Christian
I wake up again with sweat dripping down my body. I had Ana take Gracie away from me so that I wouldn't harm her just in case I threw a fit when I fell asleep. Just as she walked out the door I told Ana to just stay with baby girl until the morning.
She was hesitant at first, but I guess when she saw how serious I was she knew that I wasn't changing my mind. Ana made sure that I was okay before she left then went on her way. I sent the rest of the guys to bed as well because it was already so late in the morning. I knew that some of them haven't even been to bed yet.
Justin gave me something that would make sure that I would get at least a few more hours of sleep with the rest of them. I didn't want it, to be honest. Why the fuck would I want to see those images all over again? And the pathetic thing is, this just sounds like me repeating the same thing all over.
Surprisingly, John's the one who convinced me to take the shot. He said if I fell asleep I would most likely fall into complete darkness rather than seeing Leila again. I guess the medicine wore off because I woke up to shit I didn't want to see. The last thing I remember was seeing the guys horrified faces as Leila shot me. I need to ask El about that.
I lean against the headboard and run a hand over my face. My body is fucking sticky from the sweat, but my body is still too weak and tired to even get up and go take a shower. I guess the medication still hasn't run all of its way out of my system.
I'm suddenly brought back to the present when I feel eyes on me. I look to my left, where the bed has dipped, and see Ana looking at me. Of course she's in here. Does this woman ever fucking listen to what she's told to do?
"When did you get in here, and where's Gracie?" I ask a little too harshly, because I see her flinch.
"I came in here as soon as you fell asleep, and Gracie is with Kate." she says. "Now get over it. I wanted to make sure you were okay." she runs a hand over my face. "And it looks like you had a nightmare."
"That obvious?" I ask leaning my face into her touch. She nods.
"You're body is pale, shaking, and covered in sweat." she explains. "It's obvious."
She lays back down on the bed and I wrap my arms around her waist, laying my head on her chest. Her hands slide up and down my back making my whole body start to run hot. Then I feel her nails glide across my shoulder blades. My eyes automatically shut and I kiss her chest, burying my face in her neck.
"You know," I whisper, "if you weren't a musician, you'd make a perfect masseuse. " I mutter. "For me at least." she chuckles.
"Go back to sleep Christian." she says.
"What time is it?"
"Barely five. You've just been asleep for an hour. Get some rest."
"I'm really not tired."
"You sound like a child."
"Do not." after that flew out of my mouth, I realize I do. "Fuck. Fine, I'll go to sleep."
She turns the lamp off and we just lay there in silence. Her fingers still glide against my back as I keep my face buried in her neck. How the hell am I supposed to go to sleep with her touching me? All my dick can think about is being inside her.
I notice that her hands have stopped moving against my back and her breathing has grown heavy. Oh thank fucking goodness!
Bullshit rules. Have I ever followed them? No. Why am I doing it now? One word: Gracie.
I pull away from Ana, and kiss her lightly on the lips as I carefully get up. No wonder I broke the golden rule. This woman is goddamn aphrodite.
I still feel fucking weak but that isn't stopping my ass from getting out of here.
I walk out of the bedroom and make my way into the living room. On my way down the hall I step in some unknown puddle. I curse under my breath. Why the hell do these guys live like this? I swear I'm going to kick my own ass for running here.
I'm finally feeling better at least. Why did it have to be at five in the morning though where everyone was asleep? My ass is bored as hell.
My eyes fall on the balcony. Maybe since everyone is asleep I can finally go back out there and get some peace and quiet. Ana is amazing but now is my time to figure out what I want to do. I don't even know if I want to be with that woman. All I know is the thought of losing her is painful.
I walk into the kitchen and grab a bottle of water then head towards the balcony, unlocking the doors and opening them quietly. I walk over towards the railing and take a sip of water.
The stars have seemed to disappear and the sky has started to lighten up already. Well that was quick. I fucking hate New York. These guys may live out here but I have several other people I could have gone to. This tumor must have really fucked me up. I sigh loudly. This may not be as high as my penthouse but it's high enough where no one will notice me. I can notice them though.
Looking over the balcony I see that a woman is walking out of the alleyway pulling her coat close to her. She walks out of the shadows and leans against the brick wall. A moment later a man walks out then grips ahold of her arm. She doesn't seem affected by it, like she's used to this type of treatment, and the man's face is near the side of hers. A moment later she flinches.
The man then puts a finger in her face, most likely giving her a warning, then let's go of her arm. She doesn't move or take her eyes off of him. I watch him turn around and walk back into the alleyway. When he's gone I watch her take a deep breath.
The woman pulls out a cigarette from the purse hanging at her side and puts it between her lips. This woman is doing a scheme that isn't very original. I know from the get go what her ass is going to do. I watch a man start to walk by her and she eases herself off the wall and puts a hand on his shoulder.
Her lips move and after a moment he brings a hand up to her face, but I realize he has a lighter in his hand. She smiles seductively at him and gives him a wink.
The two of them talk for around five minutes until my eyes follow them as they move into the dark alley.
I lean further against the railing, shaking my head. Prostitutes, hookers, Escorts, and pimps know how to dominate this world in one swift move. They can easily manipulate you emotionally and physically. Most of the time the customer just wants company so they wouldn't feel alone and the two would just spend time talking to one another. That means that they will easily throw their money away.
This man, though, wants her lips wrapped around his cock.
I remember when a woman spent over five hundred dollars on me just so that I could pretend to be her son for a little while. It was so awkward for me, but she was happy. I felt sorry for her, and even though the pimp beat the shit out of me that night, I was glad to do it.
The fucker should have been happy I had gotten that amount for not even sleeping with the damn client. My mother should have defended me. I took her goddamn place so she wouldn't have to-
I take in a deep breath. I need to calm down before I lose it. Why couldn't I forget those fucking memories instead of the more cheerful ones? Oh fucking well, maybe I can create better memories.
I lay my chin on my hand and focus on the alley entrance. I'm basically what I was before. I sleep with many women and I don't give a shit what or who it is unless she gives me something in return. The only thing different this time is that I'm not being paid for it and the pimp is making me fuck men.
Moments later the two walk out of the alley. The girl is grinning at him, licking her lips. He just ignores her and heads down the street as if his day hadn't just started out with getting blown off by a hooker.
Getting sick of the scene before me, I turn around and walk back inside.
I walk into the kitchen, throw away my water bottle, and pull out orange juice and grab two Tylenol. My head only has a dull ache to it but I don't want to take a chance that the pain come back at me full force.
"Did that medicine not take its effect?" I turn around and see John taking a seat at the table. He still looks out of it.
"Guess not." I look at him. "What time are you leaving?"
"I'm not leaving." excuse me?
"Why is that?" I ask. "You have a wife at home who needs you more at the moment."
"I'm talking to Taylor who needs psychological help right now. My wife is fine. I'll be leaving at the end of the week." he explains. "When she gets pissed I get pissed, so sorry for snapping at you. But I slept on the couch the last time because you interrupted us."
"Cock block, huh?" he laughs.
"That's exactly what she said." he snickers. "It's nice having a break from her mood swings though." he looks at me quickly.
"If you ever meet her, don't you ever tell her that."
"Don't worry, John. You have my word." I say. "Can I ask you something?"
"Depends on what the question is." he eyes me suspiciously.
"Why is Taylor talking to you?" I ask.
He sighs loudly, looking at the ceiling. "You know I can't tell you that." he frowns. After a moment of silence he finally gives up, "But I will tell you that it does involve you."
"Fucking tease." I glare. "No wonder you slept on the couch."
"Asshole. That was your fault." he looks back at me. "Have you remembered anything? Want to talk about anything so I can bring out the psychiatrist in me?"
I shake my head grinning. This guy's fucking stupid. I wish he would go on home to his wife though. Being away from the one you love for this long must be hard on him and we're causing it. At least he's helping Taylor.
"What?" I ask. "No sitting on the couch where I stare at the ceiling?"
"Not yet." he says. "I'm serious Christian. What you tell me is just between you and me. Got it? The reason I say this is because I know you want to tell some things that you can't tell others." he explains. "So here's the option to talk to me."
I lean back against the counter and think about it for a moment. Should I talk to him about everything that's happened in my past up to now? I haven't told anyone, not even Grace or Carrick, about what had happened in my past. Grace just kicked my ass into shape when she saw me on the streets trying to buy drugs. She never knew I was a whore. That I had a pimp.
Maybe John will help me find myself. Letting out all of my anger and pain might be the right thing for me and it might even be good for my music. My memory isn't good right now but the pain is probably the result of it. Maybe if I leave the painful memories behind, my memory might come back to me.
Looking up at John I just nod then take a seat across from him. We sit in silence for a few minutes doing completely nothing. He breaks the silence by asking the one question that's already put a damper on things and makes me regret this whole shit.
"Grace is your adoptive mother. Is that right?" It still hurts to hear her name. I simply nod. "Okay Christian, tell me about the years before the Grey's."
I thought this would be easy with a psychiatrist, someone that would keep my secrets to themselves, but it's still hard to explain myself. I can already feel myself sweating. Goddamn, stop being a pussy Grey!
"Christian, you don't have to tell me anything right now." John says. "Now I know where one of the problems lie. Want to try something out with me?"
"I'm not kissing you dude." not going back to those dark times.
"Shut up." he mutters. "How about we work on a year of your age each week. You can talk about what happened during that year of age for the week then we will move on to the next. Deal?"
Talking about what happened to me at the age of four for a whole week. That sounds pretty easy besides the whole reliving it shit. I don't want to bring up my past to this man, but I know that's why I'm doing this shit for. Damn it!
"When do we start?" I grumble.