What was I thinking Why did I let him do that to meI wanted the dark, to explore how bad it could be - but it's too dark for me. I cannot do this. Yet, this is what he does, this is how he gets his kicks.
What a monumental wake-up call. And to be fair to him, he warned me and warned me, time and again. He's not normal. He has needs that I cannot fulfill. I realize that now.
I don't want him to hit me like that again, ever. I think of the couple of times he has hit me, and how easy he was on me by comparison. Is that enough for himI sob harder into the pillow. I am going to lose him. He won't want to be with me if I can't give him this.
Why, why, why have I fallen in love with Fifty ShadesWhyWhy can't I love Jose, or Paul Clayton, or someone like me?
Oh, his distraught look as I left. I was so cruel, so shocked by the savagery... will he forgive me... will I forgive himMy thoughts are all haywire and jumbled, echoing and bouncing off the inside of my skull. My subconscious is shaking her head sadly, and my inner goddess is nowhere to be seen. Oh, this is a dark morning of the soul for me. I'm so alone. I want my Mom. I remember her parting words at the airport, Follow your heart, darling, and please, please - try not to over-think things. Relax and enjoy. You are so young, sweetheart, you have so much to experience, just let it happen.
You deserve the best of everything.
I did follow my heart, and I have a sore ass and an anguished, broken spirit to show for it. I have to go. That's it... I have to leave. He's no good for me, and I am no good for him. How can we possibly make this workAnd the thought of not seeing him again practically chokes me... my Fifty Shades.
I hear the door click open. Oh no - he's here. He puts something down on the bedside table, and the bed shifts under his weight as he climbs in behind me.
"Hush," he breathes, and I want to pull away from him, move to the other side of the bed, but I'm paralyzed. I cannot move and lie stiffly, not yielding at all. "Don't fight me, Ana, please," he whispers. Gently, he pulls me into his arms, burying his nose in my hair, kissing my neck.
"Don't hate me," he breathes softly against my skin, his voice achingly sad. My heart clenches anew and releases a fresh wave of silent sobbing. He continues to kiss me softly, tenderly, but I remain aloof and wary.
We lie together like this, neither saying anything for ages. He just holds me, and very gradually, I relax and stop crying. Dawn comes and goes, and the soft light gets brighter as morning moves on, and still we lie quietly.
"I bought you some Advil and some arnica cream," he says after a long while.
I turn very slowly in his arms so I can face him. I am resting my head on his arm. His eyes are flinty gray and guarded.
I gaze at his beautiful face. He's giving nothing away, but he keeps his eyes on mine, hardly blinking. Oh, he is so breathtakingly good-looking. In such a short time, he's become so, so dear to me. Reaching up, I caress his cheek and run the tips of my fingers through his stubble. He closes his eyes and exhales slightly.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
He opens his eyes and looks at me puzzled.
"What for?"
"What I said."
"You didn't tell me anything I didn't know." And his eyes soften with relief. "I am sorry I hurt you."
I shrug.
"I asked for it." And now I know. I swallow. Here goes. I need to say my piece. "I don't think I can be everything you want me to be," I whisper. His eyes widen slightly, and he blinks, his fearful expression returning.
"You are everything I want you to be."
What?
"I don't understand. I'm not obedient, and you can be as sure as hell I'm not going to let you do that to me again. And that's what you need, you said so."
He closes his eyes again, and I can see a myriad of emotions cross his face. When he reopens them, his expression is bleak. Oh no.
"You're right. I should let you go. I am no good for you."
My scalp prickles as every single hair follicle on my body stands to attention, and the world falls away from me, leaving a wide, yawning abyss for me to fall into. Oh no.
"I don't want to go," I whisper. Fuck - this is it. Pay or play. Tears swim in my eyes once more.
"I don't want you to go either," he whispers, his voice raw. He reaches up and gently strokes my cheek and wipes away a falling tear with his thumb. "I've come alive since I met you." His thumb traces the contours of my lower lip.
"Me too," I whisper, "I've fallen in love with you, Christian."
His eyes widen again, but this time, with pure, undiluted fear.
"No," he breathes as if I've knocked the wind out of him.
Oh no.
"You can't love me, Ana. No... that's wrong." He's horrified.
"WrongWhy's it wrong?"
"Well, look at you. I can't make you happy." His voice is anguished.
"But you do make me happy." I frown.
"Not at the moment, not doing what I want to do."
Holy f**k. This really is it. This is what it boils down to - incompatibility - and all those poor subs come to mind.
"We'll never get past that, will we?" I whisper, my scalp prickling in fear.
He shakes his head bleakly. I close my eyes. I cannot bear to look at him.
"Well... I'd better go, then," I murmur, wincing as I sit up.
"No, don't go." He sounds panicked.
"There's no point in me staying." Suddenly, I feel tired, really dog-tired, and I want to go now. I climb out of bed, and Christian follows.
"I'm going to get dressed. I'd like some privacy," I say, my voice flat and empty as I leave him standing in the bedroom.