The Proposition

The Propostion

Fiddling with the hem of my shirt, I stared at her—Mrs. Christian Grey.  Ana.

It seemed impossible that she’d made it past the hospital’s overzealous security detail, but when I saw Taylor watching us from the nurse’s station, it all made sense.

Christian Grey might own the security guards who kept me locked inside this metal facility as well as the doctors whose job it was to keep me sedated and unaware, but he’d never owned Taylor. Not really. Taylor had his reasons for remaining in Christian’s employ, and I suspected a lot of them had to do with amassing enough money to take his family and disappear when the time came. I couldn’t blame him for that. If I could have, I would have vanished long ago.

Ana cleared her throat. “Leila?”

Her tone of voice reminded me of  someone trying to calm a feral dog. I turned my head, meeting her gaze, and she startled as if she’d expected me to bite.

“What do you want, Ana?”

“May I sit?”

“Do what you want. Your husband’s money paid for this ridiculously ostentatious visiting area.” It was impossible to keep the resentment from my voice.

She sighed. “Gifts are the best way of assuaging guilt. I’m pretty sure that’s rule number seventy-eight in the Christian Grey Handbook. “

I looked at her more closely. There were huge circles under her eyes, and her skin was sallow and hung off her bones like dirty rags. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and it seemed to take all the energy she had—the wedding ring on her finger seemingly too heavy to lift. But a shackle like that probably weighed more each day she wore it.

“You look good,” she murmured. “Much better than the last time I saw you.”

I was sure I did. The last time, I’d been drugged out of my head and just this side of a psychotic break. These days, the staff trusted me enough to take my meds on my own—which, of course, meant I didn’t. I had enough tranquilizers stashed to bring down a herd of elephants. And I’d gotten really good at faking catatonic behavior when I needed to.

Thankfully, Christian’s monitoring of this wing of the hospital was half-assed at best. Just like everything else he’d lost interest in over the years. The only thing he seemed perpetually invested in was self-serving manipulation and breaking people. But everyone needed a hobby I suppose.

Instead of responding to her observation, I said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s a bit of a surprise to see you here. Is there something you wanted?”

She looked around furtively.

“For fuck’s sake,” I said evenly, with a smile that belied my annoyance, “if you’re trying to be secretive, please don’t look like you’re trying to be secretive. You’ll only call attention to both of us. And I don’t need that.” More gently, I added, “I’m guessing you don’t, either.”

She shook her head. “I have a proposition for you.”

A nurse walked by, and I let my eyes shift out of focus a bit until he’d passed.

I was immediately leery but also undeniably curious. Curiosity was what had gotten me involved with Christian in the first place. That and overwhelmingly low self-esteem. “What kind of proposition?”

Ana looked me dead in the eyes. “I have a packet of documents for you—new birth certificate, driver’s license, passport, ten million dollars, and a ticket to wherever you want to go.”

My heart leapt at the thought of finally being out from under Christian’s thumb. Even though I was pretty sure I knew what the answer was going to be, I asked, “What do I need to do to get this?”

“Kill Christian.”

50 Shades of Grey and its sequels depict an emotionally abusive relationship. These are stories that glorify stalking, verbal and physical abuse, manipulation and attempt to pass it off as romance. If you’d like further information, please visit: http://jennytrout.com/?p=3007