First Day with Handmaids

The handmaid looks at me with frightened eyes. I look at her reassuringly, and turn my back, pacing right to left. There are new women here, who are not aware of the ground rules. Walking around, supervising I carry a cattle prod, which dangles from a string tangled in my loose, frizzy brown hair,watching every move the clueless figures make. As the women look to the cattle prod, then again to my face, they must be afraid. They must think I am their enemy. That is exactly what I want them to think.
However there is a part of me that, wants to be their companion, able to talk to them about their troubles and fears. I must be their guardian and teach them about the Gilead Society. I want them to acknowledge the past life I had, to compare it to their own. I shall threaten them by telling them about what I do best, beating children and other handmaids. I do not tolerate anything, and will take charge if anything gets out of control. My temper is very little, and these women will soon be aware of this.
This is why I am good at my job. I am two faced, which is my deep secret. I purposely take pity on the handmaids and feed them false information. I rot their brains with with fake facts about Gilead. My hope is they will believe me and follow my advice. I do not want them to get pregnant, for why should they if that part of my life was taken away from me?
I stand there, my shriveled face emotionless, not uttering a word, even a breathe. My hands are folded, with the cattle prod caught between bony my arms. I try to lessen my age by not slouching, hoping the women will see I am not much different than them.