Bleed

Chapter 11: Consider this

Wednesday night/Thursday morning.

'What do we do now?'

Ana knew that she was the one who asked, because Kate – staring at her as if she was from another planet - was the one who answered.

'We go to the police, of course.'

'Yes,' Ana murmured, while escaping Kate's laser-like gaze. Kate must have been too keyed up to take in the content of Ana's response, because she immediately flew off the handle.

'How much creepier does he have to get?' she demanded with trembling voice. 'He's stalking you. He broke in. I'm worried about you, Ana, but I live here too. What if I'd run into him? What if he decides that we're too close or that I'm keeping you from him? Enough is enough. We're calling the police, okay? I'm calling the police.'

'I wasn't arguing against it, Kate. I agree,' Ana replied, drained. All the fight suddenly having left her, Kate turned away then and Elliot went to her. He was in the middle of wrapping her into a comforting hug when the relative quiet of the night was broken again by another sound: a loud bang nearby. What now? Ana thought; weary. The three of them glanced at each other.

'I'm gonna check that out,' Elliot stated. Kate gave him a quick kiss and cautioned him to be careful. He went outside to investigate and came back appearing oddly satisfied.

'He crashed his car,' he answered the women's questioning looks.

'It's still there?' Kate asked. Elliot nodded.

'Is he still there?' she followed up. Elliot shrugged.

'Okay, we're calling the police right now, right?' Kate decided while simultaneously confirming that they were alright with that, which was so unlike Kate that Ana had to smile. Elliot smiled too, but his smile quickly faded.

'Are you okay?' he inquired of Ana. 'You're shaking.'

It was true. She was shaking all over.

'I need a moment to myself,' she said. Surreptitiously, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and retreated into the bathroom. She put down the lid of the toilet and sat down. One deep sigh later, Christian picked up.

'Anastasia,' he said. He sounded out of breath.

'Where are you?' she asked.

'With you.'

Ana closed her eyes and resisted the urge to peek behind the shower curtain. He was not in here with her. He was not.

'I am always with you,' he added.

'Why are you doing this?' she demanded. Even to her own ears, she sounded wonderfully calm. That was how she wanted it. She didn't want him to know how rattled she was.

'Doing, what?' he requested. Ana shook her head at his feigned ignorance and remained silent.

'I'm glad you called me,' Christian went on. 'We need to talk about the wedding.'

'What wedding?' Ana snapped. For the first time during their conversation, he seemed to be caught off guard. That, in turn, appeared to irritate him.

'Our wedding.'

'I don't want to marry you,' she pointed out.

'Let's not talk about technicalities,' Christian suggested, dismissive as ever. Did he just say that what I want is a technicality? Ana marvelled. Yes. Yes, he did. Christian continued into her baffled silence.

'Don't you see that it would be the perfect solution for this situation? It would solve everything. I would know that you'd never leave me again.'

'But I have left already,' Ana carefully reminded him.

'Which you could only do because we were not married.'

'That's not… No.'

'Don't overthink this, Ana. I've already told everyone about our engagement. Mia is thrilled.'

'I'm sure she is,' Ana sarcastically replied. 'But I haven't agreed to marry you.'

'Not yet, no,' he reluctantly admitted. 'That, however, is merely a formality at this point. I've set a wedding date and have managed to arrange everything, though it has been trying without your input. I wish you'd stop being difficult. All I need now is for you to say yes.'

Her consent was not even a technicality anymore - which had been infuriating - but a formality – which was scary. Did he really think, after all of this, that she was going to say yes?

'I do not want to be in a relationship with you,' she spelled out while seriously questioning the wisdom of attempting to reason with him. 'I want someone who's whole. And you don't want to do the work to heal yourself and become whole. You expect me to do that for you. Well, that's unrealistic and, honestly, a burden. I shouldn't be responsible for fixing you. I'm not your keeper. That's not my job. You're in charge of yourself.'

'I do want to do the work,' he protested. 'I've been having sessions with Flynn for years!'

'Yes, and you've made no progress, because fundamentally you don't really want to change. You think that it's up to others to change,' she explained. She felt close to tears and almost whispered: 'Why couldn't you love me for who I am? Like I loved you.' Except, she corrected herself, hadn't she wanted to change him too?

She sighed and rubbed her face. This was futile. Engaging him with logic was a waste of time. Ignoring her stiff limbs, she got to her feet and ended the call with these words:

'Consider this goodbye.'