Fifty Shades Of Grey: My Years With Elena #Explicit [Fifty Shades] #fanfic

CHAPTER ONE

*WARNING! This book is sexually explicit*

August 1998

WHY THE FUCK DID I THINK THIS WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA?

I pour another wheelbarrow of rubble into the dumpster in the Lincoln's back yard and scuttle backwards hurriedly, before the dust plume hits me in the face.

Damn Carrick. This is all his fault.

I angrily grab my t-shirt that I had thrown on to the half-built brick wall and wipe it around my face and neck. Sweat is pouring off me in rivers and the summer heat is almost unbearable.

But I will not give up.

I'm not going to give Carrick or that butt-wipe Elliot, the satisfaction that I caved. Besides, I need the money or I can't buy any more booze.

I sigh disconsolately and sit down on the warm bricks.

God, what I would give for a bourbon right about now. Or a few beers. Yeah, a few ice-cold Budweisers would really hit the spot. FUCKING CARRICK! Why couldn't the son-of-a-bitch just give me an advance on my allowance like I asked? I bet fucking suck-ass-golden-boy-Elliot would have gotten an advance.

BASTARD.

I grab a stray pebble and hurl it in frustration at the dumpster. It makes a satisfying clanging noise against the metal. I grab another one, as Carrick's harsh words come back to haunt me.

'You want more money boy? Then go earn some. Your mom and I aren't subbing you any extra money - not after all the trouble you've caused. If you can't look after your finances, that's your problem. Your allowance is more than enough to cover extra treats. What the hell do you spend it all on, anyway?'

On booze and porn if you must know, I scream at him in my head. It pays to have friends in low places.

Besides, it was their fault I now need porn and booze. I was quite happy venting my frustrations with my fists on anyone who pissed me off, but that wasn't good enough for the high and mighty Grey family! Well, they took one venting outlet off me, it's only natural I had to replace it with something else.

I run my hand through my sweat-damp hair in frustration. I fucking HATE my hair, it never stays in place. I've half a mind to just shave the fucker off, especially if this heat wave continues. I grin wickedly. That would really piss Carrick off! But mom and Mia would hate it...

I sigh again. I really wouldn't give a fuck if I didn't see Carrick or butt-munch Elliot ever again, but I know it would break mom's heart if I left. I couldn't bear to see that pain in her eyes again. I can still recall it from that God-awful night when I first met her in the ER. I was so hungry, dehydrated and traumatised, that when she arrived, dressed all in white with her blonde hair, I'd thought she was an angel. And so she turned out to be. My very own guardian angel. She saved my life. I have no doubt I'd be dead if it wasn't for her, or at least living on the streets or in some shitty foster home. I want so much to make her proud of me, to repay the faith she showed in me - not only in saving my life that night - but also taking me into her home and loving me as if I truly was her son. I shake my head sadly.

But all I seem to do is screw things up. Why am I such a fuck-up? Is it really all down to the bad start I had in life? The more I try, the more I end up being a fuck-up like...her. She who still haunts my dreams. The lady whose name I cannot say out loud.

The crack whore.

My birth mom.

I shudder as my body involuntarily breaks out into a cold sweat.