Chapter 15
Plight
Sorry for posting late. This chapter was ready to be posted yesterday but I did not have time to do it. I would like to thank my temporary beta Milizau for beta reading this chapter. Thanks for all the follows, favorites, and reviews.
Anastasia
Sometimes you only learn the true meaning behind words if you have lived through them. It is a cold fact of life that I only recently came to understand. It is surprising to realize how much we crave a sense of normality and routine, no matter how fucked up that new normality is. What is normal anyway? I suppose it is completely dependent on your point of view, and right now my point of view has been lifted and tilted on its axes. It has been four days since I first set foot in this luxury prison but it feels like an eternity ago. It is the routine I reckon; it makes time go faster.
And you know what is really fucked up about this entire situation? I can deal with the spanking. The bruises heal and the pain is fleeting. But it is his elaborate aftercare and genuine concern for my wellbeing after the act that is messing with my mind. It is the same with the sex. I could have dealt with it all if he was just getting his rocks off and left me alone. I would have found refuge in the far corner of my mind that is my safe haven. But he never lets me. My body has become nothing but a mere slave to his. Every time he makes me come and wields my body to his will my mind slowly breaks a little. I console myself that this will all be over in six short months and I will be once again master of my own fate instead of a slave to his. I cannot help but wonder what will be left of me by then. Intuitively I know the answer to that question and it is frightening but crystal clear. I cannot remain here with him. Not if I want to hold on to my sanity, dignity, and identity. But where will I go? And will he let me?
I stare out the window. Dawn is rising in the east, chasing away the darkness of the night. But the warm healing rays of the sun can't chase away the darkness he left inside of me four days ago. I have hardly been able to sleep ever since. Every morning I wake up at five hoping that it was all a bad dream. But then I feel him wrapped around me like vines around a tree and I know that it is all real. I sigh and pick up the book that is laying hapless on the arm of my large plush chair. Normally books give me a sense comfort. They provide a refuge if you will to another reality. But here in this vast and stunning private library, that sense of comfort is nowhere to be found even though I am surrounded by one of the biggest collections of books I have ever seen.
A soft knock on the library door pulls me out of my solitary reverie.
'Miss Ana, it is time for you to dress. Breakfast will be served soon.' Catherina's soft spoken voice sounds clearly through the room. She has been my shadow since I got here, following me everywhere. She is friendly enough but I know she is just her to check up on me.
I sigh and put the book back in the bookstand and dutifully follow her upstairs.
'I can dress myself, Catherina. Mr. Grey has already put out my clothes.' I try to say politely but I fail. This whole business with dressing is utterly ridiculous I am not some helpless maiden stuck in the 17th century.
'Mr. Grey said that I should help you.' She interjects.
'I have been dressing myself since I was four. I'll think I'll manage.' I snap irritated. She looks shocked for a moment and is about to protest again. 'I will call you when I am ready for my hair and makeup.' I quickly say to soften the blow. She closes her mouth again and nods at me.
'Ok, Miss Ana. I will be waiting for you outside.' She acquiesces.
I quickly enter the bedroom. The bed has already been made and that asshole is nowhere to be found. I am glad for it. Like every day since I got here my clothes, panties and shoes are already laid out for me. Apparently, it matters a lot to him what I wear.
I quickly dress myself. Studying the black and white shift dress before pulling it over my head. I must admit the dress is beautiful. I put on the matching white heels and call Catherina back in.
I sit down in front of the makeup table and she gets to work.
She smiles at me.
'Done. You look lovely, Miss Ana. You must go downstairs now since Mr. Grey hates it when you are late for breakfast.' She says slightly apologetically.
'No, we shouldn't. Lord forbids he has to wait for more than a minute.' I mutter sarcastically.
I enter the dining room and he is already waiting at the table. He eyes me critically and dismisses Catherina.
'This dress really suits you. Mrs. Acton, my personal shopper has done me proud. You look lovely, Anastasia.' He says and pulls out a chair for me.
'Thank you.' I remembering his reprimand when I failed to thank him two days ago. I am in no mood to repeat that painful episode.
The butler serves our breakfast and quickly scurries off. We eat in silence for a while. Slowly the anxiety creeps back and I find it hard to eat. I need to know if he is keeping me prisoner or not. Thus far I haven't been able to go where I want without someone following me. I guess I need to know if there is a way out of this all.
'Master can I ask you something.' I begin tentatively. He lifts his brow and nods.
'What is that you want to know, Anastasia?'
Ok, well there is no way around this best be to the point.
'Am I a prisoner here?' My voice is soft and I am shaking a little fearing his reaction.
He looks at me like I have grown two heads. He puts down his cutlery and wipes his mouth with a napkin.
'What do you mean a prisoner? Are you asking me if you can go wherever you want? Well then the answer is no, not without security.' He replies pointedly.
'So I am a prisoner.' I mutter softly.
'No Anastasia you're not.' He snaps. 'You choose to be here. You signed the contract. I don't know why it is so hard for you to understand this. If you feel like you are unable to fulfill this contract let me know and I will have Taylor extradite you back home. Where you will face several criminal charges. One way or another you will be paying me back. It is really not hard to understand. And I am frankly tired of this discussion so for one last time. Do you agree that stealing and committing fraud is wrong and criminal?' he snaps irritated.
I feel sick. I know where he is going with this I am so angry with myself for putting myself in this position.
'Well?' He barks impatiently.
'Yes.' I finally murmur.
'Yes, what?' He sneers.
'Yes, master.' I quickly amend.
'And do you agree. That a person who commits a crime should be punished?'
'Yes.' My voice is hoarse and my mouth is dry.
'It was you that signed the contract and chose for the alternative punishment I afford you. Stop acting like an innocent blameless victim because you are far from one. And this is the last thing I will ever say about this subject.' He says with finality.
I feel the anger rise again. Choice my ass!
'You didn't give me a choice! You threatened me. You told me that even when I choose jail you would still come after me! You raped and assaulted me before I even signed your damn contract!' I am shaking with righteous indignation. He is spinning and manipulating everything so he can act like I choose all this.
'First off your tone. DON'T. YOU. DARE. EVER. SPEAKING to me like THAT again. Do you understand?' He bellows his face is taut, red and angry and a vein is throbbing on his forehead. He is scary, really scary and I cower a little.
'Yes, master.' I reply quickly not wanting to set him of further fearing what he might do when really pushed. This man is unstable.
'I didn't threaten you. I merely pointed out the consequences of each choice you were presented with. I punished you before the contract that is true. I will never deny that but you brought that on yourself. If you hadn't kicked me we could have discussed it all in a civil manner. And since you signed the contract anyway this entire point is mood. Consider it giving permission retroactively.' He says dismissively and I know I will get no further with him.
I decide to drop the subject as it is pointless discussing it further with him. He will only turn it around so that I am solely to blame. I realize more than ever that I need to get myself out of this situation. I just have no idea how.
We continue to eat, the silence in the room has become oppressive. He scrapes his throat and looks at me.
'Tomorrow is the conference in Rome. I expect you the assist me in all things. And today at eleven we will be flying to the isle of Lampedusa where the refugee reception center is located. Cardinal Bianchi will accompany us. I expect you to honor the terms of our agreement without question. Give me your word. If you show me you can be trusted I will let go of security a little. Consider it an olive branch.' He states calmly.
This might be my chance. I could run and hide until I find a way to pay him back. Right? This has to work.
'I gave you my word.' I hastily reply.
He stares at me his eyes narrowed and discerning.
'Don't disappoint me, Anastasia.' He says sternly and gets up from the table in a gracious move.
'I won't master.' I mumble in reply to placate him.
'Good. Finish your breakfast and you can go with Catherina again. Just make sure you are ready to leave at 11 sharp. Is that understood?'
'Yes, Master.' I dutifully reply hating myself for being his docile little puppy.
I finish my breakfast and get up from my chair. Catherina is already waiting for me at the door leading up to the hallway.
'What would you like to do miss Ana?'
I shrug. I was thinking of going back to the library and spend my time with a book. She showed me most of the house and the grounds yesterday. It really is an impressive estate. It has its own olive and vineyards that stretch for miles but somehow their natural beauty seems lost on me right now.
'I think I will visit the library again.' I make my way towards the library but stop mid stride. The delicious smells of fresh baked bread and roasted meat fill my nostrils. And it occurs to me that Catherina never showed me the kitchen.
'Catherina, can you show me where the kitchen is? You never showed it to during our tour of the house.'
She smiles at me a little sheepishly.
'The kitchen is Norma's domain. She doesn't like anyone in there.'
'I love cooking and I would really like to see the kitchen and meet Norma. Maybe she has some tips for me.'
She looks a little indecisive for a moment and I pounce on her again.
'Mr. Grey told me I could see the entire house. The kitchen is part of the house. I promise I won't touch anything. I'd just like to see it.'
She sighs.
'Ok, I guess it is alright.'
The kitchen is conveniently located near the dining room only a level lower. I nearly faint when I see the kitchen. It is a huge country styled kitchen with an u shaped counter, two large stoves and an isle in the middle. A stocky, middle-aged woman is chopping and slicing at the counter.
Catherina speaks to her in rapid Italian and I cannot understand what they are saying. Norma moves her attention from Catherina to me and eyes me up and down assessing me.
'Buongiorno signorina.' She says not unkindly and continues slicing the vegetables.
'Buongiorno.' I reply back curious at what she is making. Norma does not speak a word of English so Catherina has to talk to us. Turns out that Norma is making Osso Bucco and fresh pasta for tonight's dinner and I am completely intrigued. I always wanted to learn how to make fresh pasta but my attempts at it thus far have failed.
I ask Norma if she could teach me how to make homemade pasta but Catherina is hesitant to translate. She wrings her hands in a nervous manner and avoids looking at me.
'Mr. Grey does not want you to do any work. He is worried your clothes might get dirty.' She says softly.
I feel the heat rise in my face. No,I won't let him take one of the only forms of entertainment I have in this place. He has taken to much from me already.
'Mr. Grey isn't here and I can wear a shirt to prevent my clothes from getting dirty. I want to learn how to make pasta. Ask her please, Catherina.'
Catherina nods and begrudgingly asks Norma. The elder woman immediately nods and points to the spot next to her.
'I think she likes you.' Catherina says, sounding a little relieved.
Norma works fast and effective but somehow she is a great teacher. In no time I have learned how to make pasta dough and how to roll it out without tearing it. For a brief moment, I don't have to think about the shitty situation I am in.
'Miss Ana we need to leave. It is almost eleven.'
I sigh and put down the kitchen cutlery. I don't want to go. Slowly I follow Catherina out of the kitchen back to the hallway.
'Where have you been?' 'Master' barks.
'I, I was in the kitchen.' I stammer, not understanding what set him off this time.
He eyes me critically and holds out his hand for me to take it.
'I want you to have this.' He hands me a blue jewelry box. Great another expensive trinket. I feel cheap and dirty every time he gives me something.
'Open it.' He commands brusquely.
I open the box and stare at the beautiful delicate platinum watch that is laying inside.
'I want you to wear this every day so you can be on time. I hate it when people are late.'
'Thank you, Master. It is a very thoughtful present.' I try my best to keep the sarcasm out of my voice but I don't think I succeeded. Thankfully he doesn't seem to have heard it or maybe he does not care right now.
'Here. Let me put in on.' He takes out the watch and puts it on my left wrists.
'There you go. Only the finest platinum and diamonds are good enough to grace your lovely skin, Anastasia.' He says solemnly and kisses my hand.
'Now we need to go or we will be late.'
The same black car as yesterday is waiting to bring us to the airport again. The flight to Lampedusa, an isle in the Mediterranean near the boot of the Italian mainland, takes almost three hours. 'Master' explains to me that Cardinal Bianchi is already there and will pick us up from the airport. The large GEH jet is only carrying myself, Master and some of his ever-present security guys. It is pretty wasteful especially for a guy who is claiming to fight pollution and climate change.
I stare out the window and watch the clouds glide by. I remember when I was a child I always wondered if you could sit on them and float away with the wind. The plane shakes a little and I feel queasy. I clutch the arms of my seat and close my eyes hoping that it will be over soon.
'Turbulence. Just relax it will be over soon.' 'Master' says soothingly. He is right. Moments later everything returns to normal and the plane glides effortlessly through the sky.
'Anastasia, when we are in the company of the good cardinal you will address me as Christian. Is that understood?'
What? Why? I want to ask but I know not to. I feel uncomfortable calling him by his given name. It makes it all so intimate and personal and I desperately need to keep my distance from him. I need to devise a way to separate or compartmentalize the things that he does to me or I will go mad.
'Yes, Master.'
He nods at me and continues reading whatever it is he is reading while I continue to stare out the window. The seatbelt lights go on notifying us that we will land soon. He gets up from his chairs and buckles me in tightly. The smell of his cologne and body wash invading my nostrils and I hate myself for enjoying the way he smells.
With a loud thud, the plane lands on the Lampedusa airstrip. Three large SUV's are waiting for us on the tarmac. Cardinal Bianchi is standing next to one of them and greets us smiling.
'Mr. Grey, Miss Steele how lovely to see you both again.'
'Cardinal.' 'Master' says and shakes his hand.
'We will first visit the Saint Mary Magdalene asylum. It is a refuge for women who have fallen to human trafficking and exploitation. After that, we continue our journey to the refuge center. The church is actively involved in both. We have a moral duty to help those in need.' The cardinal looks solemn and pained as he speaks.
'Master' helps me into the car and soon we drive off to our destination. The streets are narrow and everywhere I look I see both commercial and residential buildings built in a typical colorful Mediterranean fashion. It is not what I expected. I always thought that not many were living on this isle.
The cars continue to the light traffic and I am surprised to see several provocatively dressed women sitting on plastic chairs in the burning sun at the side of the road.
'They are prostitutes.' The cardinal answers my unspoken question.
'Most of them are lured here mainly from Nigeria. They are promised good jobs and housing. But once they make the dangerous crossing from the Mediterranean sea they are forced to work in prostitution to pay back the human traffickers. Some of the women have to pay back more than $50,000 us dollars to the traffickers.'
'How horrible.' I whisper.
'Volunteers of Saint Mary try to help these women as best as they can.' He explains further. The car stops in front of an impressive sandstone building.
'Welcome to Saint Mary.' The cardinal says and gives us a wry smile.
Gray marble tiles and stark white walls dominate the decor of Saint Mary's. A crucifix hangs on the wall above the door leading into the main room. A woman in a long blue skirt and white blouse greets us warmly when we enter.
She introduces herself as sister Mary Frances head of the saint Mary of Magdalene asylum. She explains to us that the asylum is a safe haven for women that want to get out of the prostitution.
'Many people look down on these women. Judging them and humiliating them. But our god lord said; Who is without sin cast the first stone. Our heavenly father expects no less from us than to help these poor souls without prejudice or reservation. After all, one of his most devout disciples was Mary Magdalene who was once a prostitute herself. Everyone can be redeemed in the eyes of our good lord. Sometimes all people need is a little nudge to steer them to the right path.' Sister Mary Frances says with a nod.
'Master' looks skeptical, tense and uncomfortable.
'That is all very nice, sister Mary. But once these women are, as you just put it, redeemed. What happens to them? Redemption does not put food on the table at the end of the day. What does your organization really do to help these women long term?' 'Master' says sardonically
Sister Mary Frances smiles serenely at him.
'You are right Mr. Grey. Redemption alone is not enough. We educate these women, teach them a profession and help them set up business in their country of origin using micro credits. You see, Mr. Grey, the good book also says; The lord helps those who help themselves. It is a two-way street.' She answers gracefully and the bastard is stumped for a moment.
'Has there been any research done to establish how successful these women are with their businesses once they are back in their own country?' 'Master' says clearly not willing to concede yet.
'Yes, there has been.' The cardinal jumps in. 'About 95% of the women that leave saint Mary are successful in creating a new life for themselves with a reasonable income. Our biggest problem is that we do not have enough beds or funds to accommodate the large streams of women that need our help. '
'I see.' He mutters 'I think my company can help with that.' They start their discussion and I zone out drawn in by a little boy sitting stock still in the large flowery garden of the asylum. The boy looks so sad and lonely. I recognize the pain etched on his face. It is the same pain I see when I look in the mirror.
I move towards him and sit down in front of him but he barely registers my presence. He is lost in his own world.
He has a small blue car in his hand that he is driving up and down his leg.
'Hi, I am Ana. What is your name?' I say pointing at myself. He looks at me briefly for a moment his beautiful dark brown eyes look hollow and empty. The look in them is familiar for some reason but I cannot place it. The car slips out of his hand and falls on the ground with a loud metallic thud. I bent down to grab it to give it back to him not realizing he is doing the same thing. Our arms touch and he flinch away from me, huddling into a corner. He is hyperventilating in the verge of a panic attack I have no idea what to do.
Sister Mary Frances comes running towards us with 'Master' and the cardinal in tow.
'I just wanted to give him back his car.' I mumble apologetically. Sister Mary Frances gives me a sympathetic smile before she hurriedly moves to the little boy. 'Master' takes the car from me and walks over to where Mary Frances and the little boy are. Mary Frances is trying to calm him but it doesn't seem to work.
'Master' sits down on his knees softly talks to the boy. I cannot hear what he is saying but it seems to be working. He hands him the car and lifts him up into his arms holding him tenderly. A wave of conflicting emotions hits me. How can be so cruel to me but so kind to the little boy? It is like he is two completely different people; a Dr. Jekyll and a Mr. Hyde all rolled into one.
'I am sorry, Miss Steele. I should have told you about our little Thomas. He does not like to be touched. He has had a terrible past. His mother was killed by her pimp while he was in the other room. He must have heard everything. He will be adopted soon by a lovely young couple. I can only hope the damage that is done to him can be healed.' She says with a sigh.
'Master's' face is a mixture of pain and anger. He is cradling Thomas and softly sings to him. Absently I notice that he has a lovely singing voice. The whole thing feels surreal and confusing. This is how he draws people in, Ana, so he can manipulate them later. A small voice hisses in the back of my mind.
'Have they ever caught the bastard that killed his mother?' 'Masters' voice is strained and cold.
'Yes. He is currently serving life in prison.' Sister Mary Frances answers.
'Good. No child should ever be without his mother.' The tone of his voice is distant and strained. Like he is giving some deep confessional. For a moment he seems vulnerable and I hate it. It is much easier to hate him when he is acting like the bastard he really is.
It is almost two hours later when we finally leave saint Mary's and make our way to the refugee center. Thousands of immigrants mostly from Africa are packed together behind high fences. It is a depressing sorrowful sight that will be burned in my mind forever. The Cardinal and 'Master' also talk with the local people whose daily lives have completely turned upside down since the crisis started. Our visit here is shorter and I feel a sense of relief when we make our way back to the airport and say goodbye to the cardinal.
'Master' is quiet and contemplative when we fly back and I am glad for it. I don't have the energy to process all that has happened today. I want to go home, to mom and Ray and forget about everything that has happened over the last four days.
After dinner the delicious pasta and Osso Bucco Norma prepared, I expect another 'session' with him again. It has become routine after dinner. I breathe a sigh of relief when he tells me that he needs to work. I spend my time playing some cards with Catherina and watching TV. Before I go to bed grateful that he is still in is his office.
Soft melancholic notes of a piano echo through the large empty house stirring me from my sleep. The sound is eerie; almost inhuman. I get out of bed and walk downstairs to the sunroom where the piano is. There is a solitary light on illuminating just the piano and its player. It is such a lonely sight. The music stops and he turns around his eyes are intense and blazing under the light.
'I don't appreciate you sneaking up on me, Miss Steele.' He snaps.
'I am sorry, Master.'
'Why are you up? Did I wake you?'
'Yes, Master I was just curious where the music came from.'
He sighs and pulls the lid down on the piano.
'I am sorry I woke you. Now go back to bed we need to get up early tomorrow. Come let me take you.'
He takes my hand and leads me back upstairs and tucks me in.
'Sleep.' He orders and leaves again minutes later I can hear the faint notes of the piano echoing through the house again ,and I slowly drown in the sadness of the song. The darkness he planted in me is expanding. Tomorrow when we are at the Vatican I will make a run for it. I need to save myself before his darkness takes me to the abyss and never lets me leave again. I have some euros in my wallet courtesy of mom. I hope it is enough to buy me a ticket and get out of the country. I only need my passport. It is in his safe in his office. I saw it when he took me from behind over his desk. I quickly suppress the memory before I break down again.
I get out of the bed again and sneak inside his office. Silently praying that I won't get caught. A lamp is still burning on his desk. I remove the painting that is covering the safe. Shit, what now? I need a code to get in. I try some random combinations but the safe won't open. Maybe he has written it down somewhere? I rummage through the drawers trying to make as little sound as possible.
I hear footsteps in the hallway and my stomach plummets. I have no idea what he will do to me when he finds me here but I know for sure it won't be good. I quickly put back the painting and crawl under his desk.
The door opens and I hear footsteps enter the room. My heart is pounding in my chest, my lips are dry and I feel the blood rushing in my ears. The footsteps are closer and I close my eyes praying that they go away.
I don't know how much time passes I am too scared to move or even breathe. Finally, the sound of footsteps fill the room again and the door of the office closes. I am still too scared to move. What if they come back? My legs begin to hurt from being crawled up on the cold hard marble floor and my feet are freezing. I crawl out under the desk and knock my head. The pain is instant and skull splitting. Tears spring to my eyes and I let out a yelp. A long stick that was leaning against the desk falls on the ground. I stand frozen praying that nobody is coming back in here again.
Time passes and I hear nothing. I breathe a sigh of relief. I grab the square stick and examine it closely, idly wondering what it's for. There are numbers carved in the side of it and it dawns on me it's the code to the safe.
I can hardly suppress the sense of elation and relief I feel. What idiot carves his safe code out for all to see? I quickly open the safe and it is stacked with hundred euro bills and all of our passports. I take mine out but refuse to take any of his money. That is what landed me in this trouble the first time.
I quickly close it up and hang the painting back. Moving as quietly as I can back to the still empty bedroom. Hope blooms in my chest. Soon I will be free of him. But what about your parents? What if he goes after them? You still owe him money, Ana. The small voice is nagging in the back of my mind. For now, I ignore her. I will cross that bridge when I come to it.
The conference hall is buzzing with excitement. Clergy, policy makers, politicians, and humanitarians are all anxiously waiting for the conference to start. 'Master' will give the opening speech after his meeting with the pope is over.
Members of his security staff are constantly watching me so it is hard to disappear in the crowd and make a run for it. I couldn't even go to the restroom alone. Prescott the only female in his team escorted me like I was a small child.
I am seated at the front of the stage with some other important people. A lady who appears to be in her early 40s strikes up a conversation with me. She is a human rights lawyer working for amnesty international.
'Oh, so you are Mr. Grey's assistant! Can I just say how much I admire your boss? He is not only handsome but such a good caring man. He donated more to foreign aid than some countries?'
I want to yell and scream at her. Tell her what a sociopath he really is but I refrain. I smile at her and tell her I didn't know. Idly hoping that my short answer is enough to shut her up.
She rambles on about what a saint he is asking me if I can introduce him to her. I politely tell her that I see what I can do.
The buzzing in the hall dials down and I see Taylor in the corner of my eye. He is Mr. Greys shadow so I know that he is here.
A plump man with a shiny bald head climbs on stage.
'Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the Vatican's first ever conference on social, economic and environmental issues. It is our duty as decent human beings to take care of those that are less fortunate. Our honored guest speaker is an extremely successful entrepreneur, Carnegie medallist, humanitarian and environmentalist deeply committed to rid the world of hunger and poverty. Please give a warm round of applause for Mr. Christian Grey.' Baldy finishes his speech and the entire conference hall bursts out in cheers and applause. But I remain silent.
With easy grace, Christian climbs on the stage. He is copper hair is highlighted on the harsh glare of the lights. He looks stern and dignified in his charcoal suit. He takes out a piece of paper from his inner pocket and puts it on the speaker stand.
'Thank you, Father, for that very kind introduction.' He begins nodding at the bald guy. 'Yesterday I was on the isle of Lampedusa and visited a sanctuary for women that had been victims of human trafficking. I sat there with a little boy named Thomas who had lost his mother to her exploiters. He was scared and deeply traumatized and I knew exactly how he felt. I too lost my biological mother at a young age. When we look at the statistics of people that are being trafficked, forced into prostitution or forced to leave their homes in search for a better life, we see nothing but cold hard numbers. Just like Thomas' mother, my biological mother too was just another statistic. It is easy to have an opinion and make policy about various social issues simply based on calculus. Numbers are after all factual and rational and create a safe distance between you and the issue you make policy for. But after every number, there is a story of a real human being like you and me, who has suffered horrors and hardship most of us cannot imagine.
Nobody really wants to leave their home, life or friends behind to go on a dangerous journey to another country that does not really want to have them. Hunger, poverty, violence, and war create complete and total societal destruction, forcing people to abandon everything and everyone they know just to get a shot at a better life. Right now as I stand here before you more than 40 forgotten conflicts are destroying the lives of countless people around the globe while the world stays silent and the crisis's remain.
We need to take out the root of this problem and the endless wars and strives destabilizing these regions.
In the past decades, we have given large sums of money to developing countries with very little result. Corrupt governments pocketed the money while the little men and women in the street starve to death. A wise nun told me yesterday; The good lord helps those who help themselves. Give the local people small loans, education, resources and tools to set up there on businesses to stimulate the economy instead of giving money to their governments. Hunt down and punish those who have committed war crimes and incite violence. In the end, it is the common folk who create the fabric of stabile societies and our commitment should be with them.
I hope this conference will be fruitful and bring about real change in the lives of millions of people. I humbly thank the Vatican for giving me the opportunity to speak about these subjects that are so close to my heart. Since we are in the Vatican that has been built on the ruins of the eternal city, I will leave you now with a quote from the famous Roman historian Marcus Tullius Cicero. Non nobis solum nati sumus. Thank you all.' He ends his speech and the crowd erupts into a deafening applause. But I hardly hear it. My mind is jumbled and hazy. His real mother died when he was as old as Thomas? His mother was a statistic? What does he mean by that? Is his mother dying the reason why he is fucked up? Or why he was so sad and distant yesterday? So many questions and no answers at all. But does it really matter how or why he is like he is? All I know is that I cannot stay with him. Not if I want to keep my own identity or sanity for that matter. The applause dies down and the crowds disperse to the various workshops, debates, and lectures that have been organized. I can't see any of the security guys and I know this is my chance to run. I quickly get up and mingle with the crowd and frantically search for the nearest exit. The crowds grows, thinner in the hallway and it becomes harder to blend in. I see security guys talking on their earpieces while their eyes search the crowd. Fear crawls in my gut and I walk faster. I don't want to think about Grey will do when he catches me again. I bolt for the door leading to the exit and I see men coming after me.
I am in full panic mode and sprint over Saint Peter square to the Via Della Conciliazione where I hope to hail a cab. My heart is pounding in my chest and fear and exhilaration curse through my veins.
I hear them call my name in the distance but I ignore them. Thankfully a cab stops in front of me and I quickly get in.
'The airport please.' I quickly say. I am out of breath and suddenly I feel bone tired. I close my eyes for a moment and the taxi begins the ride. When I open them again I can just make out the face of a furious looking Sawyer who is standing dejectedly on the sidewalk.
I made it! I am finally free! Is all I can think about right now until slowly realization sets in. What have I done?! I am a fugitive now I am sure they have already notified the authorities about my crimes. What about my parents? What will he do with them? A pit forms in my stomach and I feel sick. Maybe this wasn't a smart choice at all. Maybe I can go back and apologize to him. Tell him that it was a lapse in judgment and let him dish out any punishment he wants. I quickly dismiss the idea. NO Ana you ran to save yourself don't look back but think about a solution. Ok, I need to get his money back $435,000 dollars. How am I going to get that amount of money? I could rob a bank. Ugh, what a stupid idea Ana pay a crime with a crime… That is not going to work. Ok, I can sell the Audi it is a start right.. or the workshop and the rest well maybe I could sell my body to men… No, Ana, that is no different from what Grey asked from you. You left because you wanted to keep your dignity and identity remember?
I am pulled out of my inner struggle by the voice of the cab driver informing me that I have arrived at the airport. I quickly pay and thank him before climbing out of the car. I have no luggage because all my belongings are still at the Villa. I enter the airport hall but before I could get another step in I am blocked by the colossal body of Taylor.
'Miss Steele, come with me, please. Quietly we don't want to make a scene. That would be embarrassing for the both of us.' He says with a deceptively soft voice. And for the umpteenth time in a short while my world shatters into a million pieces again.
How the hell did he know where I was and how did he get here so fast? I feel weak in the knees and faint. This is it. No matter how this will pan out my life will be changed forever. They will either extradite me back to the US and I will be spending a minimum of 10 years in prison or he will send me back to Grey again. I am really stuck. This is my fate no matter how much I struggle I will never be able to change it. I feel tired and empty completely void of all emotions and dutifully follow Taylor outside.
'Don't think about running it will only make things harder for you.' He says when he stops in front of a large black SUV.
'Get in.' He commands.
I climb into the car and the door shuts with a bang.
'You gave me quite the workout.' Sawyer says jokingly startling me.
'Don't look so surprised I couldn't let T get you alone I was supposed to watch you. I must say you run impressively fast on those heels.'
Taylor gets in the car and drives away.
'Where are you taking me?' I ask fearfully.
'Back to the Villa. Mr. Grey has no time to watch you run amok when he is trying to save the world.' Taylor answers gruffly. Apart of me is relieved that I am not thrown in jail.. yet.
'Why are you doing this? Have you any idea what your boss is doing to me?'
Sawyer shrugs disinterested.
'Whatever is going on between you and the big boss is non off my business. As far as I am concerned Grey is a saint and that is all I am going to say about it.' He says dismissively.
'Pretty much the same for me. You signed his kinky contract willingly. You knew it was either that or jail. To me, you are a thief that treated one of the greatest men I know like a pile of shit. You never even gave him a chance instead you believed some random crap that people posted on the internet.' He is quiet for a moment before he continues speaking. 'Eight years ago my wife left me and our little girl suddenly without notice. She just vanished. My daughter, Sophie, was devastated she cried for days and kept asking me when mommy would be getting home. She was only three years old and I had no idea what to tell her. Turned out Linda was a gambling addict she used every penny we had to fuel her addiction and once there was no more money left she left for greener pastures. Leaving me and Sophie to fend for ourselves.
Creditors kept calling asking for their money. I had to sell our house, our, furniture and even an antique gold pocket watch my grandfather gave me just before he passed away. To top this shit pile up I lost my job and Sophie and I ended up living in my car. It was in the dead of winter with sub-zero temperatures. I had no money for gas and barely any money for food. Every day I looked for jobs but no one was hiring because of the bad economy. If I was lucky I could work as a day laborer at the market. One day in January Sophie got ill it started with a nasty cough and before I knew it she had a raging fever. I went to the shop with what little money I had to buy some medicine and food. I took Sophie with me I couldn't leave her alone in the car. When I got to the cash register I didn't have enough money to pay for my stuff. I was desperate I needed to take care of Sophie. Out of nowhere this guy who was standing behind me pays for everything.
I turned around and thanked promising that I would pay him back but he didn't want to hear any of that. He gave me his card and told me that if I ever needed anything I should give him a call. That guy was Mr. Grey I was about to walk out of the store when my little girl staggered and collapsed and stopped breathing. For the first time in my life, I completely lost it. Mr. Grey came running towards us and stayed calm and collected the whole time. He ordered someone to call an ambulance and administered CPR. He saved Sophie's life. It turned out that she had severe pneumonia. I had no health insurance and no money to cover her medical bills. Then I remembered his card and his offer to help me. I gave him a call and 5 minutes later I had a job, house and premium health insurance. In a blink of an eye, he turned my life around and saved not only my daughter be me as well. He didn't know me and he didn't have to help me but he did without expecting anything in return. Everyone working for him personally has a similar story. He is a good man miss Steele damaged but in essence one of the best men I have ever had the privilege to know.' Taylor says earnestly and I am for once I don't know what to say or think.
'Listen miss Steele I know that he can be a real bastard at times. But in the end, he means well. If you want my advice? Do what he asks of you and stop fighting him. You are only working yourself up for nothing. All he wants is for you to honor his contract like he has done. If you do so you will see how much more agreeable he becomes.' Taylor says with an air of finality and I know the conversation is over.
Maybe he is right what is the point of fighting it all I always end up losing anyway. I remember something my grandmother once told me. She said that no one was born bad. Sometimes good people to bad stuff but that does not make them bad. She said Annie love the sinner but hate his sin. I know I could never do that. Not after everything he did to me. I don't think I could ever forgive him. But maybe he is not completely evil? Maybe I can hold on to myself if I focus on the positive instead of the negative.
Ray got his surgery and mom is out of legal hot water because of him. I guess I can hold on to that for six months. I can do this for them. I just pray it is enough to not break me apart beyond repair...
Non nobis solum nati sumus. Translates into. Not for ourselves alone are we born
