BOOK II - CHAPTER XV - Christian and Anastasia FanFiction

TORTURES END ME,

DEATH BEFRIEND ME;

OF ALL PAINS, THE GREATEST PAIN,

IS TO LOVE, AND TO LOVE IN VAIN

CHAPTER XV

 “I was so scared,” is all I can whisper. Scared to my core, like I had never before. The feeling of loss was gut wrenching. Anastasia swallows hard with relief and her eyes swim in brewing tears. I keep my gaze on her without blinking, and in a soft and low voice I continue. (←You’re the Only Woman by Ambrosia)

“When I saw Ethan arrive your apartment building, the horrible realization dawned on me. Someone had let you into your apartment and it wasn’t him.  Both Taylor and I leapt out of the car so fast. We just knew she let you in and to see her there like that with you... and armed with a gun. I died a thousand deaths, Ana! Seeing someone threatening you... threatening your life...” I choke on my words, and close my eyes shut tight.  I can only whisper the rest of my thoughts. “That was my worst fears realized. I was so angry with everyone... So angry with her, with you,” I say swallowing, and gazing into her eyes, “with Taylor, and with myself. I think I was angry with the whole world.”

It is difficult to word the agony consuming my heart, the hell fire burning within me. “I didn’t know how volatile Leila would be. I didn’t know what to do. I felt helpless!” I say looking into her tormented eyes, willing her to understand me. “I didn’t know how she react, Ana. I was scared for you.” I stop to gather my thoughts, ease my heavily beating heart. I look at her face scrutinizing, trying to see if I’m getting through to her.

She shakes her head understanding, and motion me to continue. She wants to hear me out. I feel relief.

I swallow and continue.

“I was distraught as a result of seeing Leila in that mental and physical state, and knowing that I might have something to do with her mental breakdown...” I couldn’t continue. My fuckeduppedness comes to the surface like the oil slick upon the ocean. I rub my face with both hands. I know I must have contributed to her state somehow. The thought is agonizing. “You have to understand Ana; she was always so mischievous and lively,” I say. I broke her I suppose. The thought is excruciating and my consciousness is weighing heavy on me. I feel responsible, and it’s torturous. I take a raspy breath, pushing the sobs down. I feel guilt ridden. What I might have done to wrong Leila in the past, might have killed Anastasia. I would have died! I would be a living dead! I look up to her eyes in pain.

“She might have harmed you. And it would have been entirely my fault.” My sins and my karma are catching up with me, and I had to make it right; fix it. I couldn’t have left Leila broken. The horror that she had a gun in a delirious mental state, trying to exact revenge on me through Anastasia was horrendous. I guess that’s why the mob goes after one’s loved ones. Killing you wouldn’t cause continuous torture. What Promethean misery would I have lived had she done that?

“But she didn’t, Christian,” whispers Anastasia. “You weren’t responsible for her being in that mental or physical state,” she says fervently. She motions me to continue, but still some sadness laced behind her eyes.  Her gaze is clouded with a worry that I don’t want her, or I may not possibly want her in the future. How could I not want or desire my own soul, my own heart? I need her more than my next breath! How could she possibly think that? She is still worried about the fact that I tried to remove her from her apartment. Doesn’t she understand that Leila was unstable and I needed to stabilize her?

“I just wanted you gone, Ana. I wanted you to be away from the danger which I felt was still present. You. Just. Wouldn’t. Go...” I hiss. I was scared that the danger was still present, and Anastasia’s presence was making it hard for me to focus. She exasperates me all the time. I shake my head. I love her so much, it kills me that she doesn’t get that simple fact – everything I do, I do it for her! (←Everything I Do by Bryan Adams)

I look into her eyes intently, willing her to understand, and feel my love. “Anastasia Steele, you are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever known,” I say as I close my eyes and the fact that she can drive me mad with one look, one word, she can make me sheet clawing hot and aroused with one bite of her lip, and exasperate me with one single gaze make me insanely in love with her... She’s maddening, she’s exasperating, she’s my panacea, and she’s my life. She’s everything to me! Losing her would be losing all... I finally open my eyes, and look at her with a despairing gaze. “So you weren’t going to run?” I ask.

“No!” she shouts firmly, scolding me.

When I close my eyes again, it’s with relief this time, letting it wash over my entire being, relaxing me for the first time during this worst day of my life. But the thought and the pain that comes along with being unworthy shows its ugly head unbidden giving me utter anguish.

“I really thought,” I say stopping, “I thought you would leave...” I can’t bring myself to complete this sentence. “Look at me Ana! What you see here is me... All of me.  Though it is fucked up, I’m all yours. What do I have to make you realize that?” I ask... “I am ALL YOURS.” I reiterate boring into her eyes. “What can I do to make you realize and see that? I want you and only you ... any possible way I can get you...” I say ardently. “That I love you,” I whisper with all of my heart and desire.

“I love you too, Christian!” she replies immediately. “But, to see you like this is...” she says breaking off and choking on her words as her tears start streaking again. Her lips quiver in misery, her face forlorn, and she looks like she’s writhing in agony. “I thought I’d broken you,” she sobs with her face in her hands.

I reach out to her immediately, and take her hands from her face keeping them in mine. “Baby no! You have not broken me, Ana! It’s just the opposite. Because, you’re my lifeline,” I whisper as I kiss her knuckles, and her palms.

I want her to have me... Feel me... All of me. I slowly pull her right hand, and place it on my chest, over my heart to let her feel how it’s beating for her. Pounding out of my chest frantically! My gaze is fixed on hers, my jaw is tense and clenched shut. I want her to touch me. All over me. No zone is forbidden to her. She will have all of me! Her face changes, and her eyes are full of love, awe; her breathing increases as her chest rises up and down in rapid succession. The rhythm of her heart is matching mine with her increased pulse.  (←The Rhythm of My Heart by Rod Stewart)

I want her to do this freely. Without the coercion of my hands. I release her hand from my hold, and let her hand feel my heart beating for her frantically in love and excitement. Anastasia flexes her fingers feeling my chest beneath the thin fabric of my shirt. I’m holding my breath, trying to get used to the feeling of touch on my chest. Trying to get over the fear, and bury the apprehension once and for all. Anastasia slightly lifts off the palm of her hand to remove it from my chest feeling my tension.

“No!” I say with fear. “No, don’t...” I say quickly covering her hand with mine and press it down over my heart. “No... You belong,” I say simply. If anyone belongs to all of my body, it’s Anastasia. It’s hers to have and hold anyway she wishes. She looks up at me, and shuffles closer to my body and our knees are touching. She lifts her other hand, looking into my eyes, making her intention clear. She wants to touch me with both hands on my bare chest. I grow anxious and my eyes widen. I have not been touched like this in a very, very long time. But right now, there is nothing in the world I want more than for Anastasia to touch me! I crave the connection with her. I want her to have all of me, possess me, and complete me.

Anastasia’s fingers start to undo the buttons on my shirt with her left hand. She’s having a hard time doing it with just one hand. The ghost of a smile reaches up on my lips. She flexes her right hand letting me know she wants to use both hands. I remove my hand from top of hers and she starts undoing the buttons one by one while her gaze is locked with mine; our connection is established. God! There is not another thing or person I love more than this woman!

She unbuckles all of the buttons finally opening my chest up for her touch. I swallow hard, my breathing increases to accommodate my rising pulse, my lips part and my eyes widen. This is it! She looks at me, seeking permission, trying to decipher what I want. I need this! I want this connection. She reaches up with her hands, still not touching. Still seeking to understand me, understand if I’m letting her willingly. Her gaze is seeking, questioning, communicating without words. Her hands just hover right above my chest, above what used to be the forbidden zone. I tilt my head to the side, bracing myself, anticipating her touch. My body is tense, and the tension is radiated through my pores, strong and palpable. Fear is trying to consume me. Fear of the past tortures, fear of what might surface, fear of helplessness. But, I can’t associate these fears with Anastasia. She’s the miracle to save me from these fears!

Anastasia doesn’t touch. Her hands remain hovering, hesitant; careful not to make contact.

“Yes,” I give permission to her in a breath. Touch me, Ana! (←You Put a Move On My Heart by Tamia)

Her fingertips extend and slightly brush my chest hair still not making contact with skin. So subtle, so gentle. Her brushing fingertips start at the top of my chest and move down to my sternum. I close my eyes in colliding agony and pleasure. For once, my future is going to win over my fuckedup past. My face is creased with the ongoing battle raging within me. Killing the agonizing memory of the pimp. Anastasia’s killing his hatred and abuse and animosity with her love. The battle is painful. I’m once again caught between my painful past and my loving future. My future has to win! The realization of this fills my eyes with immense love, and dark lust. This is a soul wrenching battle!

After seeing this battle raging in me, Anastasia removes her fingers from my chest, lifting them off, making me feel bereft. I grab her hand, and firmly place it on my bare chest. She has to do it! She is the one to break this fucking curse that laced my entire life.

“No,” I command her, my voice still strained with the raging internal battle. “I need to...” Her fingers are touching me again, and my eyes are squeezed shut so tightly, not even the light passes through my eyelids. Anastasia’s fingers travel upon my chest slowly, learning the contours, feeling my forbidden zone for the first time, familiarizing herself with my body. Her touch is magical. I open my eyes slowly to gaze into hers. My eyes are blazing with heat. The fear is trying to resurface, but the love I feel for Ana, the love she is exuding for me are overwhelming. My mouth goes slack finally. I’m panting with this overwhelming struggle. The ghost of my past fighting with pain, and the love of Anastasia with pleasure. The ultimate pain and pleasure zone. (←The Lady in My Life by Michael Jackson)

Anastasia’s stance changes; she leans up on her knees and holds my gaze; she wants to kiss me... on my chest. I don’t move. I permit her to kiss me. She finally leans in and soft as a butterfly’s touch, she plants a kiss over my heart. Her soft lips, softened even more as a result of her cries are upon my chest. The sensation I receive from the slightest of touches is the most immense I have ever felt. The pain and pleasure registering on my nerves are off the charts! A strangled groan escapes my lips, and she mistakes it for only pain and sits up right away. No!

“Again,” I whisper as my eyes still shut tightly. She leans into my chest again, and kisses one of the scars courtesy of the pimp putting out his cigarette butt. I groan loudly, and suddenly I feel this enormous flow of love towards Anastasia, like I’ve never felt before. Before I know it, my arms embrace her, and my right hand travels to her hair, pulling her head up to meet my lips forcefully, and strongly. My lips and my mouth are insistent, demanding, desirous, voracious, and hungry for her. Hungry for her affection; for her love. She reciprocates to my demanding kiss with a ferocity and hunger of her own. Her hands find their way to my hair, knotting, pulling, and trying to merge us together. We’re kissing as if this is the last day on earth, as if there is no tomorrow; our love is binding, consuming, fiery, and oddly healing.

I pull back breathless, and manage to twist around and pull Anastasia, my woman, my life down on the floor, underneath me. “Oh, Ana,” I breathe, and her face has nothing but love, and desire for me. Her hands reach up to my face cupping, as her thumbs slowly caress my cheeks. I feel overwhelmed with love, overwhelmed with want, overwhelmed that she wants me despite the fact I am utterly fucked up--emotions brim and explode, and tears start rolling from my eyes. Finally fear is being washed out of my system with her love, through her love.

“Please Christian, don’t cry,” she pleads with me. “I meant what I said: I would never, ever leave you. I mean it! I am so very sorry if I gave you any other indication... Please Christian, please, forgive me. I love you. I will always love you,” she says fervently. (←I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston)

Her declaration sears my heart with pain. My face falls with an anguished, sorrowful expression. She still doesn’t know the darkest secret in my heart. I’m bad... I am very very very bad!

“What is it?” she asks. I swallow. Pain of hiding a dark secret from Anastasia is unbearable.

“Christian, what is this secret that makes you think I’ll run away? What makes you so determined to believe I’ll go and leave you?” she begs in a quivering voice.

“Please tell me, Christian, please...” she begs.

I sit up immediately, another battle raging in me. I cross my legs; she too sits up, outstretching her legs. My gaze is upon her, still battling whether to reveal my last dark shit to her. My soul feels like the wasteland it is; my eyes reflect the abandonment in it. I don’t know how to bare this to her. It’s hell... It’s me. It’s what a freak of nature I am.

“Ana..” I can barely whisper. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and swallow. I say a silent prayer for her to still love me after my revelation. I open my eyes, and bare the last of my secrets to her.

“I’m a sadist Ana,” I say sadly. “I like to whip and punish brown haired girls like you because all of you look like the my birth mother, the crack whore. I’m sure you can guess the reasons why,” I say in one breath. I love her; I want to be open with her. Have no secrets from her, and this was the last shit. Now, I expect she will want to have nothing to do with me. Peace of shit! Like the pimp said. I’m shattering my own fucking world, but I owe this truth to Anastasia. I think she’ll leave the second she gets over her shock. I swallow, my eyes wide, my heart in my hand ready to be shattered into pieces, I wait for her to get up and run as fast as her legs carry her out the door. (←Without You by Mariah Carey)

She looks at me gaping, lost, worried, sad, upset, bewildered, and confused; and she manages to store all those feelings in one gaze. She looks as if I turned her world upside down which of course I did.

“But...” she stops, “you said you weren’t a sadist,” she whispers. I never said I wasn’t. I just didn’t say I was; I just omitted the information, because I desperately wanted her, like I never wanted anything in my life.

“No,” I reply. “I said I was a Dominant. If I lied to you Ana, it was a lie of omission. I’m sorry,” I say looking down at my hands, contrite. I am terrified of finding out how she will react. If she hasn’t run before, she will surely run now. I keep telling myself in my head over and over again, I can’t hide this from her. She deserves better from me. Please don’t run. Please don’t run. Please don’t run, Ana!

“When you asked me that question, I was contemplating a different relationship between the two of us,” I murmur in a soft voice.

A whimper like sound escapes her lips mournfully.

“It’s true then,” she whispers, her gaze meeting mine, utterly grieved. “I can’t give you what you need,” she utters. “How could I? Of course...” she says softly, almost inaudibly. Her face falls, and so does my heart.

“No! No! No! No! NO! Ana, NO! You can, and you do give me what I need...” My fists are clenched so tightly blood is drained out of them, leaving my knuckles completely white. “You must believe me! Please Ana!” I beg fervently.

“Christian, right now, I don’t know what to believe. This is beyond fucked up,” she whispers, choking, her eyes are brimming with tears again. (←Sorrow from the Gladiator)

I want her to know that her love is what changed me.

“Please believe me Ana! After I punished you with the belt, and you left me,” I say choking on my words with the horrible feelings resurfacing, “my entire worldview changed. All of it! I was very serious when I said I would do anything to avoid ever feeling like that again,” I plead my case with her, pained and sorrowful. “When you told me you loved me, it was a revelation for me. Do you know that no one has ever said that to me before? With your love, I had laid something to rest... I don’t know maybe it was you who laid it to rest for me. Changed me. Dr. Flynn and I are still discussing on the topic. Our jury is still out on the verdict..” I reveal.

Her face finally has a slight glimmer of hope... Hope for us. “What does that all mean for us?” she asks in a whisper. (←Now We Are Free from the Gladiator)

“What it means is that I don’t need that anymore. Not now.”  Not ever. I’m liberated from my own confines. She’s doubtful. “How do you know? How can you be so sure of it?” she asks.

“I know it because, the thought of hurting you...” I say painfully, “I mean really hurting you in any real way is completely abhorrent, repulsive to me,” I say with blazing eyes. I won’t let anyone hurt her, least of all me!

“I don’t really understand Christian. What about spanking and rulers and all of that kinky fuckery?”

My hand runs through my hair, and I sigh remorsefully. “I’ve had a heavy load of shit, Anastasia. Do you have any idea what I can do with a cane or a cat?” I say. She looks at me shocked with her jaw dropping to the floor. “I’d rather not,” she gasps her eyes wide.

“I know,” I reply. I know she doesn’t want to be part of that life, and I’m alright with that. “If you wanted to do that, or be a part of that, then fine, since you don’t, I get it. I can’t and won’t do that shit with you if you don’t want to. I’ve told you this before; you are the one with all the power. And since you came back, I don’t feel that compulsion at all, Ana. None.”

This revelation scares Anastasia, but she forges on with her question. “But, when we met, when you first approached me, that’s what you wanted... from me?” she asks.

“Yes, unquestionably,” I reply.

“Christian, how can your compulsion just go and leave you? You think I’m some kind of panacea, cure for all of your issues... so you think for the want of a better word, you think you’re cured? I don’t get it.”

I sigh of course. I’m not cured. But, with Anastasia, I’m not sick either.

“I wouldn’t say I’m cured...” I say but unable to complete that sentence when she has this doubtful look she’s giving me. “Don’t you believe me Ana?” I ask in a pleading voice.

“Christian, I find it unbelievable. Which doesn’t mean ‘I don’t believe you;’ it’s means it’s hard to believe.”

“Anastasia, if you had never left me, I probably wouldn’t feel this way. But then, when you walked out on me, it was perhaps the best thing you ever did for us... for our relationship. That one single act made me realize how much I want you... not the kinky stuff I want to do to you... but just you, and you alone. I want you to believe me when I say it: I will take you any way I can have you Ana. Any way you want me,” I say with all my sincerity. She is all I want. I want to be all she wants, all she needs. I want to be worthy of Anastasia. I want to be the only man she needs. (←All the Man That I Need by Whitney Houston)

She looks at me confused, dumbstruck, and by the looks of her face, she has storm front of an approaching hurricane of a headache. She’s trying to wrap her head around my truckload of shit, if she even wants to touch it.

“You’re still here,” I say softly having expected her to run away and never look back. She had the right to do it, and I owed her this piece of information. I couldn’t have lived with myself if she didn’t know every last dark corner of my worthless soul. “I thought you would be out the door by now,” I whisper.

“Why would I possibly want to do that, Christian?” she scolds me angrily. “Because I might think you’re a sicko for whipping and fucking women who look like your birth mother? Whatever would give you that impression Christian?” she hisses at me chastising, making me blanche. I deserve that, of course; but hearing that from Anastasia hurts, still. Love, fucking hurts!

“I wouldn’t have worded quite like that, but in short, yes,” I manage to respond, perturbed. I realize once again that Anastasia can hurt me with words alone; even she if uttered them deservedly, and not just with her actions.  She is the only one who has the capacity and potential to hurt me in more than one way; my life is depends on her. She can shatter it just by leaving me and build me up with one smile of hers.

My gaze is on Anastasia, unblinking, unwavering, and expectant. I love her, damn it! Will you love me back and build me up, or leave me in a perpetual ruin, Ana? Tell me! I look at her beseeching.

She sighs, and shakes her head.

“I’m completely worn out Christian. Can we talk about this tomorrow? I want to go to bed. I’m just too tired.”

Huh? What? I was expecting her to hightail out of here without turning back. Surprised, shocked, happy, elated, and relieved, “You’re not going?” I ask, in a stupid manner.

“Do you want me to go?” she asks, worried. Of course not! I was dreading the prospect; I just had to be truthful, open all the way.

“No, baby! I don’t. I thought...” I close my eyes with distress, and then open my eyes and look into hers forlorn, “I thought, you would leave me once you knew my worst secret.”

She looks at me with love, confusion, and complete frustration. I love her so much! My heart is and always will be Anastasia’s... When it comes to Anastasia, I want her all to myself in the most selfish way. I’m ardent when it comes to my feelings for her. My constant worry that she will someday think my shitload of fuckedupness is too much and leave me is invariably making me insecure. I make mistakes often enough when it comes to our relationship, because it’s all too new for me. When I get angry which seems often, I feel out of control, though I try my best to restrain myself and remind myself that punishment is off the table. And Anastasia can handle me and calm me down like no one else! She knows me at my worst, and yet she still seems to love me. Frustrated yes, but she still loves me!

Though I still worry that she will leave me. She left me once even though she declared she loved me.

“Don’t leave me, please,” I beg in a whisper. I will do anything; I will fight to keep her. (←War of My Life by John Meyer)

She looks at me in her most frustrated gaze, squinting her eyes, and shouts:

“Oh, for crying out loud, Christian! Once again, no! I am not going anywhere!” Her scolding is the most welcome sound in the whole world.

“Really?” I ask relieved.

Her face takes a lecturing expression. Stern, determined, and intent. “What exactly can I do to make you understand, and believe me that I will not run? What can I say to make you believe?” she asks exasperated.

There is one thing she can do... There is one question she can answer. In fact, that was something that has been brewing in my head, and I was hoping for better circumstances, but, it’s got to be now. The fear creeps up again, and feeling of unworthiness is paramount. But, I’ve a selfish heart. It wants what it wants, what it desires. The object of my desire is right before me. I swallow as if it’s an unattainable goal, but one I would die trying.

I swallow. “There is one thing you can do to make me believe, Anastasia,” I say.

“What?” she snaps running out of patience.

“Marry me,” I whisper. “Be my wife.”

“Huh?” she sounds dumbstruck. This wasn’t what she was expecting. She’s not sure if she heard me right. She bites her lip, hard. Not in contemplation, but to stop herself from laughing! Laughing, for crying out loud!! She is laughing at my proposal hysterically! She laughs so hard, she falls backward onto the floor and she is howling in laughter! I’m glad I can provide some entertainment, though I’m not sure if I want my feelings to be the source of her ridicule. Is she ridiculing me? Is my proposal just ludicrous to her? Her arms are covering her face, draping and trying to hide her overwhelming emotions. I know she’s had a trying evening. But, come on Ana, you’re wounding my ego!

When her laugher slowly subsides and the sounds of her hysteria turns into cries, I lift her arms off her face. She turns and gazes up at me. Well, we both had a hard evening. I turn my hand over and wipe away her tears from her cheeks.

“Do you find my marriage proposal amusing Miss Steele?” I ask trying to hide my hurt. But she understands it. Somehow she always does. Her hand reaches up, and gently she caresses my cheek and feels the day old stubble on my face. I lean my face into her touch.

“Oh, Mr. Grey,” she sighs shaking her head. “Christian, your sense of timing without a doubt is...” she pauses, “...is,” she says unable to fully complete her sentence, still at a loss for words.

I smirk at her, but it’s only for her benefit. I want her in the worst way. Yet, she doesn’t seem to share my sentiment. The fact is, I feel rejected, denied, unwanted. It’s isolating, especially when I reach out to her, and my hands are left hanging, empty. My eyes betray me, betray my feelings.

“You’re deeply wounding me here, Ana. Will you marry me?” I ask most ardently. Please say yes, baby! Please say, yes! (←I Melt With You Nouvelle Vague)

She sits up and leans over me. As she places her hands on my knees, she stares into my eyes, and sighs. “Goodness, Christian! You know what a night I’ve had! I’ve met your psychotic ex-sub with a gun pointed at my head, you’ve thrown me out of my own apartment, and just within the last few hours you’ve gone thermonuclear Fifty on me...” she starts her recriminations. I open my mouth to rebuttal, but, Anastasia holds up a hand to finish her thoughts. I close my mouth to let her say her peace.

“Christian, baby, you’ve just conceded some very shocking information about yourself, and now you asked me to marry you. Quite frankly, I’m a little overwhelmed with everything,” she declares.

She’s right of course. So, it’s not a yes, but not a no either. I shake my head to her assessment. “Yes, I think that’s a very accurate précis of the situation,” I acquiesce.

She finally smiles at me and asks, giving my words back to me. “Whatever happened to delayed gratification Mr. Grey?”

“I’m quite over that notion. I’m a very firm advocate of instant gratification now. Carpe diem, Ana,” I whisper. Seize the day! (←Notion by Kings of Leon)

“Oh Christian, look, we’ve only known each other for about three minutes. But there is so much more I need to know. But right now is not a good time to give you an answer because I’ve had too much to drink, I’m still hungry, I’m beyond exhausted, and right now, I just want to go to bed. I will consider your proposal just as I considered your contract you gave me,” she states. Then her face takes a displeasured expression with her lips pressed together hard. “And, of course,” she mutters shaking her head disappointed, “that really wasn’t the most romantic proposal.”

Oh! Okay! I can live with that. I’m nothing if not a fast learner. I tilt my head to the side and a smile creeps up on my lips. “Fair point well made as always Miss Steele,” I breathe with relief. “So, that’s not a no?” she asks.

Anastasia sighs with exasperation. “No, Mr. Grey, as you correctly assessed, it’s not a no, however, it’s not a yes, either.” She looks doubtful of my intentions, and adds, “You’re just doing this, asking me to marry you because you’re very scared, and you don’t trust me.”

That’s not right Ana!

“No, I’m doing this, I’m asking you to marry me, to be my wife, because I finally met someone that I want to spend the rest of my life with,” I say with all my heart. Anastasia’s mouth drops open. I managed to shock her once again this evening.

“I would have never thought that this would happen to me, finding that special someone,” I say completely enamored, and utterly sincere in my feelings. Anastasia continues to gape at me. She blinks, and finally finds a few words she can string together to make a sentence that makes sense.

“Can I just think about this please Christian? I also need to think over everything else that happened today. You once asked me faith and patience. Well, right back at ya Mr. Grey. I need you to reciprocate,” she utters.

I scrutinize her face; trying to make sure she’s not brushing me off, and saying no. Once I make sure she isn’t, I feel relief, lean in and with an intimate gesture, I tuck a lose strand of her hair behind her ear. I nod my head acquiescing. “Okay Ana; I can live with that,” I reply. She is right of course. Anastasia is all hearts and flowers, and clearly my proposal wasn’t. After kissing her tenderly on her lips I mutter, “You didn’t think it was so romantic, huh?” She shakes her head in the negative chiding. “You want hearts and flowers?” I ask softly, knowing her answer. She nods, and I smile with relief. So, she is seriously going to consider my proposal. I can do a cartwheel with joy here! Okay, all I have to do is to find a way to blow her mind away....hearts and flowers, hearts and flowers, hearts and flowers for Ana.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“Yes,” she replies. Oh, fuck! She’s been hungry all this time? It bothers me that she has, and she drank too!

“You didn’t eat,” I state the obvious. I look at her coldly, reprovingly. Why did she drink excessively without eating? I’ve told her that before. My expression hardens, as I narrow my eyes on her.

“Of course I didn’t eat,” she says sitting back on her heels, her arms crossed ready to fight with me. “It was a bit hard to think about food after having been thrown out of my own apartment by my very own boyfriend who was intimately interacting with his ex-sub which I believe substantially suppressed my appetite,” she replies icily with an impassive glare. She is right of course. I didn’t want to eat either when Mrs. Jones asked me if I wanted to have my dinner. I stand up, and proffering my hand to Anastasia, I pull her to her feet.

“Alright then; let me fix something for you to eat.”

“Oh,” she groans, “Can’t I just go to bed and sleep?” she says her hand still in mine. I can’t help it. It’s hard for me to know that she’s hungry. I can’t send her to bed without food. “No, baby. You’re hungry and you must eat. Come on,” I say and lead her to the kitchen, and park her atop a barstool. I make my way to the fridge in hopes of finding something that will pique her interest.

“Oh Christian, I don’t feel hungry anymore,” she says. Of course you do, baby. So I ignore her complaints.

“Would you like cheese?” I ask. Something light.

“Not at this hour,” she responds.

“How about pretzels?”

“Cold from the fridge? No thanks,” she says brusquely.

“You really don’t like pretzels?” I turn and ask her smiling.

“I don’t like them at eleven thirty at night. I’m going to bed now, Christian. You can rummage around the fridge all you want. I’m quite tired, and had a very long and a very interesting day. Incidentally, it’s a day I’d like to forget quickly,” she says sliding off her barstool to leave.

“Wait! How about macaroni and cheese?” It’s comfort food. I hold up the bowl containing delicious homemade macaroni and cheese, looking hopeful that she might say yes.

She stops in her tracks. “Do you like macaroni and cheese Christian?” she asks as if it’s an impossible idea. Who doesn’t?

“Would you like some?” I ask hopefully. I can’t help it. I have to provide for her. I have to feel I’m taking care of her. After all that shit that came to her way today, I want to do one positive thing to make me feel I’ve done something for her benefit. She doesn’t leave for bed...not yet.

“I gather you know how to use the microwave then?” she says in a questioning tone. Yes, I have mad microwave skills. I can punch in the numbers like no one can!

“Yes, if it’s in a package, I can usually do something with it. On the other hand, I have a problem with real food.” She’s still standing, so before she darts off the kitchen I start setting the placemats for both of us.

“It’s quite late,” she mutters.

“You don’t have to go to work tomorrow. Please don’t go,” I plead with her.

“Oh Christian, I do have to go to work. My boss is leaving for New York tomorrow.” That fucker! I frown.

“Do you want to go to New York this weekend?” I ask.

She shakes her head in the negative. “Not really. I checked the weather forecast, and it’s supposed to rain this weekend.” Okay.

“Well then, what would you like to do over the weekend?” I ask. I take the macaroni and cheese out of the microwave after its heated.

Anastasia sighs, “I just want to go through one day at a time for the time being. All this excitement is exhausting,” she states raising an eyebrow. I know. Elena and now Leila. I don’t know what I would do if it was one of her exes. I’d go crazy for sure. I dish out some mac and cheese for both of us, and set the plates on the placemats on the breakfast bar.

“I’m sorry about Leila,” I say chagrined.

“Why are you sorry Christian?” she genuinely asks.

I shrug. “I know it had to be a terrible shock for you finding Leila in your apartment like that,” I say shuddering. “Taylor swept the apartment earlier himself, and he’s devastated,” I confess.

“I don’t blame him; it’s not Taylor’s fault,” she says.

“I don’t either. Taylor’s been out looking for you,” I tell her.

“What, really? Why?” she asks genuinely.

Oh baby! Do you know how upset I was, how devastated finding out you didn’t come back here?

“I didn’t know where you went. Your purse and your phone were in the SUV. I had no way of tracking you,” I say leaving the fact I tried to track Ethan out. No need to freak her out tonight any further. “Where did you go Ana?” I ask in a soft, but with a forbidding undercurrent. My mind was running wild knowing she was with Kavanagh who had eyes for my girlfriend.

“Ethan and I went to a bar across the street. That way I could watch what was happening,” she says simply. The realization dawns on me that she had seen me carrying Leila affectionately in my arms. She’s seen me getting into the car with Flynn.

“I see,” I say.

I can see her demeanor change, and though she is trying to be nonchalant, she is anything but. “So, what did you do with Leila in my apartment?” she asks. I know you Anastasia, you’re as jealous as I am. I don’t want her to fly off the handle.

“Do you really want to know?” I ask. She slowly leaves her fork on her plate, closes her eyes briefly in pain, and when she looks up there is sadness in them, “yes,” she barely whispers. I’m not sure if I should talk about it. I know I’m gonna regret it. Argh! I give an internal groan, my mouth a flat line. I’m hesitant. I might kick myself for this later. “We talked, and I gave her bath, and I dressed her in your clothes,” I say in a hoarse whisper. She is too silent. This couldn’t be good. Too shocked, too expressionless. “I hope you don’t mind Ana, because she was quite filthy.” Oh God! Her eyes are swimming in tears, and she’s barely holding onto her dignity. Her jaw shut tightly, and she looks like she will sob if she even twitches. Fuck! Fuck!

“That was all I could do for her Ana,” I plead with her to make her understand.

“Do you still have feelings for Leila?” she asks barely holding onto her sanity.

“No! no!” I didn’t do that for her because I have feelings for Leila. I did it because I felt responsible for her current state. I wanted to right something I might have done wrong. Fix my mistakes however little. Anastasia turns away from me as if she can’t bear to see me, as if I make her nauseous, disgusted.

“Ana, seeing Leila so utterly broken, disheveled, half mad, and so different than her former self was...” I don’t know how to finish this sentence. “I only care about her from one human being to another. Not the way you think of,” I say shrugging, remembering how she’s the fraction of the woman she used to be. Anastasia isn’t even looking at me, too upset, too overwhelmed, and too distant. I can’t take it...

“Ana, please look at me,” I beg. But she won’t. Her body rigid, taut like a bow pulled hard ready to shoot. All of a sudden she shudders violently. Oh, no! I damage everyone I touch!

“Ana...” is all I can utter.

“What?” she says sharply, unwilling to talk to me, unable to look at me.

“Don’t Ana. It doesn’t mean anything. It was only like taking care of a broken shattered child,” I try to explain. Maybe part of me was trying to fix the child in me that was neglected. What I wished people do for me when I was in that state as a toddler.

She says nothing. Collecting her plate, she walks to the trash, and scrapes off the contents.

“Ana?” I ask hoping she would respond. She just deposits her plate into the sink. She’s checking out again.

“Ana, please,” I plead with her just to look at me.

She spins around like a top and faces me agony is written all over her face. She’s physically and emotionally exhausted. “Just stop it Christian!” she shouts tired of hearing me. “Just stop with the fucking ‘Ana please’!” she scolds as her tears rain down from her cheeks. She’s gasping for air as if I’ve punched her. Her chest is rapidly rising up and down. Her face is shattered, lips quivering, and her eyes clouded with the onslaught of her tears. “I’m beyond my limit of all the shit you’ve dished out at me today. I’m going to bed. I’m physically and emotionally tired. Just let me be,” she says and turns around and sprints to the bedroom. I’m completely shocked at her reaction. I’ve done what I had to, and I know my fucking past is loaded with shit, and it is colliding with everything, well, with the only person that really matters to me, and I’m hurting her. I don’t want to hurt her, and yet here I am fucking everything up again. I was jealous when she took off with Kavanagh. And she only went for a drink after I kicked her out of her apartment. Could I have handled it if she washed Kavanagh naked? I would go mad, insane!

She looked like she aged ten years in the last half hour. The last thing I hear is her heaving sobs on the way to my bedroom. I have to make up to her. I have to have her forgive me. (←It’s hard to Say I’m Sorry sung by Boyz 2 Men)  At least ease her pain. I can’t go try to fix Leila, and let the only woman I really loved be broken like this. I’m the worst kind of boyfriend! What kind of man loves his woman and puts her through misery like this?

I briskly walk after her. I stop after I enter my bedroom. The mournful sounds that are echoing in the bathroom are agonizing, alien, not like she’s crying, but like her soul is being shredded, instantly ripping my heart apart. I quickly walk into the bathroom, and find Anastasia collapsed on the floor, her entire body is shaking and heaving, in an all-consuming misery. I fall onto the floor quickly and pull her into my arms, “hey, Ana,” I say in a choking voice. I want to cry with her here, but I have to be strong for her. “Please don’t cry baby, please, Ana,” I beg her. I hold her on my lap like a child. She finally wraps her arms around my neck and her sobs are buried into my neck, her tears flowing down to my chest, cooling as they run down soaking me, and covering me in her misery. I coo her like a baby, trying to soothe her sorrows stroking her hair, and her back.

“I’m so sorry baby...” I whisper repeatedly. “I’m so sorry.” I hold her tighter, try to take away the pain I’ve inflicted on her, though how could you heal someone’s soul when you yourself are the one who shredded in the first place? She cries harder, pouring out her misery, washing her soul away with her tears. (←Shadow Days by John Mayer)

Her misery is my misery. Even what I did for Leila was out of guilt, holding onto the sliver of humanity I have, trying to right what I might have done wrong in the past, it was cruel to Anastasia, and no matter what I do, it hurts her. We sit on the floor holding each other blanketed with our individual and collective miseries. I hold and rock her until after the last drop of tear she cried out, and finally stagger to my feet with Anastasia in my arms still holding her tight. I walk into my bedroom, and carry and deposit her into our bed. I immediately shed my clothes, and lie beside her turning the lights off. I pull Anastasia into my arm tightly, never to let her go, and if she has to be miserable, and crying, I want to be the one holding and comforting her. We can be miserable together. With lights off, worry weighing heavy in my consciousness, we drift off to a troubled sleep, and my tormenting nightmares welcome me. (←Died In Your Arms Tonight by Cutting Crew)

This chapter is dedicated to Suz in Australia. I hope you heal fast! Next update, is on Thursday.