Hey, guys!

That cliffhanger lasted longer than expected. My apologies. Real life sometimes gets in the way even if Manal did give me the OK for the chapter a long time ago. Sorry for the wait.

Anyway, here it is!

Let me know what you think of it!

Ch 10.

Grey's voice sounds like he's underwater. I try to focus on his words but I can't make sense of any of them. It takes what seems to be a few moments before I'm able to understand him.

"Breathe, Anastasia. Deep breaths." He whispers into my ear but I can't follow his instructions. I'm too far gone inside my head. His distorted words reach me but his deep baritone voice does nothing against the demons that have escaped their prison. The lack of air is starting to make me feel dizzy while stars and black spots begin to appear in my line of vision. I'm shaking, a cold sweat covering each inch of my body in a matter of moments.

"Open your eyes, Anastasia." Grey commands but I can't obey his request. "Anastasia, look at me!" He shouts but I'm too far gone. I can't reply or do as he asks, no matter how much I'd like to do as I'm being told.

"Of all the fucking things I could have done, I trigger a fucking panic attack!" Grey screams and I cover my ears to block away the screaming.

No more screaming, please! I'll do anything, just stop it!

"Shit! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scream. It's okay. Just try to breathe. You're okay. You're safe. You're safe."

He keeps on reassuring me that there's no one here except for me and him and slowly, my lungs start filling with oxygen. The spots in my vision start to disappear and I stop shaking from the adrenaline rush.

"That's it, Anastasia. Keep breathing. Deep breaths. That's it. Deep breaths." Grey continues to coach me and breathes in the same rhythm as I do. I slowly regain control over my body but the battle with myself has left me exhausted.

Christian Grey triggered another panic attack and got me out of it on his own. In any other situation, it would have been funny but right now, it isn't. It's bloody frightening!

"Can I hold you?" He asks suddenly and I take a few moments to consider his question. His touch always sent this shock through my body, as if my heart was being restarted. At this point, I would take anything that would make me feel better, that would make me feel something. I nod and the next thing I know, I'm cocooned into his arms, my arms sandwiched between our bodies as I try and grip his flesh, wanting to be sure that he is not a figment of my imagination.

"Felling any better?" He whispers into my hair.

I nod once again, afraid to open my mouth. Not that I could say anything anyway. My throat usually constricts during a panic attack and I can't even breathe, let alone use my vocal cords.

Grey wraps his arms behind my knees and takes a seat on the chaise lounge with me in his lap. He combs his fingers through my long tresses while he hums a soft tune and the action is deeply soothing. I find myself fighting to stay awake but my eyelids are so heavy.

Maybe I could just rest my eyes for a bit…

I wake up to the weight of someone pinning me to the mattress. Looking around, I realize I'm in my room and I'm not alone – a mop of bronze hair is resting on my stomach. I'm hot and I can't move because Christian Grey is wrapped around me like a vice, keeping me locked into his arms. My memory is groggy and I don't remember getting into my room. I mindlessly run my fingers through Grey's hair, lightly scratching his scalp with my nails, as I think back to my episode at the pool.

The kiss was... I don't think I could find a word in my vocabulary that could do it justice. But it all came to a halt with that episode.

It's been a while since I've had such an intense panic attack. The memories and feelings felt so real… I've relived those two months for so long and so many times that I've come to accept them as a part of me and, as a result, their intensity isn't so high. But today… today, it all went down the drain, right before my eyes and there was no way I could get my grasp back on reality.

Maybe I should talk to Will about medication…

The thought makes my muscles freeze in place.

Grey moans and shifts his head.

"Don't stop."

His husky voice startles me. I look down at him and find myself staring into his mesmerizing gray orbs. I resume my earlier ministrations and his eyes close in pure delight.

"What are you thinking about?" He purrs, eyes wide closed. He's enjoying this.

"My treatment." I reply and look to my right, out the glass wall and into the back garden, before peering back at him.

"What about your treatment?" I don't miss the slight change in his tone. He's curious.

I have his complete attention now, my touch long forgotten. His stare is so intense I swear he could see into the depths of my soul if he wishes to.

I chew on my bottom lip as I try to sort through my thoughts and get them to form a coherent sentence. I went from hating his guts and his cockiness to kissing him in less than ten minutes. This isn't good, Anastasia. My subconscious notes and I mentally agree with myself.

"Stop that." He says and gently removes my lip from between my teeth. My lip tingles from his touch. We lock eyes and my breath catches in my throat. There's so much emotion in his eyes, I'm scared to look away or do anything that could break this connection.

"Tell me, Anastasia. What about your treatment?" Grey whispers.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open them back, I find him staring at my lips.

"I haven't been following my treatment." I whisper as I lock eyes with him. "I didn't like the way the pills made me feel." I say with a shrug and avoid his stare and the judgment I might find there. "They made me sleepy, groggy… I lost my appetite and I had trouble focusing on even the simplest of tasks. I couldn't function. So I stopped taking them. I stopped following my treatment. I wanted to fight my own battles, without any chemical help. I wanted to prove to myself that I could get myself out of the abyss. And I did. The problem is that some episodes are worse than others. Some triggers are more powerful than others because the memories behind them are stronger. When I was drugged, my memories from those times are hazy at best. Therefore, the episodes are mild. But there are some memories… from when I was sober or in withdrawal… the pain… his hands… wrapped around my neck… the thirst… the hunger…" I choke out and gasp for air.

I shut my eyes and try to push the memories away and the demons back into their cage.

He interlocks his fingers with mine and kisses each knuckle, raising goose bumps up my arms. The distraction works and I'm able to focus on the present once again when I open my eyes.

"I won't let anyone touch you, Anastasia. No one will ever hurt you again. I promise."

And I believe him. Maybe it's the intensity in his eyes. Maybe it's the tone of his voice. Maybe it's the way his body is wrapped around mine. Maybe it's the fact that his touch brings me comfort and anchors me into the present. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I believe him with every cell in my body.

We lock eyes once again and there it is. That magnetic pull that has me gravitating towards him in spite of everything.

Grey's eyes keep going back and forth between my eyes and lips. He leans in closer, giving me time to anticipate his movements and the option to stop this. But I don't want this to stop. Every cell in my body is on fire and it's something I have never felt before. It makes me feel… alive. His breath washes over my face and my eyes close on their own accord, anticipating the touch of his soft lips.

This kiss is so different from the first one. It's so tender, so careful and so… cautious. Grey settles himself over my body, resting his weight on his elbows on either side of my face and I run my fingers through his silky tresses, gently tugging him closer. I want to crawl inside him and live forever in this tender moment. I never want it to end. His taste and the feel of him are out of this world!

He's a drug and you're a recovering addict. Tread carefully, Anastasia…

A brief knock on the door has us parting and breathing heavily as we look into each other's eyes.

"Yes?" I croak and clear my throat.

"Mademoiselle, votre mère est ici." Natalie says from the other side of the door.

I pale.

Bloody hell!

Seeing my mother in the living room is a surreal experience. I can't remember the last time she visited me somewhere or even bothered to talk to me. She would have been the only person I would have allowed to see me in rehab even though, in the back of my mind, I knew she would never come, just like she never did whenever I needed her.

Needless to say, she lived up to my expectations. And beyond.

Carla's dressed to the nines: hair, make-up, clothes, shoes, bag and accessories – all scream money. Not her hard earned money, but Stephen's or maybe someone else's but still… money. Tons of it. Oh, the perks of being a gold digger… I think sourly as I look her up and down.

"Mother."

My voice is as flat as my mood. Even more so, if that's possible. My walls are up, ready to defend me from whatever my mother wants to throw at me this time.

Carla twirls around and takes me in. I'm still in my bathing suit and robe, wrists exposed. She's never seen them like this. As a matter of fact, she's never seen them anything else than perfect. Her eyes widen a fraction but apart from that, her face remains impassive until a fake smile settles on her face. There's no line or wrinkle in sight. I'm impressed. Her plastic surgeon must be making thousands of pounds on a monthly basis.

"Anastasia." She breathes and approaches me, arms in the air as she prepares to hug me.

I take a step back and she stops.

"You remember my name! How nice of you, mother!" I spit sarcastically and her face drops. Her eyes shift to Grey and she takes him in, inch by delicious inch. Her pupils dilate and a full smile splits her face in two. My eyes narrow. Seriously?!

"Anastasia, introduce us." Carla demands but I merely raise an eyebrow and keep my mouth shut. I cross my hands over my chest and make no move to comply to her request.

"Why are you here?" I ask her, my voice low and menacing. Grey's stance stiffens on my right but I pay him no mind. My mother's presence in this house is a problem that needs solving right now.

"Now, Anastasia… this is not how you treat your mother." She admonishes me with a smile and turns her attention back to Grey. "I came to see you, my only daughter. Don't be rude and introduce us." She says while eyeing Christian Grey with gusto.

I mentally snort at her perfect speech and perfect manners.

"And if I don't?" I reply and pin her with my gaze, daring her to say anything against me in my house. Her attention shifts back to me once again and her eyes narrow. There's the Carla I remember.

"Eleven years in France and your manners are still horrible." She scoffs. "Carla May Wilks." She says to Grey and offers him her right hand.

Oh, so it's Wilks now. My subconscious notes with a bitter voice. It's never nice to know your mother remarried and you weren't even invited to the party. Not that I would have attended but it's the thought that counts, right?

Grey breaks out of his trance and stares at her hand as if it'll bite him. If I were him, I'd also be afraid.

"Christian Grey." He says with a calm voice and reaches out to shake Carla's hand a few moments later.

She pales instantly. I watch as the turns white as a sheet of paper in a matter of moments. Her eyes narrow and her mouth twists into an ugly scowl but I don't have time to comment on her own rudeness because Natalie steps into the living room, a look of worry etched upon her face. I leave Grey to fend for himself and go to Natalie. Surely he can face my mother for a few minutes by himself.

"Natalie?" I whisper as soon as I'm in her hearing range. Her wide eyes meet mine.

"I am so sorry. Luke just arrived and he is very upset that I've allowed your mother to come in. I didn't know… she is your mother… are you mad at me, Mademoiselle?"

She's scared. Oh, Luke…

"Natalie." I say and put both my arms on her shoulders and give a gentle squeeze. "It's okay. Luke is just… overprotective." I say with a smile and the tension leaves her body instantly. "Now, please excuse me while I deal with her."

"Of course." She nods and disappears back where she came from.

Lungs full of oxygen and poker face on, I turn around to face my mother. When I reach the middle of the living room, I notice that Grey is white as a ghost while Carla is red as a tomato. What's going on?

"Carla. Outside." I tell her and turn my attention to Christian who still looks as if he has seen a ghost. I wonder what this is about.

"I have to see why she's here. Please excuse us for a few minutes." I whisper and offer him a small smile meant to reassure him. The color returns to his cheeks and he smiles slightly.

"Sure."

In a moment of boldness, I lightly press my lips to his for a second. The contact is instantly soothing and my body relaxes. A deep breath leaves my body as I turn away from Christian and come face to face with my mother who looks like she has just swallowed a lemon.

"Out. Now." My tone is beyond arctic and she follows me without further fuss. Good.

She is in my house. I rule here and my word is law. I can kick her out anytime. I should have kicked her out already…

I keep repeating the words until they become a reality inside my head. It's been more than a year since I last saw my mother and if I had my way, I would stay as far away from her as possible. But it seems like Carla has other ideas.

"Why are you really here, mother?" I say through clenched teeth as soon as we pass the magnolias down the path.

"You are to stay away from Christian Grey, Anastasia." She says and I'm immediately on guard. My back straightens instantly and my muscles freeze in place.

"What if I don't want to?" I challenge her.

"Anastasia, this is not up for discussion! Stay away from him!" She screams and my control snaps.

For many years, I've avoided having any real conversation with my mother. I always told myself that it was not the time, that things could turn out for the better next time and that there was no need to talk about painful things just so she could realize that I needed her. For many years, I've been silent, doing what she asked of me – when possible – and avoiding conflict if it was within my power to avoid it. But as I look into my mother's eyes, I know that the girl who did all that is long gone. Things would never be the same between my mother and I after this conversation and I mentally prepare myself for a showdown.

"Fuck you! Your maternal instincts are twenty years too late, mum! Guess what? You've missed your chance! You don't get to tell me who I should come in contact with and who I should stay away from!" I scream back at her at the top of my lungs as the last thread snaps. I am unleashed.

I am ready to draw blood.

It's the first time I've ever spoken to my mother this way and she's beyond shocked. She looks like a fish out of water as she tries to come up with a good comeback to my attack. But she can't find anything that could justify her behavior for over twenty years because there is nothing to find. I've given her all the chances one could ever get to make things right and she threw them away without a second thought. She's here to play the part of the perfect mother until she gets what she wants. After that, I shall be nothing more than an inconvenience. The thought makes me even angrier.

"Don't you dare judge me! You have no idea what kind of life I've lived while I did everything for you. I am your mother, whether you like it or not. I raised you, nurtured you… you selfish girl!" She yells back at me and I sit and stare at her, stunned beyond words.

She either lives in a parallel Universe where she receives the title of 'Mother of the Year' each year or has taken acting classes in the meantime and I'm not aware of that.

"You do not nurture. You simply possess. You want to own, to have and to consume until there's nothing left for you to get anymore. And then you move on to the next person that can give you the world and you repeat the cycle. You are nothing but a parasite! I don't know how I could ever entertain the idea that you could become my mother and be everything I needed you to be!" I hiss and take a step in her direction, making her take a step back. Her eyes are wide, filled with shock and another feeling that's foreign to her. Must be humanity. I take another step and look into her eyes.

"I needed you when you tore me away from Ray and moved me to a whole different country on a different continent. I needed you when I was having trouble making friends because I had been used to the fact that I would never have normality in my life as long as you refused to set roots somewhere. I needed you when I started school and everything was so different from what I had imagined. I needed you when I entertained the idea of having sex with someone and I didn't have who to ask all my questions and share all my emotions. I needed you when my step-brother kidnapped me and took me away from society for almost two months and drugged me out of my mind. I needed you to tell me that everything would be okay!

"Where were you when I needed you, mother?!"

I am screaming at the top of my lungs by the time I finish venting and letting everything come up to the surface and just... explode. It feels too bloody good!

Carla is shocked and has yet to open her mouth and defend herself. Not that I expect a viable explanation but it would be nice to see that she cared enough to try and justify her actions. But she keeps quiet and looks at me as if it's the first time she's ever seen me. Granted, I've never raised my voice at her until now. I have never told her about my feelings and how her neglect affected me and my emotional health. It all changed today. I'm exorcising demons right and left. And she has the front row. I hope she enjoys this. Because I am.

"You broke me." I say and continue my verbal tirade. "You made me the way I am today, unable to form a connection with someone because I've never seen you do it with anyone other than that bitch, Elena Lincoln. Was it easy with her because you are both soul sucking creatures that replace whatever light they find in a person with their own personal brand of hell? Is that it? Should I transform myself into your exact replica so you can look at me and not through me? Is that the secret to finally realizing that you have a daughter that should get your undivided attention?" I scream once again and, once again, Carla is unable to open her mouth and say anything in her defense.

"Because I've tried!" I scream and throw my hands in the air, then start pointing fingers at her. "I've tried so hard to get you to pay attention to me, to love me and want to be a part of my life, the life that you brought on this Earth. And I'm so tired, mother!" I spit the word mother as if it leaves a vile taste in my mouth as I utter it. "I am so tired and so... sick! It makes me sick to look at you and this… demon that's looking back at me is nothing like the woman who bore me. I refuse to believe that! I refuse to believe that I share the same blood with the woman standing in front of me! You are nothing to me! You are nothing but a bad dream that I can't seem to wake up from!

"You're the only person on this Earth who shares my blood and who is still alive and I wish you were dead. You know all my darkest corners where my demons are hiding and you always play them against me. I looked up to you to help me beat them but the only thing you've ever done is drag me further into the dark and feed me to them. Is that your definition of motherhood? Because if it is, let me tell you that you've got it completely wrong!"

By the end of my speech, I'm left breathless and my chest is heaving. I am out of breath. I am out of words to explain my pain. I am out of examples. I am out of my mind. I look at her and I can't find an ounce of regret in her features. There's nothing there. It never was. Just a blank stare.

"Say something! Defend yourself! Justify yourself! You can't, can you?" I whisper the last question as I continue to look at my mother and her still form. My throat is raw from all the screaming and a pounding head ache is seconds away from busting my skull open.

I'm shaking and goose bumps cover me from head to toe. It's like an electric current is sweeping through my whole body. I know that Christian Grey is close because his mere presence always brings this reaction from my body but I'm past the point of caring that he heard part of my conversation with my mother.

"I…"

She raises her hand and covers her mouth as a sob escapes her at the same time my tears start flowing. But my tears are not sad tears. No. They are angry tears mixed with happy ones. I'm angry that it took so long to get all this off my chest and happy that it finally happened. I'm finally able to move forward from this point where my relationship with my mother has kept me for my entire adult life. This is another breakthrough, another item that I can cross off my list and move on to the next one.

"Ana!"

Luke's voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I turn around to look at him. He's marching towards us with a mix of determination and anger. It takes him less than a minute to reach us and he takes a defensive position in front of me, shielding me from Carla.

"Mrs. Wilks, your presence here makes your written agreement with Sir Stephen Clayton null and void." Luke says with a professional demeanor even though I know he wants nothing more than to grab and drag her out of this house.

Under Luke's veiled threat, Carla comes alive once again. Her entire posture changes. From a defeated pretender to a mighty warrior ready to take on whoever stands in her way. There's a fire blazing in her eyes, something I've never seen before. And, trust me, I've seen every mask Carla May Wilks ever wore. And they weren't few. Nor pretty.

"I don't care about what Sir Stephen Clayton offers me. I wanted to see my daughter and there's no one who can deny me that right. Not even your boss!" She hisses at him and I'm impressed once again by my mother. She's a tigress with sharp claws when she wants to be and apparently now is one of those times.

"Mrs. Wilks, you and I both know you're not here just to see your daughter."

I look at Luke and find a smirk on his lips.

But Carla hasn't said her piece yet.

"You don't know shit, Luke Sawyer!" Carla bellows. "You couldn't keep her safe the first time and you're doing a piss poor job the second time around!"

Her words hit Luke hard and he averts his eyes. I don't know about him but I've definitely had my fill of Carla's poison.

"Get out." I hiss and her mouth shuts instantly.

"Anastasia…"

"I said, get out!" I scream in her face and Grey steps in and wraps his arms around me to keep me from pouncing on her. His touch barely takes the edge off of my anger.

"Get your filthy hands off of her, Grey." Carla says, her voice low and menacing.

"Shut the fuck up!" I scream at her and start crying out of sheer anger. "You don't know shit about protection! How dare you judge Luke when you've been doing a piss poor job at being a mother all my life?! Who are you to talk about filth when you've been fucking men for money and fortune and more money and more fortune? Get out! I don't want to see you here anymore! Get out!" I scream and trash into Grey's arms so I can get away from his restrain but he's too strong and I'm too emotional to think straight.

Carla bows her head and Luke shadows her as she makes her way out of my life for the billionth time.

'Till next time, mother. I think sourly as I watch her retreating form, stopping from time to time to look back at me.

"It's OK, it's OK…" Grey keeps on whispering in my hair as I hold on tight, afraid to let go and miss his soothing touch. I am a mess.

You've been a mess for the past two weeks and you have him to thank for that. My subconscious snaps, hissing at Grey. In another time and place, I would have agreed. Now, however, after that breakdown and the kiss and a show off with my mother, I'm willing to do whatever it is to just be in his arms for a little while longer.

I fold into myself even further, trying to get away from both my emotions and memories and everything else. It's not working. If only I could stop crying, I could then focus my energy on getting myself together. But the tears won't stop. I have too many to cry for too many people, myself included.

It takes some full ten minutes to get myself under control and it's no easy task. Then again, dealing with my emotions was never a simple task and now is no different.

"Anastasia, what was that?" Grey softly asks.

"That was me speaking up after twenty two years." I mumble into his chest. "It was eating away at me, sucking the life out of me. And if it's something I have learned during therapy is that you can't fight darkness with darkness. You fight it with light." I say as I think back to all the times I got better and felt better about myself only to have my mother's critique put me down all over again.

I've had enough of darkness. I've had enough of her darkness.

"I'm sorry." He whispers and holds me tight. His hug keeps me together, like a broken glass held together by glue. It's only a matter of time before I'll break all over again.

"So you keep saying. What are you sorry for?" I ask and look up at him. He seems lost through memories. I know that look because I see it each time I catch a glimpse of myself. It takes a minute before his gray orbs focus on me. A strange light fills his eyes.

"For everything. I mean it. You were right. I have opened a can of worms that should have been left alone." He murmurs and I drop my gaze again. I nod into his chest. He should have left me alone but he didn't. It's too late for that now.

"My shrink always says that if you keep looking back, you'll never see what's waiting in front of you. So… my advice to you is to stop looking in the past. Stop looking into my past because there's nothing I want to remember from that particular time."

"Does she know the identity of your captors?"

And we're back to that again!

My look must have clued him because he quickly raises his hands in defense and apologizes.

"Okay, okay! I'll stop asking about that. But you have to understand, Anastasia… it's fucking hard to just let it go. Those people hurt you. Probably tortured you. And I can't just stand by and…"

"And what? Allow it? Thankfully, that's not an option because it has already happened. There's nothing anyone can do about it." I cut in and sigh. "Look, I appreciate it but I'm asking you to put it out of your mind."

"I just don't get it! Your step-father is a powerful man and he could use that power to track anyone down to the ends of the fucking Earth! Yet, when the Scotland Yard announces, not even a month after you were found that they are closing the case because of the lack of conclusive evidence, he doesn't say anything. You were one step away from being killed by an overdose and he just stands there? Un-fucking-believable!"

I can understand where he comes from. I can understand why he would doubt this tactic. People don't just let things like this go. They don't back off and leave the abusers to go on with their lives as if they had done nothing wrong. But this situation was not in the norm. My step-brother had paid the ultimate price: his life.

Grey doesn't know this. He doesn't know that my brother's death and my kidnapping are closely related and I don't want him to know. I don't even want him to suspect it. Does that make me a controlling bitch? Probably. But it sure beats the alternative.

"Why are you so emotionally invested in this? I'm not the first victim of a kidnapping whose captors have not been found. Where is all this coming from?"

My questions make Christian shut down. I catch a glimpse of it in his eyes before he has a chance to look away.

"It's just… not fair." He replies a few minutes later, his voice and thoughts miles away. I wonder that he's thinking about. I wonder what his demos are.

"It's not the first unfair thing that has happened in this world. It's not even the first unfair thing that has happened to me. But if I continue to focus on that, if I continue to focus on the fact that life in unfair, I wouldn't be doing myself any favors."

He nods but keeps silent for a bit, looking at the green trees that are in my back yard. The atmosphere is peaceful, like the moments that follow a powerful storm. Or maybe it's the way I feel about my conversation with my mother. A storm that has passed, leaving me relieved of a heavy burden.

"Do you think you could get over it?" Christian suddenly asks.

I take a moment to ponder his question. It's only been a little over a year since that faithful day when Luke found me. It feels like decades have passed since that day. It feels like I've been fighting with my newer demons for more than a year. This mental and emotional exhaustion sometimes makes me feel as if I'm a hundred years old, not twenty-two.

"No. It will forever be a part of me. It shaped me into who I am today. Am I better or worse? I don't know. But I can only accept it as it is and take it one day at a time."

My reply is different from what he was expecting. The look in Christian's eyes as I spoke turned from anxious to defeated as each word left my mouth. It only solidifies my belief that Christian Grey has his own personal brand of demons just right around the corner. I can almost picture him sitting at his desk, in that white leather chair, as the demons arise and engulf him into darkness.

My skin breaks out in goose bumps.

"So what's your story, Christian Grey? What demons hide in your head?" I ask, curious and cautious at the same time. The last time I asked him about his darkness, he ended up leaving from my flat in Portland without a glance behind or a goodbye.

"It's a long story." He says with a heavy sigh and hangs his head.

At least it's a start. My subconscious offers, a pensive look on her face.

"They usually are." I say, offering him a sad smile as I squeeze his hand a bit. "It's okay. Talk to your shrink about it. I'm here if you ever want to talk about it."

"Thanks. It's good to know I haven't blown up my chance at having your presence in my life."

"Christian, I'm going to be honest with you. You have a long way to go before you will have earned my trust. Even now, as we speak all nice and relaxed, a wall separates us. A kiss can't – won't – tear it down just like that. Trust is something that people need to work on hard if they want it from me. I am attracted to you but that doesn't mean that I'm going to jump head first into this… thing with you." I say, gesturing at the space between us.

"So we're back to square one?" He asks, looking lost and sad.

I sigh. This is tougher than I thought.

"Would you have it any other way if you were in my position? Be honest." I say, staring directly into his eyes, challenging him to lie.

"Probably not." He admits with a huff. "So now what?"

"I don't know. Time will tell." I reply just as I spot Luke coming back, full speed ahead, probably to escort Grey out of the premises.

This day has turned out to be more exhausting than I thought.

This chapter turned out much more complicated than I initially wanted so yeah...

And the next one is even more fucked up!Oh, Ana... you never seem to catch a break, do you?

See you Friday, peeps!

~V