Survive [Mad Max: Fury Road]

Chapter One

"You know, hope is a mistake. If you can't fix what's broken, you'll go insane."

-Mad Max

Nothing is harmless.

Even the air I breathe corrodes my lungs, rusting them as though they were the old metal on the cars the War Boys drove. You cannot replace the flesh on your body, the lungs in your chest, or the parts of you that have been ruined. Car parts can be scavenged, fixed, replaced, altered. The human body is not so resilient, though the strength of such is so much more than that of a car; the human mind can bend, but it is not so easily broken. My body has been battered and broken, but was once prized and cherished for a time.

I would not go so far as to say that time was easier, no, the way I live now is easier on the mind but not the body. Back then I was treated like royalty, or as close to royalty I could be in a world without true monarchy, but rather, hierarchy. Immortan Joe was the king of the Citadel, so to speak, and it was simply because his fat hands held the control to the water. His goons and War Boys would die for him with the pathetic belief of a life after death, a place of shiny chrome, a place that Immortan Joe himself would bring them to. A belief that made sense when you lived in the caves and the dirt, but for those of us who were treated like royalty, we were not given the same spiel. We did not feel an urge to die for Immortan Joe, but rather, the urge to die for our own well being.

I knew that I was treated well, given food and water, mothers milk and a place to live. But it came at a great cost; the cost was that of my body. I was chosen at a young age for my perfection; no deformities, wide hips, and a beautiful face. Immortan Joe selected those around the age of ten, cherished them and gave them everything, and when they reached a proper age to begin bearing children, some at fourteen, others at eighteen, us girls had to feel the weight of his body above ours. The breathing mask he wore bearing down on us like a demon, sweat dripping onto our bodies as we fought back the urge to grimace and gag. The quieter you were through the process, the quicker it went, so I was told before my day came.

Miss Giddy came to me, the day that I was old enough. "He's coming."

I knew what it meant, I was not raised a fool even if I had been trapped in the Citadel with a chastity belt locked around my bruised and aching hips. The metal device was heavy, painful, and dangerous. I knew of girls older than me who had died because of them; infection had killed them. Though I was disgusted by the thought of Immortan Joe with or without his clothes on, I remained where I was as the old woman, covered from head to toe in black ink, explained it to me. I ran my fingers through my thick blonde hair with the strong temptation to rip it out, to make myself look undesirable, to make Immortan Joe toss me aside, but I knew that ripping out my hair would not do that. Though I would not look as beautiful, I would still produce what he would call high quality babies. Future War Lords. His strongest child, Rictus Erectus, was the same age as me, or close to, his mother long dead now. The thing about being a Breeder was that life was not pleasant. Too many children in such poor quality living meant an unhealthy woman at a young age; if they survived and produced many children, they would then be sent to the milking area, where their breast milk would be harvested as well as their babies.

When he came, I could smell the stench of human sweat, dirt that had been layered and caked on the flesh for so long that it would never be washed off. The vile man had a key hanging from his neck, and I knew that it was for the metal belt that sat upon my hips, preventing anyone from nearing the only part of my body that Immortan Joe cared about. His hands touched me as he brought the key to the lock that dangled off of the side, the metal clanking together. I wondered if the chrome that protected my body turned him on, and held back a gag. The belt fell from my body and I was relieved by the weight being removed, but I knew a heavier weight was soon to be added.

It wasn't pleasant.

I shut my eyes to hold back the tears. I dug my nails into my palms to fight the urge to cry out, the urge to dig my nails into the flesh of his face, to leave my mark. But instead of fighting back, I allowed him to violate me. I had been told that it was easier this way; fighting was not worth it. But as I lied there, moving back and forth underneath Immortan Joe's weight, I knew that I would fight back in a different way. A way that may get me killed or tossed out to the deformed down below, but a way to take control of my body, of my life. I would not let Immortan Joe have my child, even if it killed me.

When he was done, I was allowed a few minutes to clean up before the belt was put back on. He left then; instead of crying about being violated, instead of curling up and wishing my insides didn't hurt, I thought about how I was going to go through with it. Of course, I would have to wait until I knew that I was with child, which would be a few weeks' time when my monthly blood didn't arrive. Miss Giddy assisted in cleaning me up, getting me back up on my feet, but I refused any more help. I refused to let her know what I was planning on doing.

By the time I could confirm that I was with child, I knew I needed to carry through with my plan. I was not yet showing, and wouldn't for some time; no one knew that I was pregnant yet, only speculated that I was. Immortan Joe didn't visit, he didn't come see if I was with child, though I knew that within a few days he would have Miss Giddy confirm, and then I would no longer be able to go ahead with my plan. I waited until the moon shone through the open windows, clambered out of bed without waking any of the other wives, and disappeared into the furthest corner of the room. Picking the lock with items I had scavenged in the room, my skills and abilities slim, but when you were locked up all day and all night, you learned a few things to stay sane. When the belt was off of my body, I kept it close as I would need to put it back on before morning, I carried through with the procedure I knew I was going to do the moment Immortan Joe touched me.

The blood was going to be hard to cover, the panic that set in the moment I saw it, the pain that struck me like a War Rig, I was almost blinded by the pain. Trying to keep my heavy breathing in check, as to not wake the other wives or Miss Giddy, I began to reconsider choosing to self abort; it had been for my own good, to stop another War Lord from reigning terror over everyone, to stop Immortan Joe from touching me if he thought I was infertile. The panic subsided as I told myself that I would survive this; I had done the job, and though it had been painful and messy, I probably would be able to walk back to my bed. I knew it was done, I knew that I couldn't turn back. Every as I winced in pain with every moment, I cleaned up my own blood and disposed of the fabrics that had been stained in the process. With a heavy weight on my shoulders, I forced myself to dress myself again, in fresh white fabrics. The white fabric could give away my risky course of action, if I bled through it, but I slipped the chastity belt back on with only a single cry of pain, and stumbled back to my bed. I lied awake that night, biting my lip to hold back the tears that were forced out from the pain, wondering if in my decision to fake infertility, if I had become just that.

I hoped so.

So here is something a got up and started writing a few days ago, I've only written a few paragraphs into the second chapter, so updates won't likely be daily (as all my previous stories were), and I have no idea how long it will end up being. I was aiming for ten chapters, but more likely than not it will be a lot longer. This is currently based a few years prior to the film Mad Max: Fury Road, but will eventually coincide with the events of such film.