CHAPTER 10: A NIGHTMARE

"Miss Steele, are you sure I can't get anything for you? Some tea perhaps?" She shook her head at Presscott. She knew that she made the poor woman run for her life when she fled from the penthouse but she needed to get away from Christian before she could stab him. He made her so mad, with that reaction but also very sad. All this time he kept telling her that she needed to work on her self-esteem and not call herself his whore and for what? To throw that to her face in the first disagreement? She ran to the park close by, walked around until her feet started to hurt, and then sat down on the bench. Poor Presscott had tried to get her something to eat, to drink maybe 5 times but Anastasia didn't feel like eating and drinking.

She didn't understand him at all. He wanted nothing to do with the baby but he still wanted them to have sex. And not just sex! He wanted them to go on dates- even though he refused to call them dates- cuddle, sleep together, eat together, and everything else at the same time ignoring her pregnancy. It was the stupidest idea she ever heard, how did he expect it to work out? She took a few deep breaths. She knew why, though. He was lonely. He would never admit it to himself but he was lonely in his ivory tower and he enjoyed her company solely because he was lonely. She wasn't that naive to think that he wanted her around just for sex. He could get a submissive easily, after all, the kind of sex they have -vanilla- wasn't even his favorite way of doing it. He just wanted her around because he was lonely. She sighed, there was a part of her, who wanted to go and tell him that they could keep going like they had been. But after months of therapy and self-reflection, she knew that she allowed him to treat her like this because deep inside, she thought that it was all she deserved. She knew better now. She still loved him deeply, and she thought she always would, but she was finally accepting that Christian Grey would never love her. And what kind of role model she could be for her baby if she let him walk all over her?

She closed her eyes and tried to slow down her racing heart.

"Where is she?" He asked Taylor after sitting and waiting for hours. He tried to give her some time to cool off but he was getting worried now.

"She's at the park, sir. Presscott said that she walked around for an hour but sat down after some time."

"She's not supposed to tire herself. She needs rest." A disapproving expression passed through Taylor's stoic face before he could blink. "What?!"

"Nothing, sir."

"Tell her to bring Anastasia home. Now." An eyebrow raised, and Taylor looked at him questioningly.

"WHAT?!"

"Sir, Is it wise to bring Miss Steele home by force? She's safe with Presscott, maybe you should give her some space."

"Some space my ass! She's pregnant, she can't go running like that every time!" He was about to shout more as they both heard the elevators ping. Anastasia walked inside, her arms wrapped around herself protectively. She gave a tiny smile to Taylor before he nodded and went back to his quarters.

"You can't walk that much. You need to rest." He said before he could stop himself. He didn't mean to come across this judgemental but there was something in Anastasia that made his most barbaric feelings come up to the surface.

"I need to stay away from stress but that didn't stop you from pissing me off, did it?" She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow before she walked to the kitchen to put the kettle on. She didn't notice how cold she got until she walked inside the warm house.

"Look, I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry."

"Then why did you say it?"

"I don't know. I never see you as a whore, I'm sorry I said it like that, I swear I didn't mean it." His voice was calmer now, and full of remorse. She could see that he meant it but it didn't erase the hurt she felt. She sighed.

"I'm releasing you from that closure in the contract. You can go and be with whoever you want. Just tell me if you are going to get a submissive so I'll move out."

"No, no! I told you I don't want anyone right now. I didn't have another submissive since you left."

"But I think you need it." She saw him flinch like she slapped him again. It made her feel guilty but she just tried to speak gently. "Christian, you are used to getting your frustration, anger, and sadness out from your submissives, in your red room of pain. I don't understand the logic but I can see that it's your coping mechanism. And that's fine. But I feel like now that you don't have a submissive to take your negative feelings out, you are taking them from me. I don't consent to this. I don't want to be your emotional punching bag or wait-in sex toy."

"You took a few therapy sessions and now you are an expert?" His voice was dripping in sarcasm but she knew him well enough to see the pain behind his gray eyes.

"No, of course not. But I can clearly see that you tried to get your anger out from me when you called me a whore. What's going to be next time? Are you going to curse me directly?"

"I'll never do that."

"You say that now. But you lose yourself when you are mad or upset. I repeat I'm not going to be your emotional punching bag. You want a submissive? Get one. You want sex? Go and have some. I don't care. I just need a stable, peaceful environment to go through this pregnancy. It's okay if you don't want to provide that, I can just move out, I don't mind."

"No, no. I don't want you to move out. I wanted you to live with me because I'd be worried. Not because I wanted to have sex, I'm sorry I made you think that." He looked down at the table, his hand rubbing his neck nervously. It was like all the fight left him with a breath and she wanted to pull him into her arms. But she refrained. "I'm sorry again. This type of outburst will not happen again."

She inspected his face, but he looked sincere. She sighed and went to hug him. Feeling some of his tension leave his body he wrapped his arms around her.

"How did you get the contract?" He jumped straight to the point as soon as the waiter left their table. Christian had no patience left for Elena, he accepted her call and invite for lunch with only one aim: to learn how she learned the continents of the contract and why she talked to Elliot. She looked shocked for a minute, obviously not expecting a direct approach.

"I didn't. Grace told me about your decision to be the donor and that you were making sure everything was written down. That's it."

"No, that's not it. I'm not stupid Elena, I know you somehow got the contract and read it. And then proceed to go to my brother in a fake show of worry. I'd like to know why and how. Now." He used his most firm voice with her, to show that he was being serious. He felt very unsettled when a wave of arousal showed on her face. He knew that face and for some reason, he felt very uncomfortable to be the object of her desire.

"How is not important? Why is what I told Elliot? Christian, I'm worried about you! You never answer my calls, and you refuse to meet me anywhere but in your office. Have you become her sub or what?!" He snorted, did she really think that she could bait him like this? Besides, an image of himself leaning down and Anastasia standing in front of him with high heels and black lace with a whip in her hands wasn't as awful as she thought. He tried to focus on the moment.

"Do not talk to anyone about me and Anastasia. This is my last warning to you. What I chose to do with my body and money is none of your business."

"Can't you see, she's turning you into someone you are not, Christian! You should stop this madness before you knock her up. You are not a husband material or a father material."

"That's none of your business but I'm not going to be a father. I'm sure my mother explained this to you." She huffed.

"I'm sure that Anastasia will find a way to get you stuck with the offspring, too."

"She can't and she won't. She's not the devil you make her out to be."

"Oh really? Do you think she'd accept to carry your child if she knew why all your subs look similar? You are not a father material. What were you thinking?! You shouldn't reproduce!"

"Sexual preferences are not hereditary." She smirked.

"Sexual preference? Is it what you call sadism? You are not just a dominant, you are a sadist. BDSM is just your way of keeping it under control. And from what I can understand, you are not doing that now." Anastasia's words of him needing a sub as a coping mechanism flashed through his mind. "What if you snap? What if she drives you to that point?"

"I'd never hurt any woman that way." His voice wasn't as strong as he thought it should be.

"Lincoln would've said the same. But it didn't stop him from putting me in the hospital, did it? Christian..." She reached out and caressed his tightly closed fist on the table. "Dear, you are not supposed to reproduce. Do you really think that you want a child to carry your genes? Really?" She didn't wait for an answer. "There is a reason why none of those shrinks Grace forced you to go didn't work but a few sessions in my playroom did. You are different from them. You need control, you need drawn boundaries and routines. Stop this madness and let her go before you knock her up. Isn't it better to hurt the girls who consent to be hurt instead of her?"

He was so lost to himself, that he didn't become aware of his surroundings until Taylor touched his shoulder in concern when they returned to his office. He didn't have the words to convince him he was okay, he definitely wasn't.

She drew, colors fading out slowly as she tried to find the one she wanted. She wasn't very successful. Anastasia Steele had been coming to the tiny coffee shop close to Escala, at every chance she got. Sometimes she felt like the huge space was suffocating her. Something was wrong with Christian, but he refused to tell her what. He came home one day, his mind somewhere else, it was like he looked at her but didn't see her. She kept asking but he just said that it was about work.

She didn't think it was about work, because he completely pulled himself from her life. They weren't even eating together anymore. They didn't talk apart from an occasional hello, since he worked a lot and was barely at home. She tried to read, even write but sometimes her words got stuck in her mind. Drawing was the only thing that took her mind out of her problems. So she made it a habit to come here, take a tea, and sit down at one of the tiny tables facing the street and draw. Sometimes she draws him, the good memories they have. They didn't have any photos together, putting some of her memories down to paper felt good. Maybe she could show some to her child when they grow up. She smiled as she caressed her stomach. It wasn't noticeable under her clothes but she had a tiny bump. She enjoyed looking at herself in the mirror, her top raised. Sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night, convinced that it was a dream and she was never going to be a mother. Her bump convinced her that she was, in fact, pregnant.

"Is this seat taken?" A hesitant voice asked, she looked up to see a tall woman with jet black hair and tanned skin ask. She said no and invited her to sit down. She was quiet as she sipped her coffee but Anastasia could see her peeping curiously in her notebook from the corner of her eye.

"Are you an artist?" The woman asked, smiling a little. Anastasia smiled back.

"No, no. It's just a hobby for me."

"Oh. But you look like you are very good at it." She blushed a little bit since she never showed anyone but Christian her drawings.

"Thank you." She decided to introduce herself "I'm Anastasia by the way."

"I'm Jean. Nice to meet you." They shook hands as they started to chat about their lives. She was hesitant to exchange numbers since both Christian and Taylor warned her that sometimes journalists tried to look unharmful when they acted like normal people to get you to open up and give them information. She made a mental note to give the number to Sawyer as soon as she could, he was watching her from outside, with strict orders not to bother her when she was out. It felt good, to chat with someone new. The newest person in her life was Christian and his family, she needed some new people. Kate was busy with being a kickass journalist slash wife so they didn't talk as frequently as they used to be. It felt good to get to know someone else.

Jean was 27, slightly older than her. She was married but her husband was a soldier, he was deployed, somewhere else so she got bored staying at home all the time. She was working part-time, remotely, which gave her a lot of free time. Anastasia didn't tell her about pregnancy but she told her that she wasn't working because of some health issues. She tried not to think about her doctor's warning about high blood pressure and the threat to put her on bed rest if she didn't put on the weight she was supposed to do. It wasn't her fault that her first trimester came with a huge morning sickness that made her unable to eat anything even during the day.

"Who was the woman?" was the first thing Sawyer asked when she got in the car. She rolled her eyes since she already planned to ask for a background check.

"Her name is Jean, I'll text you her number for the background check. She seemed genuine but you can never know."

Nightmares started as they were before. He saw himself curled up on the floor, trying to protect his head while his mother's pimp pressed his burning cigarette to his back and chest. He saw himself from outside, and above. Until he looked down and saw that it was his hand holding the cigarette, pressing it to the little boy. He looked to his side, seeing Anastasia on his feet, crying and begging him not to hurt her baby. "Christian, please don't." She cried. She was wearing a dirty dress, her arms full of tiny holes from needles. She was sickeningly thin. "I'm sorry Daddy." The boy on the floor cried and looked up, with Anastasia's blue eyes and his dark brown hair. "Please don't hurt me."

He woke up sometimes screaming his lungs off, sometimes quiet but shivering like crazy. Sometimes freezing, with a cold that made him feel like he swallowed tons of ice. Sometimes sweating buckets. They never stopped. Since his talk with Elena, his mind was on overdrive. Flynn tried to tell him that he wasn't a sadist, he just enjoyed a different lifestyle but he knew better. He knew the thrill he felt when he saw the black and purple asses of his submissives. He knew how he enjoyed it. He tried to search if it was true, that Anastasia's baby would carry this ache for violence and to inflict pain. Some researchers said that it wasn't about the genes, but the environment. People who grew up in houses with abuse tended to be abusers. It wasn't a problem, he knew that Anastasia would never raise a hand to a child. But there were some other researches, that claimed the drive to hurt was hereditary. He felt sick to his stomach anytime he watched Anastasia lovingly caress her little bump. It wasn't very noticeable in her outside clothes since she enjoyed dressing oversize but it was evident when she was in her usual shorts and tank tops. He wanted to rush her to the doctor and force her to get an abortion. Anastasia deserved better. She deserved better to carry a baby with good genes. What if she was carrying a boy? A future pimp? Someone like Christian? Someone who enjoys fucking and beating women who look like their mother? What if she carried a wife-beater and didn't know? He felt so guilty like he made something so sinister and put it into something pure. To contaminate it. To darken it. To harm it. He knew he wouldn't do that, first, he knew how much she already loved the child. His heart wouldn't take it. And second, any decision concerning the baby would be made by Anastasia, he was bound by the contract.

So he tried his best to avoid seeing her. He still got the updates from Sawyer and Taylor. To make sure she was okay. But his stomach couldn't handle seeing her stomach get fuller. He felt like the most horrible person on the planet, for not giving her the full disclosure before making her carry devil's spawn.

His nightmares went overdrive. Sometimes he saw himself killing a very pregnant Anastasia. Sometimes he saw himself beating her so hard that her face was unrecognizable. Sometimes he chased a little boy with a cane or cigarette in his hand, enjoying his cries for help and begging Christian not to hurt him. The picture of the little boy was so clear in his head. He was tiny, with dark bronze hair, and big blue eyes. He called him daddy and begged him not to hurt him. Sometimes Anastasia tried to protect the boy, but he beat her. Sometimes she was in the background, on the floor, or a dirty coach, she was high as a kite and unaware of her surroundings.

The first time Anastasia rushed to his bedroom to wake him up from his nightmare, he nearly pushed her down the bed. He was so mad at her for being a crack whore. Seeing her stunned but still worried face made him rush to the bathroom and spill the contents of his stomach. He told her not to come to his bedroom after that and started to lock his bedroom, despite Taylor begging him not to. He didn't want anyone else to wake him up. He deserved to suffer.

Jason Taylor watched helplessly, as he lost weight. Dark purple spots took their place under his eyes. His absolute avoidance of seeing Anastasia. His screams are heard all around the apartment frequently. He always saw Christian as more than a boss, he just didn't know how to help.

AN: I'm blown away by the number of reviews for the last chapter, you guys can't imagine how happy they made me! Thank you so much!

There is nothing sketchy about Jean, don't worry! I just thought that Ana needed a new friend, the poor girl is lonely.

And things need to get worse for it to get better for Christian, he just needs to see the lowest point, he'll get the wake-up call in the next chapter.

Waiting anxiously to hear your thoughts on this chapter.