pronounced fit for marriage, and a microchip was inserted in my arm  to prove his "ownership", and he signed some paperwork and that was it.  I was his "wife".  

Of course I was "pure"; I had no interest in men, but I hadn't "come out", something I was grateful for after seeing the Leader and his followers treated anyone who wasn't like them.  I certainly didn't have interest in this man.  I was terrified, but I told myself that if i was out of the camps, I might be able to escape.  Then, I could find my brother, and we could truly escape if we could make it to the border. There were still places, in the wild North, were there were no walls into Canada.  It would be dangerous, but not as dangerous as being a woman in the new Nation.  

My "husband" was horrible.  He was cruel and depraved and my wedding night was memorable for all the wrong reasons.    Instead of a wedding ring, he tattooed his name on my forearm, and told me it was a reminder to me that I belonged to him and not get "uppity" ideas.  He kept the doors locked, and wore the key around his neck.  He had servants who were instructd to watch me.  Escape wasn't going to be easy.   But I kept myself going with the thought that I would leave and I would get away.   The only way to survive him was to just go to another place, in my mind, when he hurt me, and I became numb to everything.  It was alot easier not to feel, and then it didn't hurt as much.  My "husband" thought this was me being compliant and submissive and after a few months, he started allowing me to accompany him whilst he went shopping, and after several months of this, he began sending me on errands to go shopping.  By then, the shopkeepers recognized me enough as his "wife", and  accepted my passes I was given for shopping without too much question.  Of course, I couldn't buy anything without a list from my husband and a "pass" from him saying I was allowed out, so it wasn't a simple thing to run whilst I was out; I had to think this through and make sure I didn't get caught.  But each time I was out, I looked around me for places to hide, places to walk where the street cameras wouldn't pick me up and set it to memory. My eventual escape would not be something I could write down; it would be too dangerous.  And one mistake or wrong turn could be fatal.  Men were allowed to beat their wives for disobedience, or if they just displeased them.  I had already been beaten by him for simple things.  those beatings had been bad enough; I did not want to find out what he'd do if I failed and escape attempt.  But I had no choice: I had to escape, if there was any chance.  

It was on these small errands that I met other "wives", girls like me who had been basically bought by their husbands at the camps.  Unfortunately, I didn't know which of them I could trust because the Nation encouraged it's "responsible" citizens to report any thing or anyone that looked suspicous or "theatened" the Nation.  Ironically, any "unrest" or talk of rebellion was to be reported, and those citizens were rewarded, including women.   People who reported things that were found to be valid were rewarded handsomely and enjoyed extra privileges, such as internet, and better housing.  Everyone had a television, as viewing the Eagle News was now mandatory for all households.  

Some of the girls pretended to befriend others, only to get information.  Because of that, I kept mainly to myself. I didn't let on to anyone that I was unhappy or being mistreated.  Not that it would have mattered.  Indeed, women who complained about their husbands were accused of "maligning their character" and "attempting to bring down a man of God".  So it would do no good to complain anyway.  If we knew what was good for us, our bruises were from our own clumsiness.  

This was of course, intentional, the government didn't want us getting together and starting a "rebellion" and I had spent months being careful now; I wasn't going to risk it all to trust the wrong person.   Suddenly, you would see one woman missing from the usual shopping lines, and another woman would be wearing fancy new jewelry, or being driven to the shops in a fancy new car.   Women weren't allowed to drive anymore, but if their husbands were awarded, they could afford a new car and even a chauffer.   Those that openly supported the government and had voted for the Leader lived quite well, enjoying a higher status than thoses who had opposed him.   My "husband" had been an ardent supporter, and thus we lived in a fancy house, in a gated community, which meant security for him, but it meant that escape was harder for me.   Women were only allowed out for certain things; and walking without a male escort for a simple walk was not only dangerous, it was illegal.  One had to have a pass, and any woman without a pass would be arrested if she was lucky, and if a mob of men decided to mete out her punishment, well, she was very unlucky.   Those of us who went shopping clutched our bags and our permits and hurried to the shops, with our heads down, not daring to make eye contact with other men on the street.  

As we had a small farm, I didn't have to go shopping as often as the others; we had our own milk, eggs, and meat, and in the summer months, plenty of vegetables.  I spent much of the time working with the animals, fishing in our stream, gathering eggs, working in the garden, milking and then late in the summer harvesting and canning.  I learned how to butcher animals and smoke meats and fish.  Women were not allowed to hunt; we were not allowed to carry or use a firearm.    It was not considered very ladylike; men were the providers, we were told we were the caretakers of the home.   

Although he had a sizeable amount of land to hunt and fish on, he also had an electrified fence surrounding the property, so even if I had been allowed to hunt and figured out the land, getting out would be a problem.   Simply hiding in the woods would also be difficult; he had well trained dogs that were decidedly not pets, and as hunters, they were lethal.  I had seen them in action and didn't want to be the object of their chase.   I was actually terrified of them.   They barked and growled ferociously when I had to walk by their kennels and my husband always was amused by my fear.  One time he had told me that his last wife had tried to run and the dogs had torn her apart.  I didn't want to believe him, but some part of me knew he was telling the truth.  This was a man who would not show pity; rather, I got the feeling that he would enjoy it.  I couldn't help but shudder every time I had to pass the dogs.  I loved dogs --- well, I had before I met his dogs.  I just didn't like these ones.  I realized, after time, that he purposely kept them slightly underfed so they were always hungry and angry.  I knew that feeling.   He didn't exactly starve me, but I never felt full; he was obsessive about having a perfect body, and controlled what I ate and even with all the work I did, he required me to work out in the gym to maintain the pefect body for him. 

I dreaded becoming pregnant with his child.  It would be even harder to try to escape with a child, and if caught, women who fled with their children from abusive situations were jailed for kidnapping and the children returned to their father.

I had to leave before that happened.  He kept close track of my cycle, so he would know about the same time I did if I was pregant.  Having a son was a kind of status symbol; the more sons one had, the higher he rose in status.  A wife who bore sons was also much more desireable than a wife who bore daughters (for obvious reasons).  However, arranged marriages were quite beneficial for families, and it became quite popular for business partnerships, and other dealings.  As the Nation, there was one ruler, but his most loyal followers had been awarded the most land and shares and were declared Lords of their area, and those that managed not to end up in the camps were basically serfs, their own lands and farms taken away from them if they had not been supportive of the Leader before the election.    My husband was one of those Lords.  Which meant he was not only powerful in his area (as long as he agreed with the Leader), it also meant he had alot of resources and access to things if he needed it, should he lose something of his.  I didn't know any of this in the beginning; I just knew I had married someone rich.  

I didn't even want children; I never had.   I had wanted to go to school, and after that, I didn't know what, but I had never thought I'd be married at 15 with no chance of continuing my education.  It was so unfair.  

And then, one morning, I felt different.  I was impossible to know; it was much too early, but I just knew I was carrying a child.  And suddenly, feircely, I had to protect this child and save him from growing up to be a monster like his father.  I would not, could not stand by and let my child be turned into a man like his father or, if it were a girl, be forced into a life of misery.  It was now or never; I had to flee.

  It was too early to even test for it, and I didn't dare, because then HE would know.  I hadn't even worked out a plan.  It was market day, but it was also game day, and the town was packed with fans, ready for the match.  It was the worst day to be caught on the street, because revelers often attacked women on these days.  I had dreaded this trip.  Now, I knew what I would have to do.  Instead of crossing the bridge into the market square, I would have climb under the bridge and go into the river.  Before getting into the water, I took off my skirt and placed it into a tightly bound plastic bag that held a pair of trousers and a long sleeved shirt, that I'd hidden under my clothes.  The skirt was long and would quickly become water logged and hold me down.  I held it above my head as I got into the water.  I gasped but managed to keep quiet as I slipped silently into the water, holding the bag above my head and using my other arm and legs to propell forward in the deep water.  Thaknfully, I wouldn't be out in the open for long; the river entered a thick forest, which was my husband's land. The water was cold, but the water would make it harder for his dogs to track me.   In case I was caught, I kept his pass and money carefully wrapped in the plastic bag.   What I would do with it, I didn't know, but I wasn't ready to toss it just yet.  The river went through his property, but if i stayed to the middle, the motion cameras wouldn't catch me.  But hopefully, I would be able to find the knife I had thrown into the middle of the river when I had "lost" it fishing a few months ago.  I had known this day would come.   My heart was pounding so much that I felt like it was going to beat out of my chest.  I was terrified of being caught but more terrified of being stuck here, forever, being forced to bear children to a monster and then having to watch their futures destroyed.  

I was able to find the knife, because I'd tied a rope to it, which floated above the murky depths of the river.   Once I had the knife, I secured it in my waist and continued down river.   I knew the area, roughly.  My brother and I loved nature; before the Election, we had spent lots of our free time exploring and hiking.  We had promised each other that when we graduated, we would go boundary water canoeing for our adventure.  Now, that would never happen.    I WOULD look for him, but right now, I had to get to Canada.   I didn't know how the rules worked now, but I was hopeful I could apply for assylum.  

I thought of all the stupid memes on ProfileBook after the election where his supporters had said, "if you don't like it LEAVE", and thought of the irony of all of us who had been arrested trying to leave.  This time, it HAD to work.   I thought of the Profile Book friends I had that actually lived in Canada; friends I had met online while gaming and wondered if they'd even be able to help me if I showed up, pregnant and destitue and in their country quite illegally.  But that was currently the best idea I had, and THAT was only one very slim chance that I made it across the border without being caught -- or dying.