This is a mini-chapter that I decided to release separate from any other content. It definitely contains some serious stuff about the root of Ana's breakdown during the photography shoot. I am releasing this separately for anyone who feels it may be triggering and wants to skip the whole chapter entirely – hence the shortened length. If you decide to skip this chapter, you will still be able to follow along with the rest of the story.

With Christmas next week, I am not entirely sure what my posting schedule will be. I would like to release at least one more chapter before New Year's.

I want to say that I am REALLY impressed at a few of you who have guessed correctly about some of the upcoming storyline. You know who you are (wink, wink!)

**Trigger Warning**

This chapter contains a graphic description of child sexual abuse. I will put a trigger warning at the beginning and end of the description, but please skip ahead if this is triggering for you. It is always my intent to mark any potentially triggering passages.

Chapter 12

The Third Husband

Ellen sits quietly with her hands in her lap. She waits for me to answer her question. I. Don't. Want. To.

It is 3 o'clock on Sunday afternoon. After answering my emergency page, my therapist agreed to meet with me for an unscheduled session. I imagine Christian pacing back and forth in her lobby as Ellen and I work to unravel my epic, bigger than Britney Spears shaving her head meltdown.

"I'm sorry, could you ask me that again?" I say, stalling for time.

"Ana, tell me what it felt like to be tied up and blindfolded." This woman has the patience of Job.

"At first, it was fun, exciting. I couldn't see or move so when I felt the feather run across my skin, it was like a hundred feathers were touching me. Everything was heightened. My skin was on fire, in a good way," I reply, quieter than my usual pitch.

"So, what changed?"

"I dunno," I lie. I completely know.

"Walk me through what you were feeling. At some point it sounds like things went from feeling good to being terrifying."

I nod, feeling tears brim. I will not cry.

"Ana, have you ever felt scared like this before?"

I nod again. A tear rolls down my cheek. Guess I'm going to cry.

"I know that remembering things from the past can be painful, but can you tell me about the other times you felt this scared?"

"Once," I reply.

"You felt like this just once before, Ana? When was that?"

I want to tell my therapist everything, but I cannot speak the words. I have never, ever told anyone what happened. Not my mother, not Ray, not Kate. I have locked that night away in the darkest, deadest part of my heart. I feel my breathing start to hasten. I begin to feel dizzy. Crap on a cracker, here comes another panic attack.

"Ana, Ana, what's going through your mind? Ellen gently probes. Sensing my distress, she asks, "Do you want Christian to join us? Would that make you feel safer?" I nod yes, and Ellen steps out to the lobby to get him.

Nestled in Christian's arms on Ellen's couch, I am finally ready to say my truth out loud for the first time. I take a deep breath and open the most blackened part of my soul.

I talk about how hard it was for me to leave Ray when Carla married Stephen Morton. She and I moved to Texas to live with her new husband. At first, Stephen was neither nice nor mean to me. He was just indifferent to my being there. I spent most of my time in my room, reading my books and escaping into the lives of the characters. Carla was so ga-ga for her new husband that she didn't notice my absence.

**Beginning of Trigger Warning**

My discomfort grew slowly. Stephen would stare at me for just a moment too long. He would run his hand down my hair in a way that felt too familiar. The more uncomfortable I became, the more I tried to find places to disappear. My mother seemed really happy. I didn't want to complain about feeling uncomfortable. Maybe it was all in my head?

One day, Carla was at the grocery store. I was tucked away, reading in my favorite spot under the stairs. I could hear Stephen calling for me from the living room, but I kept quiet. Maybe he would think that I went with my mother. Only, he knew that I had stayed home. He must have watched carefully as Carla left. He had been waiting. Waiting to get me alone.

I began to tremble as his calls became more agitated. I could hear his boots walking through the house looking for me. At some point, he had to have realized that I was intentionally hiding from him. I used my cell phone to call Ray, but I was too scared to say anything when he answered. I didn't want Stephen to find me.

Ray knew something was wrong. Even though I didn't speak, he just knew. He knew this wasn't an accidental pocket dial. He told me to stay quiet and that he was going to call the police to come help me. Ray was still in Montesano, hundreds of miles away. I never hung up the phone. It fell from my hand when Stephen yanked me out of my hiding spot. I screamed as loud as I could hoping that would make the police come faster.

Stephen had this crazy look in his eyes. It was like the more I screamed and fought him, the more turned on he was getting. I was 12 years old, but I knew. When I saw the way he licked his lips, I knew what he wanted to do to me.

He dragged me into to dining room. He held me against the wall as he unbuttoned my jeans and pushed them down. I cried and screamed. I fucking begged that son-of-a-bitch to stop. His eyes gleamed with something evil. I was so fucking terrified.

He backhanded me across my cheek with one hand while I heard him unzip his own pants with the other. He slammed my head into the table when he bent me over. Blood trickled down into my eyes, stealing my sight. He held my hands behind my back. I crossed my ankles together as tightly as I could while holding my body as straight as a 12 year old could against a full-grown beast. This was my last hope at preventing him from getting what he wanted.

Frustrated at my resistance, I heard him pull his belt off. I heard the jingle of the buckle as he began to beat me bare upper legs. He whipped me over and over attempting to make me uncross me legs, but I refused. I screamed in pain as my skin first welted and then broke as he lashed me again and again. I couldn't see. I couldn't move. All I could do was keep my ankles locked tightly together, hoping that someone, anyone was coming to rescue me.

Just as I began to lose consciousness, I heard the police banging at the front door. With every muscle in my body, I managed one last scream that would lead the officers to kicking down the door. The last noise I heard was the jingle of the belt buckle hitting the floor when Stephen dropped it to flee out the back door.

When the police broke the door down, they found an unconscious girl, bloodied and beaten, naked from the waist down lying on the dining room floor. Her ankles were still crossed tightly. I had fought just long enough for help to arrive.

**End of Trigger Warning**

I finish my story to a silent audience. When Christian kisses my temple, I feel the moisture from his own cheek. We sit huddled together as our tears co-mingle. I feel exhausted, I feel bare, but most of all, I feel safe.