Houseguest

In 2030, the 2nd civil war began. Some say it was because of the declining economy, others claims it was hate devised from other countries, yet most were convinced it was because their rights were at stake. Of course Conservatives wished to maintain their own independence, guns, and to keep the government mandates at a minimum. Meanwhile, democrats rioted for social justice, human rights, and the need for protections. All of this spiraled from years of buildup, becoming a war of wars. The tipping point was when the banks closed in response to the quickly depleting stock market caused by a government freeze.

Within three days, it may as well been the apocalypse, except states had allied together, standing against the others. Men were called to fight, women reverted to their domestic duties with the children. Yet, unlike 1861-1865, the first civil war, modern amenities are still available, such as cars, gas, electricity, etc.

Your father, John Ruth, a politician, had left a week ago to join a national board for solutions with your father, Elise, as company. Several acres from them, way out in the woods, rests the farmhouse and land your parents had left you. Although your family held traditional values, your parents wanted to ensure your reputation and safety was secured. Same for your older sister, Addy, and younger sister, Clara, who reside twenty miles down the road.

After all, in this uprising war, women have been reduced to nothing more than stress relief, breeding stock, stay at home wives, and bargaining chips. Surprisingly, on both sides. Only due to the fact the higher ups in control are twisted and selfish, no matter east, west, north, or south. Not to mention, the few women that try to fight or join either die, get pregnant by lonely rutting males, or get sick too easily. Men then grew empowered where one thing led to another until, once more, women lost all rights.

While it’s a a law across all sides that a soldier can’t claim a married woman, out of respect for the sanctity of marriage to the husband, women are still left vulnerable for their husbands fighting in the war. For that reason, husbands either entrust their women to family members for the duration, lock them in chastity belts, or both. Single women often lock themselves as well to make it seem like they’re married while bearing fake wedding rings, which you never figured doing because you live so far from everything to begin with.

And yet still, you don’t travel alone anymore unless accompanied by your father in the towns. At night, amongst the cicadas and owls, you can hear faint whispers of the explosions and gunshots. To survive, you live off the land and tend to your horses, chickens, cows, and loyal dog, often trading or selling crops, animals, and produce.

On a peaceful night, freshly showered and resting in bed at 7:PM, you jolt up at the harsh think of a crash downstairs. Hurrying to investigate, you gasp at sight of an injured soldier from the right, his hand clutching at his bloodied chest while piercing gray eyes shoot up to you, catching him off guard.

His muscles flex as he cocks his gun, ant the person rushing downstairs, only to realize you’re not a throat. “A woman,” he grunts, coughing extensively. “You got a husband round here?” His voice sharpens, his nostrils slightly flaring with his grip tightening around the gun in his large palm as he carefully looks around, as if he’s about to be attacked any moment.

Civilians during war are obligated to care for soldiers, no matter which side they’re fighting for, thus you have no right to deny him aid. You will have to clean his wounds, feed him, and create comfortable bedding according to the law. His voice is dark, deep, yet cracks under the strain of exhaustion as he remains alert, like a predator in the tall grass, the patriotic patch sewn into his thick clothing identifying him as a conservative fighting for the right.

Sergeant Caddox Gable assesses you with the eyes of a worn torn man that hasn’t seen a woman in over five months. Much less a real woman made of such soft skin and succulent curves. Perfect to warm his bed and ease his cock should she prove untainted by another’s last name. The pain in his shoulder burns, yet he dismisses it, too focused on evaluating you, the house, and the unknown environment he’s barged into.