Making a Go of It

Here, at least, I can hope for a modicum of safety. While I was essentially shanghaied into joining this community, they seem like decent folks who are just trying to live their lives. I could see myself growing to like this place well enough. So, I decide to make a go of it.

The first couple of weeks pass slowly. My young husband, whose name I have learned is Taymur, works hard from dawn till dusk tending his herd of goats. My daily chores include keeping a clean house, mending clothes, tending the small herb garden growing outside, and cooking. They use a lot of spices in the food here, and it takes me a few tries before I manage to prepare a meal he actually enjoys.

I've ventured into town a few times, mostly to purchase bread and the like. But so few speak my language, I fear it will be quite a while before I can really befreind people. Even my attempts to converse with Taymur are a bit stiff and stunted due to the language barrier. Except when we're in the bedroom, where a more universal language is spoken. As a result, we spend a lot of our free time in there. The young man has all the restraint you'd expect of a horny teenager. That is, hardly any at all. The way we've been carrying on, it seems to be just a matter of time before I turn up pregnant.

1. Sure enough, two months later I find myself pregnant.
2. A few more weeks pass without incident. Then, one night, men from the facility come to town. Are they looking for me, or is there something else they're here for?

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