Page 59 of Drown My Sorrow

The doctor leans forward and puts a hand on my knee. She’s got long lashes and kind eyes, but I don’t like her at all.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I say through numb lips.

My mother is just staring at the doctor. She’s got no emotion left in her.

“I’m saying you can’t have children, Aspyn. We don’t know why yet, but it would appear that while you will still get heats, you won’t be able to get pregnant. The damage to your ovaries was minimal but your womb was substantial. It would appear that it’s messed with your heats and that is showing that you simply aren’t ovulating. So, it basically boils down to no eggs, no babies.”

“What does that mean, though?”

“It means you cannot have children. Luckily, there are many options: fostering, adoption, surrogacy.”

I stare at the doctor. “I’m seventeen. I can’t walk without a limp, and I’m in pain all the time. Who is going to give me a child to look after when I can’t look after myself?”

“Yes, but in the future-” The doctor frowns. “Your pack will want an omega who can bear children. I mean, if you can’t-”

She stops, blushing, but we can all hear the unspoken words. What use is an omega who is not only broken in body and mind, but now isn’t even capable of carrying children? What pack would want her?

I’m going to be alone forever, anyway. My alpha rejected me. I don’t say this, but I know my mother is thinking it. Kelly Raines was my last hope.

“It’s not going to be a problem,” I say dismissively, trying to push the agony and devastation deep inside me. “I’m more interested in my heats. What is going on with them?” How do I stop them so I never have to deal with a pack?

“Well, we aren’t sure exactly, but I would say due to the physical, emotional, and mental stress you have been under, your body has simply adapted to the stress, and instead of getting a heat every five to twelve weeks, it would appear you are going to get them every seven months or longer. Who knows, they may stop one day, and they might start again. But I doubt they will ever return to a typical heat pattern.” She frowns. “Trauma affects hormones in a fascinating way. Some people can mask what they are and some can turn it off. But, for you, it seems to have lengthened the cycles. It’s really quite unique.”

I nod and smile and say all the right things.

At night in bed, with mum sleeping beside me, I stare at the wall.

I can’t have children.

I can’t even be a mother.

I am broken in every way.

No one will ever want me.

I hadn’t even had a chance to think about it, and now they are gone. Any children. My children. Gone.

What else can I lose before my mind snaps?

Slowly, I bring my hand to my mouth and bite down hard to stop my silent sobs from waking my mother.

PresentDay

Cassie’s Crystals and Fortunes is my home away from home. I’m proud of what I’ve achieved. Despite what Kelly said. It’s just a stall, but it’s mine, and I worked hard to build it up. With this little space, I can earn a living, not a good one, but it’s something.

I rearrange the gemstones and sit on the stool that Beau bought me. I will never tell him how much it helps, but I suspect he knows both that I am so eternally grateful for the small things they do and that I will never admit to it.

All around me are different types of stalls. Carrie is selling fresh fruit and jams she made. Rai sells tourist-approved items like postcards, toys made out of coconuts, and shells.

I alone stand out.

People rush around, the early risers leading the morning routines. Opening shops and stalls. All locals. The familiar sounds of a bustling market as we all push to get ready to flaunt our wares to cash-happy tourists. The visitors either walk or jog in the early morning light or limp their way home reeking of booze.

The people who work beside me day in and day out pretend I don’t exist.

Most of them. If I’m lucky.

Gwen saunters past. She doesn’t have to work, her parental pack own the hotel. She’s as close to royalty as you get out here. There’s a proverbial silver spoon in her mouth, and she has this mean streak a mile wide. She doesn’t like her toys broken.

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