My Blackberry buzzes. I see that it's Elena calling and I answer it.

"Christian, I'm just checking in, how are you feeling?" I can hear her kids playing in the background.

"Better than this morning. Thanks for coming over and sending John Flynn. He's given me a great deal to think about," I sigh.

"Have there been developments since we met?"

"Not yet but I miss her something furious," I reply. Each time I have to say it out loud, I think my chest is going to explode from the pressure.

"What did Dr. Flynn advise?"

"Anastasia left because she perceives the lifestyle as abusive even though it is not. I'm considering giving it up or at least aspects of it to keep her in my life. John thinks you being my ex further complicates my relationship with Anastasia."

"Oh," she sounds taken aback, "Are you willing to give up a lifestyle that identifies you, that fulfils your needs more than any other. I guess if she thinks the lifestyle is abusive, when you get back together she won't want you and me to be close. Meeting up every week and family gatherings could become awkward for her. Some people deal with personal insecurities by distrusting or not liking the ex."

"I need to do this. I've never felt this way about anyone else. She's the one."

"If you get back together today, tomorrow or soon after, the fundamental changes you want to make to your life to enable your relationship to Anastasia to succeed is moving a super fast pace. You only met three weeks ago, goodness at this rate you could be married and father within a year of meeting," Elena laughed sarcastically.

"Anastasia, comes before anyone else. No doubt Diana, is a great person, but she could never be what Anastasia is to me," I'm exasperated, "I just want this pain on the inside to stop, you know?"

"Experiencing fear, pain, helplessness, first as a child orphaned at a young age then in my first marriage has made me value happiness, friendship, family, affection, pleasure even more. If I never experienced those things, I would not appreciate the courage it must take for you to sacrifice what you going to sacrifice to get Anastasia back. Rather than catching up once a week like we do, the accountant will forward on the reports for Escala, we could cancel your attending the annual school performance and I could send plausible RSVPs for family gatherings so you form new memories with Anastasia."

"You'd do that?"

"If Anastasia thinks the lifestyle is abusive and outs me to people we know, my ex husband who has not yet gotten over being cuckolded by a teenager will follow through on the promise to kill me. The kids are six years old, I may not be a perfect mother but they need me. Anyway if our lifestyle comes out, it will affect the perfect public image you've spent years building."

"That's so like you, being detached, being practical and imagining the worst case scenario."

"I was born under an unlucky star, look at me, my life is a series of worst case scenarios," her face takes on a far away expression. "Innovations in your businesses are breathtaking because you seek perfection, variety and change. You've had fifteen subs in six years, each relationship had fiery intensity but burnt out too soon. Are you sure that a vanilla relationship will work for you?"

"Yes."

"Personally, I'm not convinced but you could surprise me. Maybe you should take this break up period to explore your wants and needs."

I know my mind, but Elena's insight is as thought provoking as Dr. Flynn although they both come at my conundrum differently.

"I'll think over what you've said."

"Only you can decide the direction of your life."

"Good bye, Elena."

I need a drink.

~~~

Do I really want to be my old self again? Or do I want to try for a whole new me, one that just might be acceptable to Anastasia? That is the question I think about as I put together the model of the Blanik L23 during Saturday afternoon.

I have the music from my iPod set on shuffle as I work, and today so many tracks seem to hold a message for me. The Morgan Taylor Reid track 'Where Do I Even Start?' The Script 'Breakeven'. 'Iris' by The Goo Goo Dolls. And then the Michael Buble track – 'You'll Never Find Another love Like Mine.' I guess emotional turmoil helps people write great music tracks.

It's no mean feat putting the small pieces of the model together but that's good, because it means I have to concentrate. I want to get it right, firstly because I am a perfectionist, and secondly because it is a precious gift from Anastasia to me. A reminder of a happy time. I have her note propped up on my desk.

This reminded me of a happy time.

Thank you.

Ana

Other than college football when I protected the quarterback with my life, I'm usually a lone wolf, confirmed only too painfully on the rowing team at Harvard, where I soon ended up rowing solo after fighting over strategy with the other team members. But it was fun for me when I shared the glider flight with Ana, rather than going solo.

Sharing. What's the point of everything I have, all the money and possessions, if I don't have someone special to share them with? Someone deserving, like Anastasia. Priceless works of art hang on my walls. I have my own helicopter and private jet. Sports cars. A Penthouse suite here in Seattle, homes in New York and Aspen.

And yet this little model glider that cost a few dollars means the more to me, because the person who gave it to me loves me. Once I completed the assembly, I set it onto the circular stand and left it on my desk in pride of place to admire. I love it.

I want to email her to say thank you, and start another witty exchange, but her MacBook is here in front of me. I miss hearing her sense of humor, but she might not yet be ready to hear from me. Maybe it is too late for us to try again, even if John thinks a compromise could give us a chance. On the other hand Elena might be right to be sceptical about my having walking away from the lifestyle. I would feel like cheating to meet with Diana the prospective sub. I just can't do it.

Then I hear Ana's Blackberry buzz, and when I look, I see she has a new text message. I'm guessing she's forgotten that all her calls and messages are being forwarded to this phone. She is pretty hopeless about things like that.

I look to see who the message is from. Kate.

Having gr8 time here. Hope ur OK. Don't let obscenely rich bastard grind u down. Give him swift kick in nuts from me if he is. Kate.

Typical Kate. I think she would give me more than a swift kick in the nuts if she knew about the flagellation I gave Ana in my playroom last night. It's alright, Kate, Ana ripped out my heart instead.

I wonder how long it will be before Ana realizes she's not getting any calls or messages through. Well, until she does, I can monitor them. Her phone is nearly dead, so I put it on charge.

The surveillance team have sat outside her apartment all day, and report that no one has been in or out at all. I begin to worry and order them to find some pretext to get her to come to the door, to make sure nothing has happened to her. They report back that they got her to come to the door by pretending to have a delivery for her, and that she gave them short shrift when it was the wrong address. I can't see her very well in the footage they took, but it looks like she's in her old PJ's, and at least she seems okay. Good.

Gail serves me a smoked fish platter with mustard-caper sauce and fennel-cucumber salad for dinner. I have no appetite, but I eat because no one knows more than me the value of food and the gnawing pains of hunger.

"Thank you Gail I think you should go home, it has been a rather eventful couple of days," I skate around the scare she had from Leila then this morning from me. "I'll put these in the dish washer after I'm done. I'm staying home this evening and having an early night."

"Yes, Mr. Grey," she says giving me an worried look.

"I'll be fine."

Taylor is in his office as usual. I saw him adjusting the angles of some of the CCTV cameras earlier, under the pretext of 'regular maintenance'. I suspect he is trying to monitor me more closely. Back to DEFCON1 it is then.

Back in my study, I see there is a mountain of work that has built up when I check my laptop. A few emails can be dealt with quickly. I delegate some to Ros. She's more than capable of dealing with them – she is my second in command after all.

Anything relating to the takeover of SIP I handle personally. Whatever happens between Anastasia and I, our lives were set on a collision path way before we met.

Kismet.

~~~

I put off going to bed as long as possible, knowing that my bed is going to seem empty. I go into Anastasia's room, and lie down on the bed we shared last night. I bury my nose in her pillow to try and catch the last remnants of her special sweet scent. I stopped Gail from changing the bedding in here just in time earlier today. I wonder if she thinks I'm losing my mind.

The tube of arnica and plastic container of advil are right where I left them, on the night stand by the bed. I feel better for giving Anastasia the tablets and massaging the soothing arnica gel into her firm derrière, knowing that the pain I inflicted subsided.

She was cold and distant as she walked out. Not wanting to touch me. Anastasia had shut me out of her life, or protecting herself as she argued. If I held her in my arms one more time, she could have come round, and we could have talked through the differences. Right now though, it's over. I can't hold her again unless I can change. Unless I can turn away from the lifestyle that defines me and turn away from Elena the person to whom I owe my success. And I'm not sure that is even possible.

I found Anastasia's bathrobe earlier, and I'm hugging it to my body so I can breathe in her scent. The best scent in the whole world. Anastasia.

I'm going to miss the great sex, more than that, I'm going to miss sleeping next to Anastasia and waking up next to her. Ironic really, with my nightmares, I found it impossible to share a bed with anyone else so I slept alone. It came as a real shock for me to discover that I always sleep far better with Anastasia next to me.

Maybe it's because I'm really tired, not having slept at all last night, or maybe it's the calming effect Anastasia's scent has on me, I fall into a deep sleep in her bed. For a few blissful hours, I escape from turbulent emotions.

Suddenly...

I pull on the monster pimp's trouser leg to distract him from hurting mommy with his belt. There was no dinner when he got home tonight. Mommy's so sad she cried all day and drunk everything in the bottle. She's just lying there glassy eyed not fending off any of his blows. If he hurts mommy too bad, she can't work. If mommy can't work, we both get hit more.

"You think you can take me, you little bastard? I show you who is the man around here you good for nothing pest. Come here, it'll be worse for you if I have to drag you from that chair."

The belt dangles menacingly in his hand. His favourite tan leather belt with the faded brass buckle. That buckle cuts my skin sometimes. The alcohol mommy uses to clean the cuts hurts like a swarm of bees stinging me at the same time. When he hits me, I escape beyond the four walls of the cold, damp apartment we call home. My mind goes to a place far, far away, that has blazing hot sun, simmering blue sea and has the most elegant pink birds I ever did see. My enchanted place.

He drags me out from under the bed by my legs. I don't make a sound. I'm wearing a pair of dirty, worn out and torn faded blue jeans I have been wearing since I was two years old. I am underage for a four year old toddler.

He lies me down on my stomach and I soon hear the whistling sound of the leather belt in the air and the crack as it lands heavily on my bare back, buttocks, legs and feet. He lands painful blows on my back with the belt and as he does so, the stench of cheap alcohol and tobacco drifts up to my nostrils.

When the pimp's breathing hard like he is worn out hitting mommy and I, he sits on the bed, his heavy workman booted leg keeps me pinned on the floor.

I hear him strike up a match, light up a cigarette, take a long deep drag and blow out towards me. I cough and splatter as he laughs.

I wait there knowing he is not yet finished with me. He smokes his cigarette, for a few minutes then turns me over onto my back. There's nothing I can do when he brings the glowing end of his cigarette butt towards me. He stubs it out on my chest, laughing as my voice cries out and the smell of burning flesh brings me out of my safe place, far away with the pink birds that float on water.

I turn to see mommy but she's on the floor, stretched out. Her eyes remain glazed over. She's asleep with her eyes open. After he is finished with me, he will be too tired to hit mommy. I'll put the blanket on her so she can be warm and work tomorrow. I don't like hiding and being in the cupboard when mommy works but they are not supposed to see me or mommy will be in trouble. This pain is unbearable...

I wake up drenched in sweat, woken by my own screaming.

I reach over to Anastasia's side of the bed, but of course she's not there. I try desperately to smell her on the pillow, but I can't find her scent any more, it seems to have been drowned in my sweat. The pain from my nightmare transposes with the loss of Anastasia in my life.

I sob into the pillow, but no tears come. I feel helpless like in the nightmare.

And it hits me, the belt I instinctively chose to hit Anastasia was the same as the one in my nightmare, the belt he beat me with.

I was a child when he hit me, I didn't know about the lifestyle and I felt the terror in one's final moments in this life. I was never able to go back to that place until Elena took me there with controlled and safe flagellation. I was obsessed with Elena at the time and the lifestyle became the most erotic and cathartic experience. If Anastasia did not trust me in the Red Room, it's possible she felt the same terror I did as a child.

That could explain her complete withdrawal of affection from me. Elena is right about the need for communication. Anastasia and I have got to sort this out

My sick shit is even worse than I'd realized. This is wrong. This has to stop. Flynn is right. This cycle of violence and abuse has to end. Somehow I have to find the strength to fight my addiction to inflicting painful punishments, just as an alcoholic has to fight his addiction to drink. And I have to hope and pray that I can somehow convince Anastasia to forgive me and give me another chance.

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