Fifty Shades Different

Fifty Shades Damaged.. ?

Chapter One

The name could eventually change, I'm not quite sure how I feel about it yet. The next chapter, depending on how long it takes me to find a new photo editing website because Picmonkey isn't working for me right now, but the next chapter should be in a separate book. I will add the url to a separate chapter here once it's published for it to be easier, or maybe in the comments. 

It was three weeks ago that Christian's father was shot during the gauntlet, Christian has barely spoken to me at all since the day of the funeral. I spend all of my time after work in the library and he in his study, I try to give him as much space as I can, I don't come out of the library until it's time for dinner and bed. He still lets me sleep in his bed with him, I believe it's more for his benefit than mine. He doesn't speak to me at work anymore unless he has too, he makes me wonder if he's angry with me, but I know in the back of my head that's just a me problem.

Today was a little different, instead of Mrs. Jones coming to inform me that dinner was ready he did. When he came in he didn't speak, he simply sat across from me, he put a desk in the library so I could do my homework and all. I finished up what I was typing and I looked up at him, these past few weeks his beautiful grey eyes always hold the same heartbreaking confusion.

"Hey," I whispered, "How was your day Christian?"

I pretended to continue on to another task to hold him there, so maybe he might actually be in the mood to talk tonight. He simply shrugged his shoulders, not offering any information, I know he doesn't want to talk, I didn't either when Ray died. I can't help thinking though that if I had perhaps things may had been easier for me, but I don't want him to snap at me either.

"I wanted to talk to you about the shooter." He said staring down at his hands, I put my notebook down instantly, giving him my complete and undivided attention. "Did you recognize the man at all?"

I shook my head.

"They haven't gotten anything out of him at all?" I ask completely flabbergasted, "How? It's been weeks, and they still have nothing at all?"

"Nothing." He says, still studying his hands, "He hasn't spoken one word since the funeral."

My mind strays slightly to the night of the funeral, to the last real conversation we had before now. He was so sad all that day, it was to be expected of course, but of all the lows I myself have seen Christian hit this one was by far the lowest.

"Hi," He said standing in the doorway of our bedroom, I looked at him in the mirror that I was standing in front of. "You looked beautiful today baby, thank you so much for being there for me today."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else," I said quietly, in that moment I was almost tempted to tell this broken man that I loved him, but decided that now wasn't the time. "I'm so sorry, Christian."

"Taylor spoke to the police." He said as he walked up behind me resting his hands on my shoulders and running them down my arms. "He said that all that they could get is that this was a job that they were hired to do."

"By who?" I asked, I stared at him in the mirror as he began an attempt to busy his hands, he unzipped my funeral dress and pushed it off of my shoulders and it fell to the floor. He spoke as he walked to the dresser taking out pajamas and handing them to me.

"We don't know, he won't say that." He said as the clothes reached my hands, then he put his hands on my shoulders looking down at me." Though he did say that this all, somehow, all revolves around you."