Dream About Living In A Cult

I went to live with a foster family in England at the age of 10, happy and hopeful that my life would change for the better. They deceived me, and carried out a coup d'état luke the handmaids tale, and forced a puritanical society where it was acceptable for 15 year old girls to marry their fathers if their mothers died, only church and oppression were accepted. They banned clothes, books, technological devices, cartoons, comics, music, movies, cosplay, nana, EVERYTHING. 5 years passed and I still lived in the basement I thought would be my room. it was still decorated the way it was before the society was implemented, but they threw away all electronic devices they could find. but they didn’t know i hid my phone and books and charger. they didn’t know i still had everything. I discovered that I could use my things hidden. my mother was a bit unstable and I was accused of killing my foster sister's husband (which I did because he tried to hurt me, and then I kept his hair in a box in my room). I started watching YouTube videos and reading a book about nana and listening to music in secret. Once, I tried to escape, but they found me and beat me. Another, my foster mother had music playing loud and accidentally shot something. I found a gun too, and started shooting knowing she wouldn't hear it. I just wanted to feel something. when my foster father arrived, he smelled the gunpowder and found out. The mother gets sick. The father starts to show interest in marrying me. I go out with the foster mom and three of her friends, and they all talk about how amazing it is that he wants to marry me. I was 15 years old. "that's disgusting!" I scream, but they don't want to know. “It’s natural,” they say. The wedding day arrives. I almost vomit. In the end, instead of leaving with him, I hit his head against a wall and ran home. There, I see my foster mother in a state of shock and despair. I don't think she was so cool with the idea of him marrying me. She looks into my eyes and screams “electrify my heart!”. She was an executioner; At home, we had machines to take the lives of people who were sentenced to death. Without thinking twice, I connected her to the wire and pressed the electric chair button. she was immediately electrified. When she died, I cut her hair and put it in the box with the other one – but she had so much hair that the box didn't close. it was a big mix of blonde from her and black from my foster sister’s husband that took up more space than it should have. I pack my bags as quickly as possible and leave the house, heading to the house of an old friend who would help me escape before my foster father and now husband could find me.