Feel your heartbeat

I'll show you

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Ana always hated the taste of cinnamon on her tongue. Whenever her mom baked cinnamon pancakes when she was little, she used to have the urge to throw up after eating even just one bite of the pancake. When she grew older, Ana attempted to eat cinnamon a couple of times. All two times she failed miserably.

Ana tried cinnamon rolls, when she was around twelve years old and a piece of cinnamon cake on her friend's birthday in college. Without her accord those two itty bitty bites ended up in the trashcan as soon as they connected with her taste buds.

So, the last time she tried cinnamon anything was approximately eleven years ago.

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As her eyes fluttered open, the first thing Ana heard was the all familiar sound of a whistle— was it time for tea?

The second thing she noticed was the smell of fresh baked pie? Seriously? Where was she? At her grandmother's? What? Where? Ana couldn't quite place where she was at the moment.

As the wheels in her head started to turn, she recalled bits and pieces of the night before. She remembered being ambushed by those three thugs. Two of them attacked her, while Hyde watched with a satisfied look on his face.

Asshole!

"Tell me where it is?" he growled, not even giving Ana a chance to answer his question. He sure enjoyed seeing her suffer on the gallery's cold floor.

Ana wanted to remember more, however her mind was blocking her from recalling the rest. So, she looked around. The bedroom she was in was oh so unfamiliar.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Anastasia Steele?" were the words that tumbled from her lips.

Her eyes scanned her surroundings till it ended up on her body. She was lying in a small, soft, yet surprisingly very comfortable bed. OK. How did she end up here again? To be honest, she could not for the life of her, remember anything else.

After those thugs had left her for dead, did someone bring her here? She shook her head, and it was then when she noticed that she wasn't wearing her own clothes. What the hell? She furrowed her brows, and began to feel up her own body. OK, on the back of her head she felt a thick bandage. That's one. Her small fingers automatically went to her rib cage... she pulled the over-sized shirt up and saw the bluish/ purplish bruise on her skin. OK, that's two.

Then her eyes darted towards her right thigh. Damn! That one still hurts like a motherfucker! That's the third one. Her whole thigh was covered with a wide, thick bandage.

'So, am I able to walk on it?' She wondered, and pulled the over-sized shirt down, covering up her body. As a sigh escaped her lips, Ana placed her hand on her mouth and felt that her lips were swollen. OK, that doesn't count.

She was an independent young woman, always had been since she was 21, so at the moment she felt what she hated the most in her life; feeling powerless. She couldn't even get up and stand on her own two feet, let alone walk out this bedroom. As she attempted to push her tears back, Ana thought about her situation. So someone did get her out of the ditch she was in, and had brought her here and had taken care of her.

That someone must be a very kind person to do that, considering she was a total stranger to the person. Apart from that, the person had cleaned her body, and changed her clothes. She remembered clearly that she was wearing a black pair of jeans, a pink blouse, and a black leather jacket the night before. And here she was in this white over-sized shirt.