From my window I can see the forest. There are several varieties of trees such as birch, beech, maple, hemlock and an abundance of white pine. The forest coverage has remained remarkably unharmed despite the tales of mass nuclear destruction and fabled wastelands. This is beauty that cannot be destroyed, and the persistence of life. There is a temporary sense of possession. No, permanent. Permanent.

It is August - summertime. The atmosphere is humid although the days are not as hot and not as long in Gilead. Each morning I am awaken by the sunlight that gently, effortlessly covers the room with brightness, creeping inch by inch across my languid limbs encompassing me in warmth. It is almost a routine serenade.

My exact geography is unknown, although I have attempted to gauge my position from the memories of before. I am living in 'The Underground Femaleroad'. There are other women here, women who were like me. We call each other by our names, not Ofsimon or Ofwilliam. Or Ofdawson. Today I am wearing jeans, a shirt and sandals. Nothing red. Nothing red except for the lipstick painted blatantly upon my lips. I almost feel naked, my arms are visible, my head uncovered and my hair too exposed. The Aunts would call me immodest. Promiscuous. My appearance suggests a woman undone. Yet I am a woman on my own, making up my own mind. I am choosing to be undone. You could get intoxicated by this power. The freedom to be yourself. Freedom from Gilead.

My hand moves the curtain further away and I stare out the window. I like it here. The environment is still so natural, the entire place still reminiscent of it oldness. It is proof that their power is not absolute. The city where I am situated is centered around a large river that empties itself out into a bay. All around me is a picturesque beauty which I appreciate. It is a sign of living, of the past and present. It is history.

We hear information every now and then, mainly from the television or radio. Everything about Gilead seems so surreal. You watch brief flashes in the news - images of bodies hanging limply from rope with white sacks over their heads and men beaten to death - and you hear tales. You see women, walking in pairs, overwhelmed in red. And they are not me. But they are. Were.

Katherine says that the regime is reconstructing. Ellen nods her head, voicing that the atmosphere is more dangerous, more tense. "We'll continue fighting though. More people are joining the Underground. May Day will arrive." They smile together, their eyes burning with fierce intensity. But we are free. Jen is still in Jezebel's. Jen who has longed for escape, who is determined to defy all. I want to believe that she has continued fighting, that with great gusto she blew up the place and road out into the proverbial sunset, free. Just like in those old Westerns. I want to believe that Jen is on her way and that we will meet again like two sisters reunited.

I shouldn't be here. I'm the wimp, the coward.

The white pines remind me I am in Maine.

M'aidez. Help me. May Day. At night I see Jen staring accusingly at me. She’s left behind and I am here. And there's Pacey with his hand is outstretched and "Trust me" falls from his mouth. His eyes are blue and pleading with me. One dark brown lock curls to the side and he is incredibly beautiful, as beautiful as a man can be. I cannot help but trust him.

I remember his gentle caresses and how he would murmur ever so softly that everything would be all right. I remember his gentle touches, smooth and seductive against my skin, his lips warm and loving. His fingers dance down my arm, his hands stroke my back and arch in response and mewl. He told me he loved me in a world devoid of love. In a world that suppresses love. Will I ever see him again? I know I love him. I know I am in love with him. It’s crazy to imagine that amongst war and chaos and death and rebellion that people can still fall in love.

Then I see the Commander and Andie. The Commander continues shrinking and shrinking. Unreachable. Andie’s grip is loose. She has no hold over me now. Her fingers are empty. My arms are free.

I'm scared that I will forget. Sometimes I imagine its all a dream but then I remember. It's so easy to allow myself to forget. That the events that have lead me here were distant historical occurrences. Then I remember everything and it is as if I never left. I hear the Aunts as they lecture us on proper behavior and protocol Andie grips my arms and the Commander is ramming into me. He is a train - mechanical - increasing momentum with an impatient rhythm. I feel nothing; no pleasure and no pain. Then we're watching ET over and over again, the Commander and I. He's acting all fatherly, entertaining me and then I'm dolled up in feathers and sequins entertaining him. I'm at the top of stairs, knocking on the door. Pacey opens the door. And then we come together. Oh, God I'm still there. Living in Gilead.

It is a warning.

There's only the future now. I stare at my swollen belly. My clothes grow tighter each day. I’ll need new clothes soon. I rub my stomach protectively and stare out the window. It's confusing. It is scary.

The story has ended. At its conclusion real life should now begin. The curtains have fallen, the cast has taken its bow, the audience has clapped and now I stand on a darkened stage, in front of rows upon rows of empty seats, not knowing what comes next.