Chapter 37 – Mrs. Collins
Christian
Mrs. Collins, or Nicole, how she insisted we should call her is a nice lady. The way she smiles and converses reminds me of my mother, Grace. She is probably a few years younger than my parents and is dressed in a simple navy pantsuit. The only jewelry she is wearing is the simple gold wedding band. Her hands nervously fidget with a package she is holding in her hands while Ana prepares us all something to drink. What the hell is taking her so long?
"Your apartment is beautiful." She says while looking around. "Do you play?" She asks pointing at the grand piano.
"I do. My mother, Grace, taught me." I answer proudly.
"I am sorry it took so long." Ana enters the room with a tray in her hands. "But I can't seem to figure out that coffee machine." She blushes when she places the tray on the table.
"Have you been together long?" Nicole asks while she pours a little cream in her coffee.
"We have known each other for about five years."Ana says silently. "Things got…complicated and we both went our separate way." She explains further. "We bumped into each other a little over a month ago."
"Well, you've probably heard this before, but you are a beautiful couple together." Nicole smiles and slowly places her coffee cup back on the table.
"I've brought a few photo albums. Maybe you would like to see them. It might trigger a memory."
Why the fuck does she carry those things with her? Probably sensing the confusion on my face she quickly adds. "My daughter loves looking through these albums…"
She stands, and glances over to the empty seat next to me. "Do you mind if I sit next to you?"
"No, not at all." I mutter, suddenly feeling nervous.
"Maybe I should start to tell you how my husband and I became foster parents." She places the brown leather photo book on the table and folds her hands in her lap.
"Of course." My eyes dart towards the photo book and nervousness creeps into my body. I can't stand this. I can't stand the fact that I don't remember this nice woman. She took care of me for a couple of months and yet I don't remember her. I don't remember anything from that time. It's frustrating and I don't like the feeling of loss of control it causes.
"We started out as short-term foster parents after it somehow fell into our laps. My daughter had a friend whose parents couldn't take care of her. She would stay with us for days. She would come to our house right after school and she stayed the night. After a few days she went back to her own house and her mother didn't want anything to do with her anymore. The situation escalated…" Her voice fades and since I first saw her this afternoon she actually looks sad.
"We contacted social services and she was placed in our home. That is when we decided that we wanted to make a positive difference into a child's life."
"Are you still fostering?" Ana asks while holding her coffee mug in both her hands.
"Oh no! We are too old for that now." She says and blushes.
She reaches for the photo book and opens it. "You were living with us for a week when these pictures were taken." She points at two pictures and I don't even dare to look at it.
"Oh, Christian." Ana breathes. "You looked so small." Moving closer to me Ana places her head on my shoulder and I am thankful for the contact. Taking a deep breath of air I look at the photograph and I see a small little boy with eyes too big for his face wearing dark blue jeans with a light blue polo and white sneakers. I am clutching a light blue blanket against my chest and in my other hand I am holding a little toy car and I look … terrified.
"I love you hair." Ana says brushing her fingertips over the picture. "You were a beautiful boy." She whispers.
The next photo shows a much younger Mrs. Collins and a man probably around his forties proudly laughing at the camera. There is a tall, lanky girl standing next to the older couple with the same facial features as Mrs. Collins. "That's my daughter." She says proudly. "She was fourteen when you came to live with us."
I nod my head, not knowing what else to do. I don't remember her.
"You had a big kitchen…" I hear myself say. "With a huge, wooden table and there was a jar filled with cookies on the kitchen counter."
She nods her head and carefully places her hand on my arm.
"You loved Mac and Cheese. Well you ate everything, but Mac and Cheese was definitely your favorite. You always held on to the little, blue blanket and when the children would get too loud, you would hide…"
"In the kitchen cabinet…" I finish for her.
"Yes." She whispers.
"But you never got mad." I state and remember how the pimp would drag me out of my hiding place and kick me if I so much even made a fucking noise.
"You somehow felt safe there. So my husband cleared the cabinet and even placed a few cushions so that you at least would be comfortable."
I nod my head as I try to recall the details she is sharing with me. I don't remember the cushions but I do remember the cabinet.
"There was a cat?" I ask unsure. "And chickens?"
"Yes." She beams. "Mr. Snuggles. You loved him. At first you were terrified, but soon you two were joined at the hip."Knitting her brows in confusion she stares at me. "Mr. Snuggles disappeared from one day to another, though, and the chickens belonged to the neighbors."
"Who is that?" Ana points at a taller looking boy with red hair. There is something about his face that is unsettling.
"Oh, dear…I don't remember his name now." She shakes her head in annoyance and sighs. "I am sure it will come to me in a minute. But he was so troubled." She sighs. "He was placed into our care because his mother wasn't able to take care of him. He was always fighting for attention and when your parents came by to visit you, and they came every day, he would sit with them and be on his best behavior. It broke my heart to witness that."
"My parents came to visit me every day?" I ask.
"Oh yes. Every day and sometimes they would bring your brother." She smiles fondly. "He was such a sweetheart with those sparkling blue eyes and those blonde curls. He was very protective of you too." She says nodding her head. "He talked so much." She laughs. "And he was a little loud too and then your parents would tell him to use his inside voice, he would nod his head and then he started to whisper, but he never stopped talking." Not much has changed then.
"My brother, Elliot, he owns the biggest construction company in Washington State and he is getting married in a few months."
"I know and you also have a little sister, Mia." She says. "I stayed in touch with most of the adoptive parents. Most of the time the contact would diminish as the years passed, but not with your parents. They kept us informed about your developments and occasionally they also would send us a picture." Typically Grace. I think to myself.
"How long did I stay with you?"
"About two and a half months." She responds matter of fact. "You were such a brave little boy."
I really wasn't. I remember Mr. Collins being too tall and his boots scared me. He had a loud voice and huge, calloused hands.
"Oh and you loved the book called 'Are you my mother'. Every night before you went to bed you would climb on one of the chairs, you would pull the book from the shelve and give it to me. I would sit by your side and I read it to you. You always made me read it to you a couple of times before I could convince you to go to sleep." I chuckle and look at the picture one more time.
Slowly, little snippets of memories come back to me. "There was also a swing in the back yard and a little pool…the house…your house was blue." I whisper.
"Yes, it was exceptionally warm those few months so my husband bought one of those inflatable pools." Her face falls. "You weren't allowed to go in the pool though because of your injuries. The risk for infections was too big."
"Oh, now I remember that little boy's name. It was Jack Hyde." What the fuck?
"Jack Hyde?" Ana asks.
"Yes. Jack Hyde I am sure of it." She says matter of fact. "It was so sad. Because he really caused a lot of trouble. The real trouble started a few days after your parents came to pick you up. He started to physically harm the other children. And even though we knew his behavior derived because of the trauma he already had endured we weren't able to handle him anymore and we asked the case worker to remove him. We struggled with this for a very long time because we knew that he would keep bouncing from home to home making his behavior worse each time." I feel Ana's nails digging into my thigh.
"The last thing I heard from him through the agency was that he had won a scholarship and graduated at the University of Detroit with honors. I believe he studied English Literature." She muses. Fuck! It's him!
"Can I look at that picture one more time?" Ana asks.
"Of course."
"Look at his eyes, Christian." Bringing the book closer to her face, Ana intently studies the photograph. "In this picture his hair is red and the Jack we know has dark blonde hair." She says, but mostly to herself.
"Do you know him?" I hear Nicole asks.
"If he is who we think he is, then he is one of Ana's neighbors in the building she has her studio." I offer. No need to tell her that I already did a background check on this fucker and that something tells me not to trust him.
"A studio?"
"Yes, Anastasia is a free-lance photographer." I say and fuck if I don't feel proud. I almost pull out Ana's laptop to show her Ana's work.
"I was meaning to surprise my daughter with pictures of her daughter but somehow since she lives here in New York and I still live in Detroit it's hard to arrange. The time we spent with them is short and…"
"I would love to make some photographs." Ana offers smiling.
"How old is your granddaughter."
"She is six months old and the most beautiful little girl I have ever seen." She says proudly.
Reaching for her handbag, Nicole pulls out a small leather wallet and shows us a picture of indeed an adorable little girl.
"She is beautiful." Ana says. "What's her name?"
"Hope." Something passes her eyes as she looks down at the picture of her granddaughter.
"Well, it would be an honor to photograph little Hope." Ana says giving back the photograph. If you have the opportunity you could bring her here. Do you have something in mind? A theme?" I smile and I just love seeing Ana like this.
Ana start spewing ideas and Nicole is getting more excited with every passing second. While the women are chatting I fire a text to Welch and Taylor.
I need to know about Jack Hyde's whereabouts. Now.
"You don't mind do you that I suggested for her to come here with her granddaughter? I mean you have so much space and I saw that one of the guestrooms would be perfect." She is rambling and fidgeting with her fingers.
"Baby, this is your house too." She looks bewildered for a second and then nods her head slowly.
"I could help you." I offer carefully. I am trying to keep our conversation casual to avoid the buzzing sound in my ears. I see her grinning at me as she stands on her toes to kiss the top of my nose.
I hear her talking about being her assistant but the noise in my head and the beating of my heart is too loud. Through the noise I hear her warning me and saying that photographing babies is a challenge. And all I want to do is hold her, maybe she can keep me from losing my fucking mind.
She walks to the table and starts placing the empty mugs back on the tray when she looks back at me over her shoulder.
"How do you feel?" She asks rising back to her full height. Brushing my hands over my face I am tempted to brush everything away. But this is Ana asking. I can't and won't lie to her. Besides, she can see right through me. The buzzing in my ears is getting louder and louder and the pressure on my chest is unbearable.
"Fucked up." I answer honestly. "I mean how the fuck is it possible that my birthmother, my own flesh and blood didn't give two flying fucks about me." I can feel my heartbeat rising and I close my eyes and press my lips together. Panic. Swiftly I am overwhelmed by a wave of panic. It is taking over my body and there is nothing I can do to fight it. What if there are more things I don't remember?
My hands and feet feel numb and tingle at the same time, but I fight it. I can't lose control. I can't fucking lose control. Fight it, Grey! Fight it!
"I was her son! She left me alone, Ana!" I yell even though my voice sounds different.
I try to focus on Ana but everything seems hazy and distant. I see her moving towards me. She looks confused and frightened. Her eyes are wide and glassy. And I know she is calling my name, but I can't respond. I am warm and cold and I feel like I am chocking. "Ana…I…don't…" My arm feels so heavy but I only need Ana.
Anastasia
His face looks flushed and his hair is all over the place as he keeps pacing and yanking the collar of his shirt in frustration.
"I was her son! She left me alone, Ana!" He says, but his voice…his voice somehow sounds distorted.
He continues to pull at the collar of his shirt and his breathing is becoming ragged. "Ana…I…don't…"
"Christian! Christian! What's wrong?" He is swaying on his feet and his eyes turn away even though he is trying to focus on me. He lifts his arm and that is when I notice that his skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat, his eyes huge and wide while he is gasping for breath and shaking. And it is like he wants to say something but then he collapses on the floor.
I close the distance in a few steps and again I feel like this isn't happening. Like I am having an awful dream that I can't seem to wake up from. I kneel down and take his hand in mine and I feel the tears sliding down my cheeks. His eyes are wide open, his body still shaking and he looks absolutely terrified.
"Christian! Christian! Talk to me….wh-at…what is going on?" Oh my god, he is having a heart attack.
"Christian, this isn't funny." I say and I can hear the terror in my voice. Something tells me that I need to relax, but I can't. Something is wrong with him.
"Taylor!" I scream. "Taylor!" They can't hear me, they are too far away.
I hesitate when I look down at Christian, but I need help…I need Taylor, Sawyer, someone.
I run to the door and yank it open. "Taylor! Sawyer!" I scream.
When I run back to Christian I hear heavy footsteps on the stairs and what feels minutes later but is just only seconds Sawyer and Taylor are standing in the living room.
"Ms. Steele?"
"Taylor…I don't know what's happening…one moment we were talking and his breathing started to become ragged and he was pulling at the collar of his shirt…His voice sounded so strange and then he collapsed. I don't know what's happening. Oh my god, we need an ambulance." Taylor sits on his haunches next to Christian and checks his pulse. He looks so freaking calm!
He turns around to look at Sawyer who is standing behind him and nods his head ones. Immediately Sawyer pulls out his phone and calls 9-1-1.
"Mr. Grey! Christian, I think you are having a panic attack but Sawyer is calling an ambulance." He looks at me briefly and gives me a reassuring smile. "Hold his hand, Ana." I do exactly as Taylor tells me and start rubbing my thumb over his knuckles.
Christian's body remains trembling and I don't think I will ever forget the terrified look on his face. His eyes are open wide as her stares at me. It is like he knows what's happening but he can't control his body.
"Concentrate on your breathing, Christian." Taylor says calmly.
"Breathe in…" He waits five seconds. "Breathe out…" surprisingly; Christian does exactly what Taylor tells him to do. Christian's eyes are fixed on Taylor while he slowly talks to him.
"You are doing a good job, Christian." Taylor encourages him. Christian's eyes dart to mine full of panic. I smile and nod my head still caressing his hand.
I have no idea how long it takes for the ambulance to get to Christian's apartment and I don't even know who let them in. Probably Reynolds who guides the EMT to where Christian is lying on the floor.
One of them, an older looking man, starts asking me questions; his name, age and what happened. With my eyes strained on Christian I answer every single question. I watch them put a mask over his mouth and it is so surreal. This can't be happening. It is when they open his shirt that I snap out of it. I gently push his hands back and shake my head. "Please, don't touch his chest or back if not necessary. He has Haphephobia." He nods his head once and turns his attention back to Christian.
"Christian, you are having a panic attack we are going to take good care of you." The EMT starts. But Christian's eyes are pinned on mine.
"Miss, I would like to ask you to step away. I need to establish eye contact with him and help him calm down his breathing." I nod my head but I am unable to move. I need to stay with him. He needs me.
"No!" I scream when I feel hands on my shoulders trying to pull me away from Christian. "I need to stay with him!" The hands are too strong and Christian's hand slips away from mine.
"Ana, listen to me." I am suddenly facing Taylor whose hands remain on my shoulders. "Christian needs to focus on the EMT and he isn't doing that when you are there. He will be all right, Ana. You heard the EMT he is having a panic attack."
"I want to go with him to the hospital. I need to be in the ambulance with him." I ramble. Behind me I hear the EMT buckling Christian on a stretcher.
"Why don't we go down to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee?" Taylor asks. He hasn't left my side the entire time. Sawyer is posted outside of Christian's door and he was the one to drive with Christian in the ambulance. Somehow my presence was too distracting for Christian.
I stare at him and at the closed door. "The nurse just told us that they are still running some tests, Ana" He rises from his seat and extends his hand. "Sawyer will let us know the moment you can go in to see him." He shows me his phone and nods at Sawyer who nods back.
"Okay." I concede.
"The coffee is horrible." Taylor says giving me one of his rare smiles.
"Hospital coffee." I state shrugging my shoulders and take the coffee cup to my lips. Despite the fact that it's Christmas, the cafeteria is buzzing with people. I spot a mother with two children standing at the sandwich stand. The kids appear to be not much older than six years and they somehow can't seem to decide which sandwich to choose. I smile when I see them going back and forth and there is even a little argument when both kids want the same sandwich. Other people are quietly talking together sitting at the horrible white tables. Reynolds is standing at the door. Hands on his back and taking in his surroundings.
"Do you have children, Taylor?"
He seems surprised by my question but then the stoic expression he normally wears slowly falls of his face to be replaced by a smile.
"I do. I have a daughter. Her name is Sophie and she is six years old." He says proudly. Punching a few buttons on his phone a picture of a little, blonde girl fills the screen. She is smiling widely at whoever took the picture. She has the most beautiful blue eyes and front teeth she is missing makes her look adorable. My eyes dart to Taylor.
"She is a beautiful little girl, Taylor. I bet you will have to keep the boys away with a stick in a couple of years." His smile is immediately replaced by a scowl and a low grumble sounds from his chest.
Before he has the change to react his phone chimes with an incoming message and he immediately rises from his chair.
"That was Sawyer. They have finished with the tests."
"Ah you must be Ms. Steele." A young looking man with dark brown hair and blue eyes says when we reach Christian's room.
"Hello." I say extending my hand.
"I am Dr. Hayley." He says smiling showing me perfect white teeth. His eyes dart to Taylor who is standing a few feet away from me and gives him a little nod. His eyes then turn to look back at me.
"Christian is doing fine. To be absolutely sure about the diagnosis we performed a thorough physical examination." Casually he puts his hands in his slacks and widens his stance.
"Since Christian suffered from a severe panic attack we would like to keep him here for a few hours. I offered him to contact my colleague, a behavioral therapist, who can teach Christian breathing and muscle relaxation techniques to help him gain a sense of better control over his body during another possible panic attack. But he declined." Of course he did.
"Christian told me that he has been dealing with a lot of stress these last couple of weeks and that he knows what triggered the panic attack, so he won't need any medication. He also told me that he would contact his psychiatrist as soon as he gets home."
"Panic attacks are very frightening, the anxiety Christian just felt is traumatizing and the whole experience is the worst a person can have. He might feel a little dizzy, week and tired for a few days and the best way to get his body back into balance is to work out or walk."
"Is there anything else I can do?"
"Be patient with him. He refused to tell me what had caused the panic attack but I sense that there is something traumatizing underneath it all. He might feel confused and angry even." I try not to snort. Oh I am sure he will be angry.
Dr. Hayley motions with his arm to the door. "You can go in now. He fell asleep just a few minutes ago. If he wakes up and feels good enough to leave he can go. I will ask the nurse to start with the release forms."
"Thank you, Dr. Hayley."
"Please have a seat, Taylor. You don't have to keep standing." I say pointing to one of the chairs in the room.
"I will give you some privacy." He replies opening the door. "I will be right outside with Sawyer if there is anything you need."
"Thank you, Taylor, for everything."
"You are welcome, Ms. Steele." Ah, we are back to Ms. Steele.
As soon as Taylor closes the door I take a seat on the chair closest to Christian's bed. He looks peaceful. He has his hands folded over his stomach and his head turned slightly to my side. It's not often that I can watch him sleep so I take my time taking in every detail of his face.
His curly, copper colored hair falling over his forehead. I smile remembering our conversation yesterday about cutting his hair. Christian was right, I should never be allowed to cut his hair again, well actually anybody's hair for that matter.
He is beautiful, but that is just a very small part of him. Sure I fell for the handsome, mysterious and very angry guy when I first met him but I just knew there was more to him than his beautiful face.
When he started to open up to me I could almost feel the struggle he had with his sense of worth. He constantly told me, especially in the beginning, that he didn't have a heart and that he was unlovable. Back then I couldn't wrap my head around what he was saying even though I sometimes could see his vulnerability. But now I understand completely why he felt that way. His mother had abandoned him, he was repeatedly abused by her pimp and then Elena brainwashed him.
And now after twenty years, he has found out that he had been living with foster parents for more than two months, something that his mind had completely shut out, probably because of the intensity ant the trauma he had endured.
His carefully build walls where were washed away with the knowledge that something happened all those years ago that he didn't know. He simply had forgotten.
Confusion and loss of control was not something Christian can handle very well. And then the overload of information, hurt and confusion drove him to a panic attack.
I sigh and let my eyes slide over his body. I love him. I love him so much it hurts. Christian is attentive, loving, passionate and intelligent. His passion to save the less fortunate is typically Christian. But then again, he is like Jekyll and Hyde. Two faces. The hard, cold and aloof CEO who demands only perfection from his employees and the warm, thoughtful and caring boyfriend, who will do anything to make me happy.
And I want to make him happy too. I love the feeling of his chest brushing against my breast when we are making love. I love the way our hands fit perfectly together as a perfect puzzle. I love when he wakes up, groggy and with his hair sticking to all places. I love the way he laughs. I even love his futile attempts to tell a joke. I love…everything about him.
I saw how much it hurt him the other day when I said no to move in with him. He tried to hide it, but I saw it in his eyes. Rejection.
Maybe I should give him, us a chance and move in with him. Because deep down I know that he didn't ask me to move in with him to make me his. That was five years ago. He has changed, grown and so have I.
Christian
The images are rushed and blurred. There is a blue house, the big kitchen, the jar with cookies. I feel safe and ...calm but the feeling of calm is quickly replaced by fear. Pushing, someone is pushing me ... someone wants to take my blanket ... it's my blanket. Mine. My mommy gave me the blanket.
Where is mommy?
My car ... no, no, do not steal my car. The boy is much bigger and stronger than I am ... his hands I can see his hands ... his fingernails are dirty and he squeezes my arm ... it hurts, but I can't cry.
Mommy says that boys don't cry and when I cry the man with the cigarette hurts me…don't cry Christian…don't cry…you have to be a good boy for mommy, Christian. Hide in the kitchen and don't cry. I am a good boy, mommy. I will not cry…
He is hurting me; the big boy is hurting me! I bite my lip and try to push him away but my car falls from my hand and then I see the boy trampling it with his foot. No! No! That is my car…my mommy gave me this car. It is my favorite car…my mommy said it was a red car. I think I love red. I love mommy too… The boy has red hair and mean eyes.
The boy laughs…he broke my car. He broke my red car…don't cry, Christian.
"Hi, I am your big brother." The boy says. The boy is big and laughs a lot…he also talks a lot. The lady from the hospital is here too. She smiles at me. She smells good too and her hands are soft and clean.
The boy, I believe his name is Lelliot tells me that we are going to move to a big house with a pool. I don't know what a pool is. And that Grandpa Theo has an orchard full of apples. I like apples.
Lelliot talks and talks and he tells me it is okay that I can't talk because he is going to teach me everything because he is my big brother.
Lelliot and the nice lady have left in a really big car. Lelliot waved until I couldn't see him anymore. Now we are seated at the table and the other lady gave us a really big glass of milk and a cookie. Everyone is making noise…there is so much noise. Then the woman turns around and the big mean boy with the red hair eats my cookie. Don't cry, Christian…don't cry.
"Christian! Christian! Wake up please, Christian." I feel soft hands on my face. I wake with a sob catching in my throat. Ana's face is close to mine and her eyes show relief and worry.
"You were dreaming…" I nod my head once and try to get the fog of that fucking dream to lift up.
"You were talking…" She gives me a little smile that doesn't reach her eyes. She shakes her head and slides her soft hand against the scruff on my face. Slowly the fear I just felt is replaced by warmth and comfort.
"Can you please talk to me?" She says now her eyes pooling with tears.
"Come here." I pull her against me, my hand covering the back of her head, my arms heavy and sore.
"I thought…" She sniffs and turns her face in the crook of my neck. "I thought that something bad was happening to you…"
"I'm sorry that I scared you, Ana." Shaking her head furiously she tries to look at me, but I am not ready yet. I am not ready to open up so I gently push her head back down to the crook of my neck.
"Its okay, Christian. It's okay." She murmurs again and again in my ear.
But it's not okay. I feel it and I know Ana feels it too.
I already knew that fear paralyzes you. However anger, that always fueled me. I used to think anger was an igniting feeling. Now…sitting in the back of the car with Ana's small hand in mine, I don't think it is igniting. Anger is a helpless emotion and it is absence of control. And all of the skills I developed over the years, all of the control, all of the power…I have no use for it. The anger and fear is controlling me. And I hate being out of control.
Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, Ana's eyes glance towards my phone. Where there is another call from my mother. Her concerned eyes dart to me for a brief moment. Sighing she shakes her head and turns her attention back to the passing scenery.
"Maybe you can call John." Ana says softly the moment Taylor maneuvers the car into the underground garage. I hear her, but decide to ignore her.
Ana doesn't let go of my hand and I feel her eyes fixed on me the moment we step into the elevator. Taylor nods his head and then just before the elevator doors close I see his eyes lingering on Ana and giving her a small smile. What the fuck is that all about?
"Shall I fix you something to eat?" Hopeful yet worried eyes glance up at me. She is standing with her hip leaning against the kitchen counter. Her other hand firmly planted on the white marble. Her maroon painted nails a huge contrast against the white marble of the countertop.
"No."
"We still have some leftovers from yesterday." She says now turning away from me and opening the refrigerator. "Or I could make you some Mac and Cheese." She says now giving me a small smile.
In another situation, when I didn't have a panic attack in front of my employees and girlfriend I would have laughed and teased her about how she sucks at making Mac and Cheese. But today I feel like an ass.
"Your Mac and Cheese tastes like shit, Anastasia. Besides I am not hungry." I turn around but not before seeing the hurt flashing in those red rimmed eyes.
"Oh." She whispers sadly..
With purposeful strides I make my way to my bedroom and shed my clothes. I feel her following me into the bedroom and then because I am a major dick I stride towards the bathroom and close the door, deliberately shutting her out.
The hot water doesn't help with expelling the filthiness that I feel. The shame, the humiliation and the fucking nightmares. It doesn't wash away the feeling of worthlessness. My entire life I have been pushed away degraded and abused. But I took back control the moment I started GEH. I proved them all wrong. The boy of Detroit with the whore mother was now a self-made billionaire. I was in control of everything and everyone surrounding me. At least, that's what I thought. This until a woman named Nicole Collins unexpectedly came into my life and told me that she had taken care of me for two and a half months. Two and a half months that I didn't remember. The little boy, who hid in cabinets when his surroundings got too loud, was too traumatized and too fucked up to remember such pivotal event.
And now I am reduced to a pathetic, trembling, worthless piece of shit that even lost fucking control over his bladder. I wet myself in front of my girlfriend and employees. How fucking humiliating.
"Fuck!" I whisper over and over again. Until the tears stuck in the back of my throat are preventing me to breathe.
"Fuck!" I scream over and over again.
Immediately the door flings open. "Christian, what's wrong?"
"Out! Get the fuck out of here, Anastasia! And leave me the fuck alone!" Her hand flies to her mouth and then her head falls down to her chest. But instead of leaving as I asked her, she remains rooted to the spot, her hand still clasped around her mouth.
"Just for once in your life do what I ask you to! Leave me the fuck alone." I yell from the top of my lungs.
Startled she jumps up her eyes wide with shock.
There is shame, there is guilt but I don't move. Not even when Ana slips on the wet floor and falls to the floor. She whimpers as her head hits the tiles while her face morphs into a grimace. Holding back a sob I watch her scrambling from the floor clutching her wrist but not even once does she look back.
With my hands bracing against the shower tiles I let out a roar. "Fuck! Fuck!" I scream until my throat hurts.
Don't cry, Christian…don't fucking cry.
Author's note: Due to the upcoming holidays, I will not be updating for next two weeks. I will see you all on January 3.
Merry Christmas!