Christian's POV

"Your father?"

I'm stunned. At first I don't think I heard her correctly, but one glance at her face confirms it all for me. She sits on the bed with a thin sheet wrapped around her, shaking like a leaf. She looks up at me with an expression on pure terror and heartbreak. Her lips tremble, her eyes are wide and blood-shot and hold so much fear. My heart aches for this girl. She is the most wonderful, selfless and beautiful-souled person I've ever met. I just want to take her in my arms and squeeze until all this pain and confusion leaves her for good.

She nods her head, confirming what she just said. Reality slams into me hard. Before my mind can catch up, my fist flies into the nearest wall. The drywall caves in under my fist as bits and pieces fall to the floor. I can't fucking believe this. Ana just admitted that her own father is the one that's abusing her. I can't see straight I'm so furious.

I run my hands through my hair not knowing what to do. Should I call Taylor and get the police involved? Do I go over myself and beat the living shit out of him? Do I take her to a hospital and get her checked out? I spin around in circles trying to think of something rational when I hear Ana sniffling. Fuck, I almost forgot she was even in the room. I turn and see her huddled further up the bed with her arms wrapped around her knees. You're scaring her, you idiot!

"Ana," I reach my arm out and lift her chin up so she looks at me. Her light blue eyes are reddened and smeared with her black makeup. "I'm sorry I overreacted. I'm not angry at you, sweetheart." I stroke away her fallen tears and pull her into me, hugging her gently.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything." She whispers into my chest. I hold her and stroke her back, trying to convey that I'm here for her.

"Hush, everything is going to be okay now. Why don't we go sit and talk for a bit? You need to lift this weight off your chest, Ana. You'll feel so much better."

She nods her head slowly. "Okay, Christian. I'll talk to you."

Ana's POV

"Where do you want me to start? I'm sitting on a couch in what Christian calls the media room. I can see why he calls it that; there's a massive flat screen hanging on the wall, all kinds of gaming systems and movie posters lining the walls. Christian hands me a mug of hot chocolate and sits next to me.

"Why don't you start at the beginning." I take a deep breath and settle deeper into the couch. This is going to take a while, but it's time I do this. "When I was twelve my mom died of stage four breast cancer," I peek a glance at Christian who is giving his undivided attention. He's strong enough to hear all this. I can trust him. "I didn't have the best time growing up. My father wasn't the best husband or father figure. He was very abusive towards my mother and he didn't care if I saw it." I stop to take another deep breath. "My mom was all I had. I didn't have any siblings or real friends growing up. All I had was her and when she died I lost everything." I wipe away a stray tear. "I lived with my dad after that. I could tell he missed my mom but was also angry and I was the punching bag he used." I look back over and see that Christian hasn't looked away. He nods for me to continue. "It was bad, Christian. He would drink so much and no matter what I did it was always wrong in his eyes…and…" My throat closes up and I choke with tears.

Christian's arms come around me. "It's okay, Ana. You don't have to keep going."

"No." I sit back up and catch my breath. "I have to tell you. I have to get this out finally."

"Okay. Take your time." He looks at me with such a tender expression that I almost cry for a different reason.

"He was so hurtful towards me. I didn't even do anything wrong. He would just grab me and strike me for no reason." Images of my father storming after me with a bottle in his hand flash through my mind. My fingers itch to scratch at the scars he left on my back. All the pain and angst he caused me on top of being abandoned by my mother was for nothing! "I didn't do anything wrong." I cry out and grip onto the strong arm wrapped around me.

Christian stays quiet, but holds me close. He must feel so uncomfortable right now. "Everyday for the past twenty-two years he would physically and mentally abuse me. I never told anyone. Nobody even gave me a second glace anyway. I was told I wasn't pretty enough, that nobody would believe me, that I would turn everyone against me. I wasn't anything to anyone so I just endured the abuse. What was I supposed to do anyway? I'm like an abused dog that keeps going back to live in a nightmare that I can't wake up from. And when I was younger I didn't want to end up in foster care."

We sit quiet for a moment and let the confessions seep out into the air around us. It feels good to speak some of this out loud. It feels like a knot in my chest is listening and I can finally breath again. I turn towards Christian and cup his face with the palm of my hand. "I'm sorry you have to listen to all this, Christian. I know this isn't what you signed up for, but I just want you to know that I really, truly appreciate you being here to listen to me. Nobody has ever asked me before." I lean up and press my lips softly to his.

He returns the gesture and traces my jaw lightly with his fingertips. "Ana," He pressed his forehead against mine. "I want to be here for you. I'm glad you're choosing to talk to me about this. I can't say I'm happy about it, but I know you need to do this not for me, but for yourself."

I nod. "You're right. I have to get it all out now. I've held this in for so long…it feels good to say it out loud. I'm tired of being the same little girl who took other people's shit. For years I've never stood up to him, well, until recently obviously." I gesture to the bruises on my arms and the red marks on the back of my neck.

"Wait, what's on your neck?" He pushes the hair off my shoulder and strokes under my ear, just above my shoulder. "Jesus. I can't believe I didn't see it before. Did he-I mean,"

"Yes. He put his hands around my throat."

He growls and stands abruptly, his fingers going into his hair. "I can't fucking believe this." He paces back and fourth.

I sit still, afraid of what he's thinking. "I know. I shouldn't have shown you-"

"When." He bends down and his face is inches away from mine. His eyes blaze with rage and his lips curve into a snarl. "When did he do all this?"

I hesitate. "Christian, it doesn't matter anymore."

"Yes it fucking does, Ana. These are fresh marks on you. I need to know, when did this happen?" His voice is stern and he's not going to take no for an answer.

"A few days ago…when I went back home."

I watch as his eyes deepen in color until they're almost charcoal. His face hardens and his fists clench at his side. "You mean when you left here. Last Sunday when he called you screaming at you."

"Yes." I whisper, clutching a pillow to my chest. "I went home because I could tell he was furious at me. When I got home he was in an even worse mood and I didn't make it any better. I said some things back to him and he, well he did all this." My skin begins to crawl and I feel cold. I knew I was going to tell Christian all this eventually and I knew it wasn't going to be easy.

He stands and begins to pace again. "Wait," He spins to face me again. "That night you called me saying you had a nightmare. That wasn't the case was it?" His voice softens and I shake my head. "No. He was the nightmare." I whisper and watch his face break slightly.

"Jesus, Ana." He kneels in front of me and takes my face in his hands. "Why didn't you tell me?" He shakes me a little. "I could have done something about it. If I would have know you were going through all of this," He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "I would have never let you leave. I would have kept you here and safe, away from that fucking bastard."

I grip his wrists. My eyes sting with tears. "You would keep me? Here?" I want to believe him, but I know that offer is off the table now. He knows I'm damaged. He won't want me anymore.

"Yes, baby. God, I would do anything to keep you from harm. Especially when it's your own flesh and blood. I'm not going to let this go on any longer." His eyes are soft and tender. I want this to be real. God, I do. But I know he won't want me now. He will wash his hands of me soon.

Slowly I break our trance and lean back on the couch. I sigh and twist my hands together. "Christian," I begin. This is going to hurt like a bitch, but I have to rip this band-aid off already. The last thing I need is false hope. If he gives me a safe haven now and then kicks me to the curb, it would absolutely shatter me. "I know you mean well, but let's face it. I'm not what you want. I can't be what you want." My throat tightens, but I have to speak more truth. "We come from different worlds and you didn't want this. I signed up to be your submissive. I've already made you break your rules because of me and I can't destroy you in the process. I have so many issues and I can't bring them in here," I hold my arms out gesturing to the amazing penthouse I've had the pleasure of being in. "I don't belong here. I-I have to go back home now. I don't want to clutter your life anymore. You've been amazing. You've treated me better than anyone has my entire life and for that I will always be thankful. For a short time I could honestly say I was happy and slept in the nicest bed and ate the best food. I dream about your library and, well, and being with you." I can't help but blush at the memories of touching him and him moving inside me. "I won't ever forget you, Christian."

I sob and bring my lips to his in one last goodbye. The tears fall and I let them. I will miss him so much, but it's for the best. He didn't ask for this. I have to let him go now. I stand and leave him still kneeling on the floor. I take one last look at him on his knees with his head down. He must be exhausted and relived. I blink away the tears and head out of the room.

Christian's POV

I can't remember the last time my chest hurt this way. Maybe it was when the pimp used me as an ashtray or when I found my mother's lifeless body. But even then, this was a different type of pain.

She finally told me the truth. The fucking horrific truth that set my blood boiling. She didn't deserve this. None of it. And now she's leaving? Just like that? She tells me that her fucking dad is choking and hitting her and then she leaves! She only thinks she knows what I want. She doesn't know that I want to meet her father face to face and squeeze my hands so tight as I watch the life leave his worthless body. I want to kill him myself for what he's doing to her. I want to protect her, damnit. I want to keep her here where she's looked after and is safe from him and whatever else tries to harm a hair on her head. But she's leaving! No. I can't allow that.

"Ana!" I yell after her. The hallway in empty and I go to check her bedroom.

Empty.

I run up the stairs and check my bedroom.

Empty.

The library.

Also empty.

"Anastasia!" I yell and go back to the kitchen area. I begin to panic, thinking that she's already left when the elevator doors slide shut. "Ana!" I rush over and frantically press the button, willing them to open back up. They do. The metal doors slide open and there she stands in the corner wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants and crying into her hands.

"Please, Christian." She sobs. "Don't make this harder."

I walk in and take her in my arms. Her tiny body shakes like a leaf. "Ana, please don't leave. Not like this." I press kisses into her hair. She sniffles and lifts her head. "No more crying and no more running." I wipe away her fallen tears. She looks so tired. She must be physically and mentally shot right now. It occurs to me that we left the event before dinner could be served.

I quickly swoop down and take her in my arms, carrying her back through the foyer. "W-what are you doing?"

"Taking care of you." The elevator doors shut behind us. "And you're going to let me."