Fifty Shades Complete Part 3

May 2013

*I do not own these characters. All rights go to E.L. James*


A glass-shattering scream escapes from the other side of the closed bathroom door. Ana! My heart seizes at the sound and my feet cannot move fast enough to carry me to her. Reluctantly I leave our son in the middle of my vast bed where we have been playing, spending our morning as a family of four together. The bright rays streaming through the window were only moments earlier a bright sign of a welcome day. Now they only serve as a mechanism to elucidate the obscure fear, which is suddenly dousing the room.

"Stay here son. Daddy will be right back," I tell Ted, placing my hand on his lap to emphasize my words. He looks up at me with bright gray eyes, so unaware of the dread in mine.

My feet feel laden and are difficult to move, my imagination is in overdrive and deep inside I know what I will find on the other side of that door. The air in the room has become thick oppression, making it hard to breathe. I swing the door open and see Ana. She is sitting on the floor, one hand grasping her belly while she holds the other out in front of her. Her fingers splayed wide as she looks at her hand in terror. Blood. Blood on her fingers. Blood on the toilet beside her, on the tiles around her, and soaking her panties which are tangled at her ankles. All I see is blood and the woman I love sitting amongst it.

Her eyes shift to mine and they are filled with tears. Without hesitation, I am at her side immediately. I press her head to my chest and feel her damp cheeks soak my bare skin. Minutes before we were blissfully engaged as a family. Now I feel desolate, a deep feeling of dread has nestled itself in my gut.

"I'm bleeding," she speaks, stating the obvious with a quivering voice. Her words are a simple explanation of what I already know. "I shouldn't be bleeding." She shakes her head violently. "No. No. No…I shouldn't be bleeding." Her body begins to convulse as the tears and sobs take over. Realization hits me hard, like a freight train loaded with bricks. This is the penance I should pay for my response when she told me she was carrying our first child. Not her though, not my Ana. She has done nothing wrong and does not deserve this punishment for my inadequacies. I am not worthy of experiencing the elation I felt when she told me of the second life she was carrying. Jesus fucking Christ, I know that now. Why punish my Ana God? Why?

My mouth is dry and I swallow hard to attempt to bring any moisture back in to it but nothing changes. I cannot speak. I need to speak. I must say something to comfort my Ana, but I have nothing. All I have are my own selfish tears. I hold her tight and she feels so broken in my arms. A crumpled mass of the woman I love. I have no words to comfort her. I have no words at all. There are no words.