Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,34

hurt. I sleep beside Mommy. The peas are gone. In the freezer is something. It smells funny. I lick it and my tongue is stuck to it. I eat it slowly. It tastes nasty. I drink some water. I play with my cars, and I sleep beside Mommy. Mommy is so cold, and she won’t wake up. The door crashes open. I cover Mommy with my blankie. He’s here. Fuck. What the fuck happened here? Oh, the crazy fucked-up bitch. Shit. Get out of my way, you little shit. He kicks me, and I hit my head on the floor. My head hurts. He calls somebody and he goes. He locks the door. I lay down beside Mommy. My head hurts. The lady policeman is here. No. No. No. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. I stay by Mommy. No. Stay away from me. The lady policeman has my blankie, and she grabs me. I scream. Mommy! Mommy! I want my mommy. The words are gone. I can’t say the words. Mommy can’t hear me. I have no words.

“Christian! Christian!” Her voice is urgent, pulling me from the depths of my nightmare, and my despair. “I’m here. I’m here,” she cries.

I wake and Ana’s leaning over me, grasping my shoulders, shaking me, her face taut with anguish, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“Ana.” My voice is a hoarse whisper, the taste of fear tarnishing my mouth. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.”

“I had a dream.”

“I know. I’m here, I’m here.”

“Ana.” Her name is an incantation on my lips, a talisman against the dark, choking panic coursing through my body.

“Hush, I’m here.” She curls around me, her limbs cocooning mine, her warmth seeping into my soul, forcing back the shadows, forcing back the fear. She is sunshine, she is light. She is mine.

“Please, let’s not fight.” I wrap my arms around her.

“Okay.”

“The vows. No obeying. I can do that. We’ll find a way.” The words rush out of my mouth in a tumble of emotion and confusion and anxiety.

“Yes. We will. We’ll always find a way,” Ana whispers, and her lips are on mine, silencing me, bringing me back to the now.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Dr. Flynn rubs his chin and I don’t know if he’s playing for time or genuinely intrigued. “She threatened to leave?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“So, you capitulated.”

“I didn’t have much choice.”

“Christian, you always have a choice. Do you think Anastasia was being unreasonable?”

I meet his gaze and want to shout yes, but deep down I know Ana isn’t an unreasonable person.

That’s you, Grey.

Unreasonable could be your middle name. Ana’s words haunt me. She said that, long ago.

Christ, my negativity is a real prick sometimes.

“How are you feeling now?” Flynn asks.

“Wary,” I whisper, and my admission is a jab to the solar plexus, almost winding me.

She could leave me.

“Ah. Your feelings of insecurity and abandonment are coming to the fore again.”

I remain mute, distracted by the sliver of afternoon light that brightens the cluster of mini orchids on his coffee table. What can I say? I don’t want to admit this out loud. It makes my fears real. I loathe feeling this weak. This exposed. Ana has the power to wound me and deliver a fatal blow.

“Is it giving you second thoughts about the wedding?” John asks.

No. Maybe.

I’m afraid she’ll hurt me.

Like she did before…when she left.

“No,” I answer, because I don’t want to lose her.

He nods, as if this is what he wants to hear. “You’ve relinquished a great deal for her.”

“I have.” I stifle my indulgent smile. “She’s a good negotiator.”

Flynn rubs his chin again. “Do you resent that?”

“Yes. Partly. I’ve given so much and she won’t give me this.”

“You sound like you’re mad at her.”

“I am.”

“Have you thought about telling her that?”

“How mad I am? No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m worried I’ll say something I’ll regret and she’ll leave. She left once before.”

“But you hurt her then.”

“I did.” The memory of her tearful face and her bitter rebuke are never far from my mind. You are one fucked-up son of a bitch.

I shudder, but I hide it from Flynn. Whenever I think of that time, my shame almost swallows me whole. “I don’t want to hurt her again. Ever.”

“That’s a good goal to work toward,” Flynn says. “But you need to find a healthy way to express and channel your anger. You’ve directed it inwardly for so long. Too long.” He pauses. “But you know my views on that. I am not going to rehash that now, Christian. You’re incredibly