NDAs and Unveiled Secrets

Disclaimer - All the rights to the wonderful world of Fifty Shades Trilogy belongs to E.L. James. I do not own any of the characters from the trilogy. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: So…drum roll…Ana's story. Without further ado, presented to you by yours truly. I do hope you guys had a magnificent Valentine's Day, full of hearts and flowers :D

Warning: This chapter contains graphic depiction of violence, verbal assault and sexual assault. This chapter contains some pretty twisted stuff, dark and heavy. So, reader's discretion is advised. Those of you that have problems with any of the things depicted, please skip this chapter. Mature audience only, please. All this is part of my story line and creation process, and please respect the warning. Don't send hate mail over it, as you've been properly warned.

Anastasia's POV

Monday morning comes way too soon for my liking. Me and Elliott part ways with a long, lingering kiss, both of us regretting to come down from our little heaven and to let the reality crash down upon us.

The rest of our weekend was just…I don't think there are appropriate words to describe it. I don't want to tarnish the memories with such unexceptional entities as words. He was so sweet and thoughtful for the rest of the weekend, attentive to my every need or desire. I like this side of him, also. How many more of them are there?

I never thought I would be so comfortable around another person. But it is what it is. I feel more comfortable around him than I feel around my own family and friends. I can always feel a kind of connection between us, like an invisible thread that bounds us to each other. And this thread has as many aspects as we do. It can stay loosened as it stays when we find ourselves in our joint comfortable silence, it can be coiled as it is every time our strong personalities collide or it can crackle with buzzing electricity in our more heated moments.

Despite my current sunny disposition, one thought swivels in the pits of my mind, threatening to sour my good mood. All through morning, Elliott's words from Saturday evening haunt me. Tell me about your scars. I don't dare to dwell too much on the fact, but my hands start trembling nonetheless. My anxiety threatens to kick in and my demons plead with me to let them out to play.

I start sweating and my lip is bloody from all the biting. My palms are full of little half-moon shaped marks, my nails digging in them every time my chest constricts, a particularly bad memory sending a painful pang to my heart.

By lunch, I know I have to do every possible thing there is out there to pull myself from this miserable state. And what worries me the most is the fact that I actually want to tell him. Deep in my heart, I know I have the responsibility to let him know about my past. But that doesn't make it any easier for me. My throat constricts painfully at the thought of him knowing and I don't know if I'm going to be able to utter a single word, not to mention a whole sentence.

Plus, I'm really worried of the outcome and of his reaction. I can feel the shadow of my insecurity creep up on me and I fight with all I've got to stop it from encompassing me. I'm afraid he'll be disgusted with me once he'll know. I'm afraid he'll reject me or pity me. I'm afraid to let him know how fucked-up I truly am.

The walls start closing around me and I feel I can't breathe when I realize that once I take that step there's no way back. If I'm going to let him in, I have to tell him everything. My entire story has to resurface. All of my demons have to be exorcised.

With sweaty, shaky hands I pick up the phone and dial a familiar number, not taking even one breath until I hear the voice on the other end.

"Hello Anastasia" she greets me.

"I have to tell him everything" I hiss, whimpering in the end.

"Ana…take a deep breath. Calm down and tell me what's wrong."

"Sheila…" I whimper her name, like I expect her to come out of the receiver and hug me. I try to calm myself and for a few minutes nothing but my ragged breath fills the silence. "He asked about my scars…"I finally utter the words. "He wants to know."

Sheila remains quiet for a moment. "Do you want him to know?"

"I…I don't know."

"What happened sweetie? Tell me about you two…what have you been up to since the last time we spoke?"

"Not much…we talked and…we saw each other every day last week, except for Monday when he had to work late. We spent the nights together and on Saturday…he surprised me and took me away for the weekend."

"Whoa…that's great, sweetie. You made a lot of progress. You let someone in and spent so much time together with another person. That's great news."

I scoff to myself. "Yeah…Whatever. Now I'm freaking out because I don't know if I should tell him about my past or not. I already told him about my family…"

"You did?" comes Sheila shocked answered. "That's wonderful. See, you already made the first step."

"This is something else." I say morosely, closing my eyes.

"It's different, but it doesn't mean that it's necessarily bad. Tell me, what are you afraid of? The fact that you let him in or the fact that you want to tell him?"

"I…I suppose both. I feel like I want to tell him."

"So you're freaking out because you became intimate with a person."

"I'm afraid we're way past that point…" I snort.

"I meant emotionally…" Sheila admonishes. "You want to tell him which means that you're becoming intimate with him, that you want to let him in. And it scares you, and it's perfectly normal for someone with your past."

"I'm afraid of his reaction. What if he doesn't want me anymore? What if I'll disgust him?"

"Ana…we talked about this. Nothing of this is your fault. You're just a victim…"

I remain quiet, already filling the rest of the lecture in my mind. "I know." I say, hoping to put a stop to this part.

"Look, sweetie. If it helps, look at it as some kind of test, a trial of some sorts. If he doesn't take it well, then he's not good for you and you can stop wasting time on him. No matter the outcome, this is good for you. It's progress. You want to share what happened with someone. "

"I suppose it's easier if I look at it this way. Thanks, Sheila." I say, letting out a breath of relief. "I just hope I can let it out, you know…form coherent sentences." I finish, chuckling pathetically.

"You will. You're so strong, Anastasia. You don't have any idea. Keep me posted, okay sweetie? And remember, I'm just a phone call away. And I'll always answer."

"I know. Thank you. Talk to you later." I end the call, before I end up sniffing in tears because of Sheila's motherly manner.

By mid-afternoon I know I reached my decision. I will follow Sheila's advice. I have to put a halt to my current state of mind. And in order to calm myself, I have to let him know. I will tell him everything; I have to, for my peace and quiet. And he has a right to know. And he asked. So, brace yourself, Elliott Grey, because tonight, a bomb will be dropped upon you.

Once my work day is over and I received word from Elliott that he arrived at the hotel, I don't waste another second before I launch myself in a cab and knock on his door, guns blazing.

"Anastasia…what…" he says, once he sees my determination.

I stroll past him, stopping in the middle of his living room. For all my apparent bravado, my stomach is in knots and I can feel my legs threatening to give up on me. I plop myself on the couch before the room starts to spin.

"Are you okay?" he asks me, concern marring his face.

I nod and take a deep breath, not trusting myself to speak just yet. I pat the spot next to me on the couch and he takes it, taking my hand in one of his, brushing his thumb over my knuckles. His touch soothes me and with another deep breath I start talking.

"You wanted to know about my scars…" I trail off, waiting for his reaction. His jaw clenches, but his eyes remain soft. He nods once. "Are you sure…this…is pretty fucked up."

He doesn't speak, just nods once more, sensing the seriousness of the situation. I kick off my shoes and bring my feet to the couch, hugging my knees with one hand. The other remains in his and I squeeze it once, trying to take strength from him. I put my chin on my knees and stare right ahead. I don't know if I can utter a single word if I were to look at him.

"This is hard for me, but, for some reason, I want you to know. Promise me you'll listen to me until the end and you won't interrupt me. If you can't bear to hear any more, just say so and I'll stop. For good. I don't know if I can do this one more time…" I finish, sighing and I feel his hand squeezing mine.

"I never told anybody this story, except to my therapist. My friends and family know what happened, but they never asked more from me and I never offered. Nobody knows the details and I don't want them to know. It was too hard for me…Oh wait." I jump from the couch, remembering something.

I return to the couch after rummaging through my office bag. "This is an NDA. It's a standard non-disclosure agreement…it's not that I don't trust you…but with my family being…and my father…" I stutter pathetically. "I have to get you to sign before…before I say anything else. It's enough you know who my father is. Not many people do, by the way." He looks at me with wide eyes and an emotion I can't quite pinpoint is sketched upon his face…amusement maybe. "I'm sorry about it…but it's standard procedure…" he stops me, raising his hands and shaking his head.

"Stop…say no more. I get it. Trust me, I get it." He says, producing a pen from his pocket and signing the document. I let out a breath of relief and take the copy from him, letting him have the original, stuffing it deep in my office bag, not even sparing it a second glance, disgusted with myself. I never liked the damn things.

I resume my previous place on the couch, next to him, hugging my knees tighter. I swallow a few times, trying to gulp the lump in my throat and calm the nerves in my stomach.

"I'm afraid to tell you. I debated with myself since you asked me about the scars on Saturday. I'm afraid because I know you'll be disgusted once you know just how fucked-up I am. I know you'll reject me afterwards and you won't be able to look at me, but for some reason I have to tell you. I want you to know and I don't know why." He starts to say something but I cut him off. "Don't. Please. Just let me talk."

I take another deep breath, my eyes frozen on a spot on the opposite wall. "Remember when I told you my father took me to live with him at his estate? It was not only us there; his whole family lived there. It's a huge place, and all the family is congregated there. It's the center of everything that makes the Bouvois…well…the Bouvois. Anyway, I had problems adjusting to the change, even though Ray was with me, and Jose and his family. I hardly saw them anymore, they had to live in a different section and Ray and Jose's father had to take their duties more seriously. I felt misplaced, a misfit, I couldn't seem to get along with the rest of the family. They gave me strange looks, and even though they all were polite enough, I felt that they treated me differently. I wasn't good enough for them; I wasn't up to their standards. I never was a part of their ugly world and I never wanted to. It's all smoke and mirrors, anyway. I never was a true Bouvois, even though I had the blood of one of the heads of the family coursing through my veins."

"After my first week there, a cousin of mine befriended me. Jacques was the only one that cared about me. We started spending more time together, he included me in his activities, and we sat next to each other at the table, that sort of things. He made me feel better about myself, I started not to care about the other members and I became invisible to them, also. Six months after, his behavior towards me started to change. He became more prying, demanding to know where I've been and what I did, with whom. He would get mad at me if I didn't answer him, he became jealous of Jose. When I confronted him about his behavior, he confessed to me that he liked me, that he thought he was falling for me. I was shocked that someone like him could look at someone like me. He was so handsome, and well-mannered, elegant. He was two years older than me. But I couldn't see him like that. I mean, I was flattered, but he was my cousin and a part of that world. We just couldn't be. When I told him that, he got upset and refused to talk with me for two weeks."

"Looking back now, I think I would have preferred the situation staying that way. One night, after those two weeks, he came to my room. I woke up and he was in bed with me, his hand over my mouth…it was so dark and despite the fact that I couldn't see who it was and he never uttered a single word, I knew it was him. I could smell him…" A shudder passes through me at the painful memory and I gulp, but continue with my story. I refuse to let my demons stop me now.

"He started talking after some time, saying awful things to me…how I was just a teasing bitch, how I was right that I wouldn't be good enough for him and he knew just the way to treat me…Then, he started threatening me, describing all the things he would do to me if I ever told anyone. He said he would make Ray's and Jose's lives a nightmare, that nobody would believe me, anyway. It would be my word against his. By the time he finished talking, I was a mess. I was frightened, terrified, and not only because of what he said, but rather because I had no idea who that person was. He wasn't the Jacques I thought I knew anymore. He never touched me that night…At the time I really thought that it wouldn't be possible to hurt me more than he did with his words. This continued for a few weeks…he would come up in my room on some nights. And it was terrifying because I never knew when he would come for his little nighttime visit." I pause, drawing in a long breath, trying to calm my raging heart.

"After a particularly bad night, a night when he was the cruelest and said the meanest things I ever heard, I decided I had to tell someone. My father was supposed to get back from a business trip that day and I spent all morning pacing my bedroom, composing my speech. After he arrived and closed himself in his office, as usual, I gathered my courage and went to him. Only, when I entered, my uncle, my grandfather and Jacques were there. I began stammering, saying I had to talk about something with my father, but he dismissed me, he said he was busy and that we'll talk later. Jacques saw right through me. That night the…the sexual abuse began…" I stopped, hearing Elliott's sharp intake of breath. I looked over at him, silently asking if I should continue. He closed his eyes, but nodded at me.

"I'll spare you the gory details…I don't want that shit in your head. All you need to know is that it eventually stopped. Ray accidentally entered my room when I was changing one day and he saw my back…needless to say how mad he was when I told him. I really thought he will kill the bastard and I can't say that I wouldn't have been happy. Ray went straight to my father and they had an argument…My father was shocked at first, but then he got spitting mad also. I thought the whole estate will collapse that day from the sheer force of their anger."

"What happened to the fucker? Is he in jail?" Elliott asks with tone of disgust in his voice. I hoped it wasn't directed at me.

I let a bitter laugh. "No…justice doesn't apply to people like him. Of course the family couldn't afford a scandal of that magnitude…so they kept the whole thing quiet. But my father sent him away. I guess you could say he's in a jail of some sorts. My father keeps him in his most secluded property he owns in Europe, with security 24/7 around. He can't leave, hell; he can't make one move without my father finding out."

"I can't believe your family never suspected a thing…How come?" Elliott asks, somewhat shocked.

I shrug, averting my eyes, ashamed. "I hid it pretty well, I guess. And he was always careful not to let marks where I couldn't hide them. Ray and Jose noticed a difference in my behavior, but when they asked me I told them I wasn't taking the change in my life very well…they just thought I was unhappy about the whole living arrangement."

A long stretch of silence passes and I don't dare look over at Elliott, too afraid of what I could find in his eyes. I can feel the coppery taste of blood on my tongue and I release my bottom lip.

Elliott clears his throat and says "You still didn't explain the scars…how you got them I mean."

I close my eyes, shuddering at the thought of sharing with him my deepest, darkest secret. But, I have come so far…I have to tell him before the walls start to close in on me.

"He used his belt to…if I was lucky he would stop before I started bleeding…if I wasn't he would use the buckled end and he wouldn't stop until he draw blood. And if I was really lucky he wouldn't use any of his toys." I finished quietly, almost whispering now, trying to hold back my tears. I expected Elliott to ask me to leave, or to puke his guts out by this time, but he surprised me with a question instead.

"Toys?"

I stopped breathing, realizing I let out more than I intended to. I sighed deeply, before speaking again. "Yes…he couldn't…"I trail off, gesturing to Elliott's crotch, avoiding his eyes. "So, he used different toys or devices to…to rape me." I whimper pathetically. "He didn't always did this…but sometimes he became frustrated because he couldn't…you know…get aroused and…those were the times he was particularly violent." I shudder in horror as the memories flood me and I take several short breaths trying to suppress my sudden need to retch.

"Why did you put up with it all? Why did you never tell anyone?"

I snort. "Trust me; I'm not particularly proud of myself. I…I was weak and terrified of him. And I believed him when he kept saying those things about me. That I was nothing, a piece of trash, that I would never be good enough for anyone and that I deserved everything he did to me, that it was more than I warranted…."

I finish talking and only now I realize the stream of tears on my cheeks and that Elliott is holding me, my back to his chest, his fingers drawing circles on my left thigh. I suck in a breath and turn in his embrace, gathering all my remaining courage to look into his eyes. I expected him to regard me with a look of pure disgust, or pity, but neither of those emotions is in his gaze. He looks at me with wide eyes, full of wonder and awe. I furrow my brow, confused about his reaction. I don't know why he's looking at me like that.

"If…if you w-want me g-gone now, I understand." I stammer nervously.

Next thing I know, Elliott buries me in his strong arms, kissing me with all he's got. His kiss is passionate, but gentle and it contains something else I can't pinpoint exactly. His taste soothes me and I lose myself in his kiss. He gets up from the couch, cradling me in his embrace, not breaking the kiss and leads me to the bedroom, putting me gently on the bed. He undresses me slowly, kissing every inch of my exposed skin, tenderly touching every part of my body.

He turns me on one side and kisses every inch of my back, like he's trying to make my scars disappear. Tears pool once again in my eyes and I fully embrace the sensations in my body. I lose myself in him.

He gets undressed, also and buries himself deep in me, moving slowly, letting me enjoy every inch of him. He continues kissing me and my body, licking and nipping at my jaw and neck. His hands roam over my body, caressing it with feather light touches. I think he's making love to me. I come silently at the thought, shuddering in his hold. He follows me not long after, burying his head in the crook of my neck. He looks at me once he comes down from his high and gives me a small smile. We take our usual sleeping position and he snakes both of his arms around me, holding me tight. I close my eyes, lulling myself to sleep, the thought that I never felt safer in my life than in this moment on my mind.