Lena’s gaze flicked briefly toward the door, then back to the doctor.
“For tomorrow,” Dr. Hampton went on, “I want you to think about whether there’s anything you need. Something that would make these sessions easier. Paper. A pen. Maybesomething recreational to keep you busy. Anything. You may ask and I will try my best to provide it.”
She paused, watching carefully for any reaction.
“You don’t have to decide now,” she added. “But if you think of something, you can bring it up at our next appointment.”
Lena didn’t respond. She simply sat there, still and guarded, but the disbelief in her expression began softening, not to trust, but perhaps consideration.
Dr. Hampton closed her notebook. “That’s all for today.”
She stood motioning her hand toward the door. “We’ll see each other tomorrow, Lena.”
Silas led Lena back to her room at a distance, and I waited with the doctor until my brother returned.
Once we were all seated again, Dr. Hampton looked between the two of us. “I’ll outline my recommendations clearly. You can ask questions when I’m finished, but I want to be clear. These arenot suggestions.”
Silas crossed his arms. “Go ahead, doc.”
“First,” she said, “remove the bedframe. Put Lena's mattress on the floor. Provide one blanket and one pillow to start. Nothing else.”
“Sure. That will make it easier to wrangle her,” Silas said with a snort.
"It's not to make things easierfor you," she corrected him. “Everything we do isfor her.Hiding under the bed is where the omega dissociates and avoids engagement. Remove her chosen safe space and you will force her to seek comfort elsewhere."
She continued, “Add one comfort item per day, a pillow or blanket. She needs to acclimate slowly to nesting and reconnect with her omega instincts. Too much, too fast, willoverwhelm her. Through gradual introduction, comfort becomes familiar.”
Silas shook his head. “You’re training her like a dog.”
“I’m retraining her omega instincts,” Dr. Hampton shot back. “Which is what you two and Command asked me to do. It's called reconditioning.”
She flipped a page. “Second. Routine. Her days need to be identical. Wake time, then meal, recreation, meal, therapy, meal, rest, and finally lights out. Get her something recreational to help pass the time. Each event happens at exactly the same time, every day, and no deviations.”
“And if something comes up?” Silas asked.
“Then you warn her well in advance,” Dr. Hampton replied. “Predictability is safety. Routine teaches her nervous system that she can expect what comes next. Surprises equal fear and will surely send her nervous system into overdrive.”
She continued without pause, “Third. Proximity.”
Silas’s jaw tightened. “She doesn’t let us anywhere near her.”
“I know,” Dr. Hampton said. “That’s the point. She associates alpha presence with pain, not security. That association has to be dismantled.”
I asked, “How exactly do we do that?”
“When she is not sleeping, showering, or using the restroom, an alpha needs to be with her at all times,” Dr. Hampton said.
Silas let out a humorless laugh. “You want us babysitting her?”
“I want her nervous system to learn that alpha proximity does not equal harm,” she replied. “We want her to view you asneutral first, and to eventually view you as protective.”
"Fat chance of that, doc," Silas snorted, but she ignored him.
She turned another page. “Fourth. Food.”
“We feed her," my brother said with a scoff.
“She barely eats anything we give her,” I added.
