Page 6 of The Female

The Seekers waited until there was a breakthrough capture before launching their attack, making everybody believe their actions are reactive. Everybody will think the human government had no other options but to approve the Seekers’ request to enter private property, and I doubt our government is going to counteract the claims.

Nobody will know their homes were going to be broken into and torn apart either way, and those who approved the raids can wash their hands of all responsibility.

My head feels heavy as I look around the room we’ve been put in, and despite my best attempts to stop it, tears fill my eyes as I look at the women sitting all around me. I’ve never been around anybody but my parents before, and I’m surprised by the sheer number of females it seems were also in hiding.

I always believed I was alone in my struggle.

There are a few women curled up on the hard floor sleeping, exhaustion pulling them under. I’m jealous of their ability to sleep when our world is crumbling. Instead, I sit rigid on a small stone bench with three others. These benches line the room, only separated by the worn-down wooden door the Seekers are bringing us in through and a nicer, well-kept one that has yet to be opened.

We watch silently as more and more females are brought in and tossed onto the ground like unwanted toys.

My heart breaks every time a little girl is added, their wide, terrified eyes confused as they try to make sense of what’s happening. Most are old enough to understand they’re a hunted gender, but every once in a while, there is one too young to comprehend even that.

Usually somebody will swoop in and help out, cradling the young female in her arms until she either falls asleep or lowers her sobs into quiet sniffles.

Nobody here looks older than their mid-thirties, confirming my assumption that the Seekers are only collecting the women they aim to sell. I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case and my mom would be brought in, but I’m losing hope.

I’ll probably never see her again.

I shake my head and blink away my tears as I realize I’ll never see either of my parents again. My father is likely lying dead on the living room floor and will probably remain there until he rots into the floorboards.

He was a good man who deserves a burial, but because he was hiding a female, he’ll be seen as a traitor. Nobody will honor him, not even the men who came for dinner.

The room grows silent when the nicer, well-kept wooden door opens and a man steps inside. He looks human, short and wide with thin, white hair. He holds a clipboard but says nothing.

We wait while he looks us over, and after a few moments he directs his attention to the papers in his hands. I find myself holding my breath as he jots down a few notes and points to the five women sitting closest to him.

“Come with me,” he orders.

For a long moment, there’s nothing, but then they stand and follow him out of the room.

Their movements scream anxiety, but they follow him nonetheless. It’s not like we have any other options and causing trouble will only make things harder. What feels like only minutes later, he returns and calls for a few more women to follow him.

Nobody returns, and I hope it means we’re being moved to more comfortable rooms.

We’ll probably be added to the auction the men on the news spoke about yesterday and, in one month, be sold to the highest bidder.

I turn toward the children with a low sigh.

Except them. They’ll remain here until they’re old enough to be sold. It changes from breed to breed, but the human government doesn’t approve the purchasing of women until they’re well into adulthood. Usually in their early twenties.

They say it’s because they care for us, but we all know they just want extra time to mold us into docile, rule obeying women. Females who don’t scream and fight go for a higher price.

One of the younger girls begins to wail as she wakes from sleep, her tiny hands curling into fists as she rubs at her cheeks and pushes back her unruly hair. She’s wearing footy pajamas, and I can’t help but imagine what her night looked like.

Did her parents know what was going to happen? I wonder if they gave her extra sweets and cuddled with her until she fell asleep in their arms. Or maybe they put her to bed as they do every night, probably having to wrestle with her as she complained about not being tired.

Either way, she’s here now.

My attention shifts to the main door as the man with the clipboard returns. My heartbeat quickens as his stubby finger points in my direction, and I feel empty as I stand.

He calls for a few other women to join me, but I pay them no mind.

My pulse is deafening as I walk to the door, my blood rushing through my ears and blocking out all other sounds. Unable to resist, I turn and look over the room one last time.

I’m met with expressions of pity.

I’m sure I looked at the women who left before me the same way. The man clears his throat when I take too long, and I resist the urge to scream as I straighten my shoulders and follow him into the facility.

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