Fifty Shades of Lincoln

Chapter 1

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I could hear Mother and a man shouting as I stood silently, shaking in the kitchen. Mother's voice began to rise, and although I couldn't make out what she was saying, I felt tears forming in my eyes. The man's voice challenged Mother's, raising higher than hers. I felt terror for that man. Mother would allow no one to speak to her that way.

Both voices silenced, shocking me. There was no screaming coming from mother, or the crack of one of her whips. Just silence.

"Katherine!" Mother shouted, an order for me to hurry to her. I ran out from the kitchen, looking down to ensure I avoided eye contact with mother—just like she had once told me to.

"Yes, Mother?" I asked quietly, my voice barely more than a breath.

"Go fetch me a glass of water," she ordered. Quickly, I rushed back into the kitchen, and I was ecstatic that she had given me an order than I could complete quickly and perfectly. I grabbed one of Mother's favorite glasses from the cabinet, grabbed one of the plastic water bottles, and poured the water into the glass. Careful not to spill, I hurried back to Mother. I kept my head angled down as I handed Mother the water.

I stood there in silence, careful not to move until Mother ordered me to. Mother did not speak, which was unlike her usual self. Perhaps I had done such a wonderful job and left her speechless? The pessimistic side of me doubted that was true.

My doubts were proven correct as Mother threw the glass to the ground, shattering it all over the marble floor. Mother shot out of her chair and tightly grabbed the bottom of my chin, then roughly tilted it up to face her.

"You idiotic child!" she spat at me. "You know that I prefer sparkling water. Are you purposely acting like such a brat?" The tears that had been building up poured out of my eyes. Why do I have to be such a bad person? Mother took her other hand and hit my cheek hardly, making me yelp in pain. The inside of my cheek was now bleeding, leaving an awful taste in my mouth.

The man rose quickly from his seat, rushed over to Mother, and grabbed both of her hands to stop her from hitting me. "Elena!" he shouted. "She's just a child. You're abusing her—this environment is not healthy for her." I stood there, silent and eyes widened. He talked back to Mother.

"Christian, let go," she growled. "She is my daughter, so I will choose what is best for her."

"She is not a submissive!" he yelled at Mother. "Katherine is a young girl that deserves to choose her own lifestyles. You do not get to throw her into this." Lifestyles? What else is there than this? Mother told me that I need someone to control me—that my life's purpose would never be fulfilled if I didn't obey.

"What do you suggest I do, Christian?" Mother snapped. "She's worthless living any other way. I might as well throw her to the curb, then." The man—Christian—released Mother's hands to reach into her jean pocket. From it, he pulled out a document, unfolded it, and placed it down on the coffee table Mother and him were seated by.

"Let me adopt her."

Mother stood there, and she looked as if she was about to crack up laughing. Live with this man I had never met?

Sharp pains in my feet and ankles cut off my thoughts. I looked down, seeing the broken glass which had made small cuts in my legs. Christian followed my gaze and rushed to my side, then picked me up in his arms.

"We should get you out of the glass, sweetie," he told me, walking me over to where he had been standing—right next to Mother. Christian placed a hand on my shoulder as my breathing quickened, and I jumped in surprise at the physical contact. As if Christian noticed, he removed some of the weight of his hand, not removing it entirely.

Mother glared at Christian. "Don't treat her so gently. She'll never be able to handle the real world." Mother was right. I am too weak. I will always be too weak.

"She is overprepared for the real world," Christian answers, contrasting from my beliefs.

"How is that?" Mother asked, looking baffled. I was glad she had asked the question because I was not so sure myself.

Christian points to me. "She's malnourished, to start. You are also training Katherine, without her consent, to be a submissive." Christian stops for a moment, and I believed he had nothing else to say until he went on, "I wouldn't even consider what you're doing to her to be training. It is just abuse, Elena. And no matter what you say to convince yourself that it is any less, I think you know that what you're doing is abhorrent."

Mother's cold eyes shot to me, peering far enough into my soul to cause me to tremble. Perhaps Mother was abusing me. The small number of movies I had been allowed to watch never included a Mother whipping her child. But Mother had said it was a choice that helped parents raise their children to be successful. Wasn't that what I wanted?

"You know what," Mother snapped, and I had just begun to realize that tears were pouring down my face. "Take the damn child. I don't want her." Mother doesn't want me. Realization poured over me. If Mother doesn't want me, am I even worth keeping alive?