Freed: Fifty Shades Freed as told by Christian

Chapter 245

“She went back into the house, leaving me in the backyard. She acted as if nothing had happened. I

was at a total loss.” I wanted to rub one out right there. But, of course, I couldn’t. “So I went back to

work, loading the rubble into the dumpster. When I left that evening, she asked me to come back the

next day. She didn’t mention what had happened. The next day I went back. I couldn’t wait to see her

again.” I’m whispering, as if I were in the confessional. “She didn’t touch me when she kissed me.” Only

my face, where she grabbed me. It was a revelation.

I turn to face Ana. “You have to understand—my life was hell on earth. I was a walking hard-on, fifteen

years old, tall for my age, hormones raging. The girls at school—” This content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

They were interested.

And so was I…but I couldn’t bear to be touched.

I fought everyone off.

And pushed everyone away with my rage.

“I was angry, so fucking angry at everyone, at myself, my folks. I had no friends. My therapist at the

time was a total asshole. My folks, they kept me on a tight leash; they didn’t understand.” I gaze at the

ceiling, thinking how solicitous Carrick and Grace had been this evening.

“I just couldn’t bear anyone touching me. I couldn’t. Couldn’t bear anyone near me. I used to fight.

Fuck, did I fight. I got into some godawful brawls. I was expelled from a couple of schools. But it was a

way to let off steam. To tolerate some kind of physical contact.” I clench my fists, remembering one

particular brawl.

Wilde. That asshole. Picking on smaller kids.

“Well, you get the idea. And when she kissed me, she only grabbed my face. She didn’t touch me.”

It was such a relief.

To finally experience that kind of contact.

And it was so fucking exciting.

My life changed in that moment.

Everything changed.

“Well, the next day I went back to the house, not knowing what to expect. And I’ll spare you the gory

details, but there was more of the same.”

I could whip a savage like you into shape. Elena’s drawl echoes in my mind.

Savage? She knows!

She sees me.

The bad seed.

“And that’s how our relationship started.” Shaking off the memory, I turn to face Ana once more. “And

you know something, Ana? My world came into focus. Sharp and clear. Everything. It was exactly what

I needed. She was a breath of fresh air. Making the decisions, taking all that shit away from me, letting

me breathe. And even when it was over, my world stayed in focus, because of her. And it stayed that

way…until I met you.” Suddenly a flood of emotion wells inside me, almost engulfing me.

Ana.

My love.

Reaching up, I smooth a stray tendril of her hair behind her ear, because I want—no, need—to touch

her. “You turned my world on its head.” Suddenly, I see her pale, sad face, leaving me as the elevator

doors close. “My world was ordered, calm, and controlled, then you came into my life with your smart

mouth, your innocence, your beauty, and your quiet temerity and everything before you was just dull,

empty, mediocre. It was nothing.”

Ana sucks in a breath.

“I fell in love,” I whisper, and strum my knuckles across her cheek.

“So did I,” she responds, and I feel her breath on my face.

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

You’re still here with me, listening to this sorry, disturbing story. You saved me.

Her face breaks into a shy smile. “Finally,” she murmurs.

“And it’s put everything into perspective for me. When I was younger, Elena was the center of my

world. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. And she did a lot for me. She stopped my drinking.

Made me work hard at school. You know, she gave me a coping mechanism I hadn’t had before,

allowed me to experience things that I never thought I could.”

“Touch,” Ana asks.

“After a fashion.”

Ana’s brows pucker together, and her eyes are full of new questions. I have no choice but to tell her. “If

you grow up with a wholly negative self-image, thinking you’re some kind of reject, an unlovable

savage, you think you deserve to be beaten.” I pause, gauging her reaction. “Ana, it’s much easier to

wear your pain on the outside.”

It’s much harder on the inside.

I don’t dwell on that thought. “She channeled my anger. Mostly inward—I realize that now. Dr. Flynn’s

been on and on about this, for some time. It was only recently that I saw our relationship for what it

was. You know, on my birthday.”

Ana grimaces.

“For her that side of our relationship was about sex and control, and a lonely woman finding some kind

of comfort with her boy toy.”

“But you like control,” she says.

“Yes. I do. I always will, Ana. It’s who I am. I surrendered it for a brief while. Let someone make all my

decisions for me. I couldn’t do it myself—I wasn’t in a fit state. But through my submission to her, I

found myself, and found the strength to take charge of my life. Take control and make my own

decisions.”

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