Breathe (The Astral Series Book One)

Breathe

Chapter One

BETHANY

Breathing was impossible. God was definitely punishing me. I had done some wild things in the past year, and evidently God was seriously ticked off. Stars exploded before my eyes as the pain continued to increase. I have always prided myself on not being a whiner. I broke my arm when I was nine and barely whimpered. I didn't even cry when I cut my foot on a jagged piece of metal in the sixth grade. The fifteen stitches were not fun, but I endured them stoically.

This pain was like nothing I had ever experienced. My burning lungs demanded more oxygen. I let out the breath I was holding and instantly regretted it. I clamped my lips together as the scream caught in my throat. I refused to scream. I was afraid if I started screaming I would never be able to stop. Just when I was convinced that my spine was going to snap, the pain began to ease. I took several huge gulps of air and tried to relax before the next pain hit. I can do this. I can do this. Crap, who am I kidding? Tears flooded my eyes as I began to accept the inevitable. I was going to have a baby in this dingy little apartment, alone.

When I refused to have an abortion, my stepfather pointed to the door and gave me half an hour to get out of his house. He called me a whore, among other things, while my weary looking mother stood silently by his side with tears in her eyes. I knew my mom loved me, in her own selfish way, but she would never stand up to my step-dad. Her love for her only child did not exceed her need to belong to a man, no matter how worthless and abusive he was.

Wordlessly, I went to the little room that had been my refuge for the past seven years, to pack my meager belongings and gather what I had managed to save from my job at the diner. As I was packing, my mother slipped a couple hundred dollars in my duffle bag and hugged me good bye. Then she turned and left the room. That was it. No questions about where I was going or empty requests to keep in touch. The woman who gave birth to me walked out of my life without a backwards glance.

No big surprise. I was accustomed to the people I relied on most in the world abandoning me, so it didn't come as a shock to find myself on my own. I found out the hard way that the only person you can depend on is yourself. If you let people get too close to you at best they will let you down. At worst, they will rip your heart out and stomp on it on their way out the door. As a child I learned to erect walls up around myself and never let anyone past them. I refused to let anyone have that much power over me ever again.

Kids at school assumed my aloofness meant I was stuck up, or I was just a freak. I didn't care. I needed friends like I needed a hole in my head. I could not afford to have people who mattered in my life. I was hanging on to my sanity by my fingernails. My soul simply could not endure any more emotional trauma, so I did what I had to in order to survive--I kept everyone out. If you don't let people close to you they can't hurt you. It is a simple as that. Over the years, I learned to build a cocoon deep inside myself where I felt safe.

When the next contraction hit all I could focus on was the pain. My stomach muscles got impossibly tighter and tighter while my spine felt like it was being wrung out like a wet towel. I bit my lips until I tasted the coppery tang of my own blood. I had been informed that it was best to 'breathe through the pain' when you were in labor. I really was making an effort to but my body refused to listen to my brain. I tensed up with every contraction as the breath was stolen from my body.

Whoever informed me to breathe through the pain obviously had an easier labor than I did. This contraction was far more intense than the last, and I was already exhausted at this point. I hadn't prayed in a long time. God doesn't seem to have time to waste on a pathetic loser like me, but I was desperate.