Page 144 of Captive Omega

Like labor pains.

It can last twenty-four hours. Sometimes even forty-eight.

Try as I might, I couldn’t imagine trying to push a baby out for two days, so I jumped on my laptop to watch a video of a natural birth.

Big mistake.

I have never fumbled to close a tab so fast before in my life. It was… traumatic. For me, the husband getting his hand crushed by his pregnant wife, and most of all, for her from all the screaming.

I close the book.

I don’t want Resa to hurt any more than she already has, but I don’t know how to help her.

Resa isn’t talking to anyone about what she suffered, though sometimes I’ll catch her staring off into the distance and her expression is haunted. I don’t know what she’s thinking about. I just know they can’t be happy thoughts.

I’d suggest she talk to a therapist, but I’ve been fighting a battle against seeing one for years, so I’m the last person who should be trying to convince Resa to talk through her trauma.

My trauma feels ingrained in me. It’s hard to remember what I was like before the car crash. It’s like looking back at a stranger and trying to imagine being that person.

Summer is the worst.

I settle for thin, almost skintight cotton fabric, but that doesn’t stop me from sweating. From morning to night, I’m burning up.

There’s a reason the house runs cool, and the AC is almost always running. The reason is Garrison. Everyone in the house freezes to make my trauma a little more manageable. No one complains, but it’s embarrassing and frustrating when it should be the easiest thing in the world to just wear a fucking T-shirt like everyone else.

My attention swings back to the pregnancy book on my desk.

Sadie told us to let Resa take the lead on deciding when or even if she wants to talk about the baby. The book was Garrison’s idea after Resa started bleeding. Three copies of the same book. One for Resa when she’s ready to read it.

One copy for Vaughn and Garrison to pass between them, since Vaughn is an impatiently fast reader and Garrison is a slow, thoughtful one. Vaughn finished reading in a day, then passed the book to Garrison. As the slowest reader, I have my own copy. I like to take my time, ensuring I miss nothing. All so we can help Resa through her pregnancy.

Except labor pains.

I don’t know how I can help her through that.

Back massages? Meditation? A warm bath?

How the hell is a warm bath supposed to help a woman through one of the most painful experiences of her life? Why not just start with the drugs and prevent any pain at all?

“I need to do more research that doesn’t involve birth videos or ask Sadie before this drives me crazy,” I mutter.

But it’s late now.

The glass of water I leave on my nightstand is empty, so I get to my feet and head for the door to go downstairs and refill it.

Garrison will be the only one still awake as he takes an eternity to work on a puzzle, which he says is the only thing that quietens his mind enough to sleep.

I’m nearly at the staircase when a soft female whimper halts my steps.

There’s no guessing who it is.

Resa.

Her bedroom is on the other side of the staircase. Her door must be closed. There’s not a hint of light coming from that direction.

I hesitate. Do I go knock on her door in case she’s having a nightmare?

And if she is, then what?

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