Chapter one.

Her heart beat vigorously. The intensity of the forceful wind stung Amy’s rough scarred skin on the lower half of her face that was grimissing with pure determination. Amy’s hair was shaved and was covered by a dirty black balaclava. Over the top of the balaclava she wore her circular shaped aviator goggles that she had stolen from what they called the war shop. This is where the government sold all gear that was left on the deceased, decayed bodies of the 2020 Men and Woman who had been forced into war. Above her she could hear the sound of the street police who Amy referred to as the Devil’s Sons. Their leather boots crushed the tar seal with every heavy footstep they took. They were communicating. Although it wasn’t clear what they were saying because of the roaring wind that kept attacking her revealed skin she made out a couple of words. “You! Find that little bitch”. An oncoming gust of wind carrying shards of grit flew rapidly towards her sneaking under the overpass where she hung from and hit the back of her throat forcing her to cough. The impact of the gust threw her of balance just enough to make a few of her fingers slip off the tar seal. Dragging her down slowly was the weight of her leather trousers and boots. Finger by finger her clammy hands slipped off the edge of the overpass. Two fingers were left on the edge with the wind tossing her around. Beyond the edge she was hanging off she saw two helmeted men staring right at her. It was the devils sons. She took a glimpse down and there was a break in the traffic. Amy knew she had to drop. The pain was immense, one of them had stomped on the remaining fingers that were gripping the edge. Before she knew it Amy was falling down towards a chip seal road with two missing fingers that were left on top of the bridge.

Once again, she had done it. She had escaped the street devils dons and made her was back to her devision. In front of Amy stood enormous glass doors that looked down upon her. She’s gotten to the point where she feels even the doors were disappointed in her. She took a step inside from the smoggy city air inside to the smell of dirty men’s clothes and the rumbling of the hundreds of washing machines that never stop spinning. A rag that she had ripped from her undershirt was wet, dripping with blood. It was obvious none of the woman cared about her missing fingers as she walked back to her station getting attacked by stares of disappointment. The expectations that the Devil himself has put on these people was just the norm. “Everyone buys it,” Amy murmured to herself while piling the filthy socks, underwear and singlets into the machines. Surrounding Amy was in an inhuman size wash room crowded with brainwashed workers. It was one of the Divisions that all the woman from 10 years of age go into. What nobody could understand was that all the woman did was serve for the men, no one knew different except for Amy.

The division was airy. The last few workers were heading through the glass doors that sucked a fresh breeze in which brushed passed Amy’s back. It was getting quiet, to quiet. While she took out her last load of clothing what she felt made her feel ill. Down the back of her neck ran a warm breath. This breath seemed to last for ever as it made its way down her spine leaving her with goosebumps on her legs. Before she could turn around her world went black. The cloth she felt wrap around her head was rancid and warm as if they had just taken it off someone else’s poor head. Amy woke up in a cell. Dazed and confused she remembered how tight the cloth was when they wrapped her up that put her to sleep. Cautiously Amy stood to her feet feeling faint and wobbly. Her head rose slowly to take a look at what was outside her steel bars. Old men with long beautiful hair were focused on her with their beady dark eyes. In a few other cells what she saw shocked her. Woman lots of women that looked exactly like her. Shaved head, leather clothes and most of all the same evil expressions on the faces of the woman that Amy carried as well. After Sharing looks with the other prisoners she glimpsed over towards the exit door. Above the door on a big red sign she read, “DIVISIONLESS”. Now she knew. She had figured out why everyone was here. They were here for the exact same reason she was. The men with the long hair and the weak faces wanted to leave the devil’s sons, they hated being looked after by women, they wanted to do the looking after. And the girls with the short hair and the angry faces couldn’t stand slaving for the men. Just like Amy. Curiosity had rushed through her body although these people did not look so accomplished. They had no energy. Before speaking to speaking out what Amy saw made her cringe and stutter, she was steering into the eyes of her own mother.