A/N I try again. I hope you all can forgive me that I left my first story on hold. There is a chance that I'll continue with that one too. However, after I first started it I had a mountain of letters telling: "If you continue like… I'll stop reading it". It was a bit frightening. Then there were few national novel contests I planned to enter, so it silently slipped through my fingers…. I hope you can enjoy this story!

Ana's POV

Hi! Good! I say Hi to myself, because it is only a journal, only written to myself. Right now I see myself as the only reader of it. Maybe one day in future I will let Christian read it, but I try not to think about it. Rationally, whenever I think about anyone reading or hearing my stories, I try to sugarcoat things. I don't think it's only me, I believe people in general try to adjust everything to not hurt those they love. They do it, even if it means keeping one's pain to oneself. It is especially truthful because your body and mind are the only things you can somehow control.

I don't know where to start.

Obviously writing down my name is unnecessary, because the journal is written by me, for me and about me. Gosh! It looks like I'm writing a public speech, but it really is only diary where I can write down the bad things that have happened to me. Well, to be honest, the best things came out of it as well but I really would have been happier with less scars and nightmares. I have plenty of those and more. I know this is my diary but the events I'm going to express were way too hard for me to handle. It's still hard to think about them, even long after they happened. So I probably just try to ignore the most painful subjects. Eventually I have to face the truth, but not all together and not too quickly.

This isn't my first diary that speaks about disaster. I started the first one during my freshman year in college. My Basic Psychology professor recommended that if we don't seek professional help on bad days, it would be beneficial to write down issues for review and healing. So I started and wrote through the college. I pretty much wrote about everything that went wrong with my mother's husband number three. There were disastrous days while I was 13. Believe me, I couldn't do anything right. At end of one devastating event, I ran away from home and hitchhiked to my dad's house. I curled up – hungry, wet and cold. But that is an old story and will come up later in this diary. I try not to wallow in my childhood memories for too long.

I want to start this journal with my third year in college. It was already a spring and Kate, my precious roommate, tried to convince me in going to the pub. I was not a people person; I'm still not. For some reason I didn't trust people in general back then. Thanks to husband number three; I also had a twisted self-image. Yes I know that this is quite common; when one is constantly told about their average looks and low value. It really didn't matter what anyone else said later. The low self-image seed was there and it never really went away. I was able to think good things about myself, don't get me wrong. However, when things went difficult I had that seed to compound things.

"Kate, I really don't know. It's our last term and as you know, I have deadlines for two essays next week. I really should try to finish the book today so I could use library computer tomorrow."

"Come on Steele! This is our last spring in Portland. If we won't get the best out of it now, then when?"

"I really don't know." But I was already giving in and Kate knew it.

"We should ask José and the gang to go with us. Than you can rely on friends while we party. And you can use my computer for your essays, you know that."

So we went and had a drink or three. When I really needed some fresh air, I went outside. I leaned over the railing and few moments later José was there. I lost my balance when I turned to him. Like in a twisted fairytale, he held me for a moment. But then he leaned to steal a kiss.

"No, José!" I tried to stop him. I pushed him away but there seemed to be no effect at all. I was drunk and he was twice as big as I was.

"You know I love you, Anastasia Rose Steele." He stated it loud enough for the world to hear.

That sentence caused the bad events to begin that evening. I tried to push him away because a long-buried horror sought to surface. Next thing I knew, there was a fight and I was dragged into strange car.

"Don't try to fight!" An unfamiliar voice barked orders.

I put my hands down. The stranger, one creepy man, twice my size or bigger, gave me a look that told me things were really bad. When I realized how bad…I just couldn't give up fighting. Somebody had to hear me. Anybody!

He slapped me. And slapped me again. I heard a second man enter the car and we started to move. Another blow hit my face before I finally lost consciousness.

When I opened my eyes, I was in some cool room with no windows. Now I know that it was a basement in some old building, but when I regained consciousness I only registered cold. There were no windows and handcuffs around my right arm connected me to some old pipe system. I lay on dirty old blanket and both men from the car were standing in front of me.

"Finally! We really don't have time for sleeping beauties." One of them said sarcastically. "You were sold to us years ago. Stephen got his money, but then he never gave us his part of the deal."

"I was never his to sell." Despite the cold, my new-found rage helped me find the words to argue. Now I know that silence would have saved me from some bruises. Back then I was a seriously naive girl who had read far too many fairytales.

"Your opinion doesn't change the fact that we already paid and we paid quite generously. But then Stephan lost sight of you and tried to trick us, so…"

"You killed him in prison?"

"Not personally, but I arranged it; so you could say so. It was pure luck we heard your full name tonight. I have to tell you: I have a really good memory when it comes to debts. So I ordered my men to act and here we are – one debt, almost repaid."

"I'm not anybody's property!"

"Oh but you are and you will remain property after I manage to sell you. We have to train you a bit and examine you to determine how to make the most money we can. With your cooperation, things should be smooth."

Now I was really freaked out. Memory flashes come to my mind about when husband number three "examined" me. I remember how he touched my breasts and ass and slipped his hand between my legs. I was only 13 then and I really have only one regret from that time: I should have run sooner. "I never was and never will be anybody's to sell or buy."

Of course I got hit but those exact words gave me the strength. However, I didn't know that hit was only the start of my hell.

"There is a bowl with water, if you need any," said the bigger idiot who, I later learned, was called Joe. "We will be back in an hour and then we'll learn exactly how much you are worth. If Stephen did a good job, there's chance you still are a virgin; which mean you are a greater profit for us."