First published by The Writer’s Coffee Shop, 2011
Copyright © E L James, 2011
The right of E L James to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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www.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/ejames
E L James is a TV executive, wife, and mother of two, based in West London. Since early childhood, she dreamt of writing stories that readers would fall in love with, but put those dreams on hold to focus on her family and her career. She finally plucked up the courage to put pen to paper with her first novel,
E L James is currently working on the sequel to
I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Sarah, Kay, and Jada. Thank you for all that you have done for me.
Also HUGE thanks to Kathleen and Kristi who stepped into the breach and sorted stuff out.
Thank you too to Niall, my husband, my lover, and my best friend (most of the time).
And a big shout out to all the wonderful, wonderful women from all over the world whom I have had the pleasure of meeting since I started all this, and whom I now consider friends, including: Ale, Alex, Amy, Andrea, Angela, Azucena, Babs, Bee, Belinda, Betsy, Brandy, Britt, Caroline, Catherine, Dawn, Gwen, Hannah, Janet, Jen, Jenn, Jill, Kathy, Katie, Kel-lie, Kelly, Liz, Mandy, Margaret, Natalia, Nicole, Nora, Olga, Pam, Pauline, Raina, Raizie, Rajka, Rhian, Ruth, Steph, Susi, Tasha, Taylor and Una. And also to the many, many talented, funny, warm women (and men) I have met online. You know who you are.
Thanks to Morgan and Jenn for all things Heathman.
And finally, thank you to Janine, my editor. You rock. That is all.
He’s come back. Mommy’s asleep or she’s sick again.
I hide and curl up small under the table in the kitchen. Through my fingers I can see Mommy. She is asleep on the couch. Her hand is on the sticky green rug, and he’s wearing his big boots with the shiny buckle and standing over Mommy shouting.
He hits Mommy with a belt.
Mommy makes a sobbing noise.
I have my fingers in my ears, and I close my eyes. The sound stops.
He turns and I can see his boots as he stomps into the kitchen. He still has the belt. He is trying to find me.
He stoops down and grins. He smells nasty. Of cigarettes and drink.
A chilling wail wakes him.
I have survived Day Three Post-Christian, and my first day at work. It has been a welcome distraction. The time has flown by in a haze of new faces, work to do, and Mr. Jack Hyde.
Mr. Jack Hyde . . . he smiles down at me, his blue eyes twinkling, as he leans against my desk.“Excellent work, Ana. I think we’re going to make a great team.” Somehow, I manage to curl my lips upward in a semblance of a smile.
“I’ll be off, if that’s okay with you,” I murmur.
“Of course, it’s five thirty. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Jack.”
“Goodnight, Ana.”
