"I made you eggs" Christian says as he carries them over to the bed.
"I'm not that hungry" I say, still feeling sick inside.
"You need to eat Ana" he says back harshly. Here we go again, of all the disagreements we've had this is the topic that has definitely come up the most. "Seeing you suffer like this is bad enough. I don't want to have to worry about you being hungry…"
"Stop!" I interrupt as I push the plate away. "I'm not hungry. I'm not going to be hungry; if you make me eat I'll throw up. Is that what you want? You want me to throw up? Because I kind of feel like throwing up in the first place so it shouldn't be that hard to-"
"Ana" Christian interrupts. "You need your strength."
"Eggs aren't going to make anything better!" I snap as I get out of bed quickly, but as I do I slip and fall onto the cold, hard, floor. I scream in pain as I land on my stomach, where a particularly large bruise has already formed.
"Ana" Christian says frantically as he scoops me into his arms and pulls me up from the floor. "Are you okay? Where does it hurt, baby?"
"I'm fine" I choke out through sobs, struggling to breathe.
"Don't do this" he whispers into my hair. "Don't push me away. You need me, and I need you."
"I'm not pushing you away. I just don't want eggs" I say back shakily.
"Screw the fucking eggs Ana" he says back harshly as he guides my face back towards him. "Talk to me, please…"
"About what?" I ask avoiding eye contact.
"What are you thinking about right now?"
"Nothing, I'm not thinking anything I'm just-"
"Just what?"
"I'm just feeling?"
"Feeling what?"
"I don't know. Scared, sad, broken, dirty…"
"You don't need to-" he says soothingly as he rubs my back.
"Don't need to what?" I ask shakily.
"You don't need to feel any of those things. You don't need to feel scared because I'm never going to let anything like this happen to you again. You don't need to feel sad because you have me- always. Me and the kids, you'll always have us. You don't need to feel broken because you're not. You're strong Mrs. Grey, you're the strongest person I've ever met. You're going to make it through this. And you most certainly don't have to feel dirty. You didn't do anything wrong Ana. This doesn't change anything about you, who you are, or what you are. You are still my perfect, beguilingly innocent Ana. This doesn't change anything."
"Christian, it changes everything!" I say frustrated that he doesn't seem to understand how huge this is. But as I look into his eyes I see the fear. And I realize that he isn't saying all this to reassure me, he's saying it to reassure himself. Suddenly I understand how he was feeling a moment ago. What is he feeling? What is he thinking? "Hey" I say softly. "Now it's your turn."
"What?" he asks softly.
"How are you feeling?"
"This isn't about me."
"Christian, please" I beg.
"I already told you how I feel" he says evenly. "At the hospital."
"You said you were 'really freaking pissed off "' I say recalling the conversation. "Your feelings don't go deeper than that?"
"What do you think?" he says back as he rubs my arm. "Ana, I'm devastated."
"Are you scared?" I ask softly.
"No, I'd like to see that bastard try to hurt you again. I'd kill him."
"Christian, I don't mean like that. Are you scared about the future, what this means for us?"
"Yes" he replies honestly. "I'm trying to tell myself that you just need time, and that you'll heal, but…"
"But what?"
"You won't let me look at you. You won't even let me look at your body. That absolutely scares the shit out of me."
"Hey" I say softly. "That has nothing to do with you-"
"Are you sure about that?" he replies insecurely.
"Christian- of course."
"It makes me feel like you don't trust me."
"That isn't it. Christian, I can't even look at myself right now."
"I hate that, you know?" he interrupts. "I hate that you're that torn up inside. I hate that that son of a bitch did that to you. That he made you feel this way. Like your anything less than the amazing, perfect woman you are."
"I never felt like I was perfect" I say chocking back a sob. "I just wish I didn't feel this awful inside. I wish that for a minute this dark cloud would go away…"
"It will baby" he says softly. "It will."
"I'm not ready" I say shakily. "I'm not ready for you to see me naked. I don't think I will be for a long time. But…"
"But what?" he asks softly as he caresses my face.
"If you want, I'll show you."
"Show me what?"
"Some of the bruises."
"Oh" he gasps looking down. "I mean, do you think that will help you?"
"I don't think it will hurt. I just don't know what you want, if you want to see, or if you think that will upset you…"
"I want to" he interrupts as if he was making the decision as the words flew out of his mouth.
"Okay" I say shakily as I stand up and pull by nightgown up so that my thighs, where the worst of the bruises have formed, are exposed.
"Fuck" he gasps. "Fuck" he repeats his voice growing louder and more enraged. I release the material and let it fall, covering me again, but before the fabric is even done making its journey down my legs Christian has me in his arms. And he's sobbing. Sobbing. I've never see him like this. Shit. What have I done? What's happening to him?
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