Fifty Shades: Submission and Strength

Chapter 17

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just wanted to offer a few insights into Ana's head. Hope it makes sense!

Ana was holed up in Christian's library in the makeshift office he'd set up for her, staring at the shiny new laptop he had lent her (only after a morning blowup about the exact definition of "lend" versus "give"). She was polishing her paper on the military implications of Turkey's NATO membership, but her mind was busy analyzing another unconventional arrangement — one fraught with even more dangers: Her "relationship" with Christian.

It was Sunday and in return for Ana breaking the rules of her contract, she agreed to spend another night at Christian's penthouse if he agreed to give her time during the day to finish her schoolwork.

Only she had finished her work hours ago. Instead of venturing back out to find Christian, however, she found herself stuck in his vast library, which was lined with so many books that she doubted he even knew what was in his pricey collection.

Normally, her weekend routine was laid out for her: breakfast, a few hours in the playroom and then home. No fuss, no muss.

But after their long outing on Saturday, Christian bombarded her with even more elaborate ideas for spending the day together Sunday, from soaring on his glider to dinner atop Seattle's Space Needle. What's with him and heights anyway? He even lives in a castle in the sky.

Not that flying and five-course meals didn't sound appealing to Ana, but his grandiose talk was throwing her well-ordered existence into disarray. She couldn't ignore the nagging suspicion that Christian had the wrong girl in mind for his lavish lifestyle.

I can do BDSM, but not big boats and brie. Why is he wasting all this energy on me? Surely he can find some sophisticated CEO-type who fits into his world and appreciates it more than I do. Not that I'm complaining — who would bitch about spending the day aboard a yacht? — but why start to develop a taste for the finer things in life when you won't ever be able to afford them? A girl could get used to this — but that doesn't mean she SHOULD get used to this.

Not wanting to trample his spirits, though, Ana gladly agreed to spend the night with him but demanded some alone time during the day to process her predicament.

Europe's NATO obligations to Turkey if it were attacked by the Islamic State? That's an easy one. My response to Christian's attempts to wine and dine his submissive? That's the real conundrum! If only real life were as simple as hypothetical military confrontations.

Ana sighed, gazing out the window. It wasn't just his fancy plans and her deeply embedded fear of relationships that were eating away at her. It was the fact that even though it was a gorgeous, sun-drenched day, all she wanted to do was lie in bed and pull the covers over her head.

She recognized these days — days when, for some inexplicable reason, she just felt down. Only before I never had to EXPLAIN these days to anyone else. I know my moods naturally go up and down, but my baseline seems to be a lot lower than other people's. I know when the depression creeps in. There's usually no reason for it. It's not as if I didn't have an absolutely wonderful time with Christian yesterday. I should be ecstatic, but I'm not. I'm not anything today. This apathetic shit just randomly strikes me. It's like waking up to a huge zit in the middle of your forehead. You can't predict it. You just deal with it and move on. I don't cry or yell or stop showering like some people in the throes of depression. I don't even cut my skin open any more. I just don't do anything other than work and sleep — with the occasional sex thrown in. That's what depression is like for me: doing the bare minimum to skate by life. At least I haven't give up on it altogether though. That's why school is so important to me — along with being able to stand on my own two feet. It gives my lackluster life some purpose — a reason to get up every morning and at least accomplish something. I don't aspire to change the world. I aspire to get through the day. I aspire to numb the pain. The meds take the edge off, but they don't completely dull it.

Ana knitted her brows together, her finger tracing the outline of the keyboard. No, I can't really describe it as pain. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't feel like anything. I'm not even sad. I'm just indifferent. Nothing and no one interests me when I get into these moods. And for years, like the masochist that I am, I used to beat myself up over these self-induced funks, trying to force myself to snap out of them. I used to be so angry at myself for not being able to control my own moods. It was like I was being held hostage by some invisible force in my brain. Why was I so weak? Why couldn't I just MAKE myself be happy like everyone else? But then I remembered what that one high school guidance counselor told me. Out of all the quacks I saw, Mr. Harper gave me the only piece of advice that ever made any sense. He told me that it's OK to be depressed every once in a while. He told me to stop giving myself grief over how I feel and just accept it.

Ana snorted.

What an epiphany. Why are the simplest things in life usually the hardest for us to grasp? Ever since then, I learned to accept that I'll have my good days and my bad days. Like all things, it will pass. But it's one thing for me to accept my demons — it's quite another to force them onto someone as giving and selfless as Christian. It's not fair to subject him to my misery when all he wants to do is make me happy. He deserves so much better than that.

Ana slouched back in the leather chair, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. It was so much easier when a Dom didn't expect anything from me but my submission. When he just told me what to eat and what position he wanted me in — just like my professors tell me what to study and write about — and no one expects me to have an actual opinion. Fucking is so much easier than feeling.

As if his ears were burning, Christian knocked on the door before peeking inside.

"All done?" he said hopefully.

"Yep. All done," she lied, closing his laptop. I never even started. "I'm all yours. Thanks for letting me borrow your laptop."

Christian rolled his eyes. If by 'borrow' you mean it's yours to keep forever, then yes, I let you borrow it.

"Now that you're done with your homework, did you want to do something? It's a nice day. Did you want to go outside? Maybe we could go biking?" Not that I've ridden a bike since I was 9, but I want to prove to you that our relationship isn't confined to the playroom, especially after my little caveman-like display yesterday.

"You bike?"

"Yes." No.

"Ummm, I haven't really ridden a bike in, well, ever, to be honest. I don't really do much outdoors other than, errr, walk I guess." And that's mostly because I don't have a car, or a bike for that matter. Ana began to twist her fingers. "Sorry — not very adventurous I know." She gave him a nervous laugh.

Christian walked over and sat down on the couch beside Ana, reaching over to untangle her fingers. "Don't apologize. We can do whatever you want. What do you usually do in your free time?"

Ana shrugged. "Besides work, not much." I told you there's not much to me. You just refuse to believe it.

"What would you normally do on a Sunday night?" he pressed, undeterred.

Ana shrugged again, doing her best impression of an insolent teenager.

"You're not trying to renege on our agreement are you?"

"No of course not! I'm not trying to go home tonight. It's just that," she hedged, taking a big gulp of air. "I don't really do much on my off time. Sometimes I just like to pull the covers over my head and drown out the world around me. Other times, I veg on the sofa and watch something trashy on TV. I like to zone out and decompress, which is a fancy way of saying I like to be lazy and take afternoon naps I suppose."

Thank God. Because I don't know shit about riding a bike.

Christian clasped her hand and helped Ana to her feet.

"Where are we going?"

"To my media room to watch TV and take a nap. It's about time it got some use."