Page 2 of The Female

I just need my parents to survive until I’m no longer fertile. Women unable to get pregnant aren’t sold, and they’re allowed to live out their remaining years in secure facilities.

My back still hurts despite my stretching, and I set my book on the ground before grabbing my discarded headphones. I’ve read this book too many times, and it’s growing stale.

It’s risky to watch video on my phone, but I should be safe if I wear my ear buds and keep the video on low volume.

Dad assured me tonight’s guests are humans like us, so they shouldn’t be able to hear any light noises from me. It’s only when stronger breeds come over that things get risky. Humans are at the bottom of the food chain, and our senses are nothing compared to most others.

My heartbeat could be enough to give me away.

Grabbing my phone, I plug in my earphones and navigate my way to the news. I keep the buds out of my ears and turn the volume down before selecting the live feed. It takes a minute to load, but once it does, I click the volume up a couple of notches to ensure the audio is coming through the wires and not blaring out of the phone.

Once I’m sure it’s safe, I pick up the buds and slide the right one in my ear, purposefully keeping the left out in case the phone becomes disconnected and the audio source switches.

It’s better to be safe than sorry.

Two over polished human men chat mindlessly about the disputes between the demons and ogres, laughing as they place bets on who they think will come out on top. There are quiet rumblings that the demons have begun to produce females again, and the ogres are demanding a census be taken.

The demons are refusing, specifically the Wraths, and now everybody else is growing suspicious of their numbers.

I’m not sure if I believe it, though.

I can’t let myself believe it.

Getting my hopes up that more women are being born and I might be able to live a normal life will only lead to pain and disappointment. It took me a long time to accept that this is the life I’m destined to live.

I grab a granola bar as the conversation between the men switches to the humans. We’ve been relatively good about staying out of the public eye recently, most everybody losing interest after our last known female was born ten or so years ago.

It’s disappointing that everything nowadays is about the capture and cost of women. My books suggest that we used to care about arts and culture and passions, but that’s no longer seen as important.

Now you are either male or female, purchaser or purchasee. Nothing else matters.

At least for the humans, I suppose. I don’t know much about the other breeds.

The men on the screen grow excited as they disclose the capture of over fifty human women. My jaw goes slack as they speak the haunting words, and my snack is long forgotten as it drops to the floor.

Over fifty?

Tears fill my eyes as they show footage of women being dragged and pulled from a giant underground hideaway, all crying and screaming as the Seekers force them into large, armored vans.

The men explain that they’re being taken to the last remaining human facility and are scheduled to be sold next month. They make jokes about traveling there to buy one themselves, claiming this to be the largest find in over forty years.

The Seekers rarely come to the human realm, leading the women to feel a foolish sense of security and travel out of their hideaways. The men laugh and explain that the women would peek outside and expose their faces to the sun, and they praise the Seekers for being able to catch them with just that.

My blood runs cold with each word, fearful that I, too, will be caught like the rest of these women. I’m more careful on a bad day than they appeared to be on a good one, but occasionally, I have ventured close to an open window, and one time, I even took a step into the sun.

The Seekers don’t share the details surrounding their technology, but I know enough to fear ever stepping on open land. They know everything that happens outside.

My stomach roils as I pull out my earbud and turn off my phone. I can’t watch any more of this. Not when I’m hiding in my hole waiting for men to leave my home.

A capture this large is going to put so much attention on the humans. If I had to guess, I’d say we’re going to spend the next five or so years under careful watch. I’ll need to be extra cautious.

Despite the loud stomping from upstairs, I force myself to close my eyes and keep my cries silent. I wish I were one of the happy women in the books I read about.

I wish I were my mother.

She’s married to a good man. My dad doesn’t treat her like she’s some sought-after property to be purchased and paraded around. He’d rather die than hurt my mom or me, but I fear that men like him don’t exist anymore.

If I’m lucky, I’ll be purchased by a man wealthy enough that the offers from his peers won’t tempt him. I’ll be fortunate not to be passed around by hundreds of grabby, desperate men.

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