Updated on August 5, 2015
50 Shades of Grey – Chapter Twenty Six
And so, at last, it has all come to this: the final chapter. I know you’ve been waiting for this for a while, but I had to give myself Christmas off to recover from the brain haemorrhages I got from reading the first 25 chapters. OK then, let’s get this shit over with.
50 Shades of Grey
I wake with a jolt.
At least you haven’t lulled us in with a dream this time. Small mercies.
Holy crap … I need to take my pill.
Calm down. If you freak out every time you need to take the pill, you’ll have a heart attack within the year.
I hear faint notes from the piano. Christian is playing.
Cue Ana watching him through the doorway and marvelling at how deep and beautiful he is. Like the Mariana Trench.
I hesitate, watching from the shadows, not wanting to interrupt him … He looks lost, sad even, and achingly lonely…
My own ability to predict EL James’ style scares me.
I move cautiously towards him, drawn as a moth to the flame … the idea makes me smile.
Because you’ve already had the same idea fifteen times before?
“Chopin. Prelude opus twenty-eight, number four. In E minor, if you’re interested,” he murmurs.
You could tell her it’s ‘The Wheels on the Bus’ and she’d believe you.
“Play the other one.”
“The Bach piece…”
Yeh, you know, the other piece of classical music.
“It’s eight in the morning for me. And I need to take my pill.”
He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Well remembered,” he murmurs…
Congratulations, you have remembered to do the only thing you need to do all day. Clever girl.
“You’d always rather have sex than talk.” I laugh…
“True. Especially with you.”
I like to think this isn’t because the sex is so good, but because her conversation is so bad.
“Well, I think the contract is moot, don’t you?” His voice is low and husky, his eyes soft.
No! The contract is not moot! You have spent the WHOLE BOOK discussing it (and I have spent the whole book READING about you discussing it), so at least have the courtesy to sign the damned thing.
Whoa. This has gotten serious so quickly. … My scalp prickles. Jeez, I need some tea.
Oops, EL James let the American mask slip there and a little bit of British got out.
My pill! I rummage in my purse…
I’d say take a chill pill, but that would be two things for you to remember and I don’t think you’re up to it.
One swallow and I’m done.
Yes. That’s how pills work.
EL James cunningly slips in another cut and paste job. It’s the contract again, with the food list rule crossed out. Well, we all know how it feels to have to meet a word count when you simply can’t be arsed.
“Did you just roll your eyes at me, Anastasia?” he breathes.
Before I read this book people talked about how it features anal sex and fisting. That still hasn’t happened. Instead it seems that yet another spanking is in order.
He’s stalking me in his own kitchen.
“That’s only if you catch me, Christian.”
Oh brilliant, they’re going to have a run around first.
I’m a child again, though that’s not right.
Awkward, clumsy and just a bit weird. That sentence is Ana all over.
My subconscious has found her Nikes, and she’s on the starting blocks.
SOON I WON’T HAVE TO READ SHEER NONSENSE ABOUT SUBCONCIOUSES ANY MORE.
“I feel about punishment the way you feel about my touching you.”
He’s ashen. “That’s how you feel?” he whispers.
No, obviously. You ENJOY getting spanked. Don’t lie to him like that.
“No. It doesn’t affect me quite as much as that…”
Or even slightly like that. You get MULTIPLE ORGASMS from punishment.
“I do it for you, Christian, because you need it. I don’t.”
Well, he’s never going to want to have sex with you again. Good job.
“I want to hurt you. But not beyond anything that you couldn’t take.”
Fuck, WHAT?! This is what he’s said basically since DAY ONE.
“…you begged me not to leave you, in your sleep,” he murmurs, against my lips.
I can only imagine that was indecipherable then.
“Show me how much it can hurt.”
“Punish me. I want to know how bad it can get.”
He doesn’t like people touching him. EVER. You really want to do that?
They go to the Red Room. It looks like there might be some actual pain at last.
I bend over the smooth soft leather … I close my eyes, bracing myself for the blow. It comes hard, snapping across my backside, and the bite of the belt is everything I feared.
Painful. Painful is what she feared, in case that wasn’t clear.
I desperately scrabble around my psyche looking for some internal strength.
Did you maybe leave it in your medulla oblongata?
…the blistering pain cuts across me again, and I hear him drop the belt behind me, and he’s pulling me into his arms, all breathless and compassionate … and I want none of him.
“Don’t touch me!” I hiss.
So she now completely understands everything that he’s ever been through. Cool.
“Well, you are one fucked-up son of a bitch.”
“Ana,” he pleads, shocked.
You ASKED him to do this to you. You KNEW it would be bad. He’s insecure, damaged and in a rare moment of trust he showed you the most traumatic area of his life. And you throw it back in his FACE? He should never speak to you again.
And to be fair to him, he warned me and warned me, time and again.
Oh, to be fair to him? How big of you.
My thoughts are all haywire and jumbled, echoing and bouncing off the inside of my skull.
Your hollow, hollow skull.
Oh, this is a dark morning of the soul for me.
STOP, JUST STOP, THIS IS DIABOLICAL.
Oh no – he’s here.
Dear God, no. He might do something horrible like repeatedly pleasure you, or do everything you ask him to.
They have ‘the talk’. She says she can’t be everything he wants, because she won’t let him beat her like that again. He says he should let her go, because he’s no good for her. Naturally they’ll both ignore their own sensible advice and fill two subsequent books with the turbulent, violent relationship they have inflicted upon themselves.
“I’ve fallen in love with you, Christian.”
His eyes widen … with pure, undiluted fear.
“You can’t love me, Ana. No … that’s wrong.”
Probably the worst possible reaction to the L-word.
This is it. She’s going to leave him. Apparently.
I finish my shower – and as I haven’t washed my hair, I can dry myself quickly.
She walks into ‘the great room’ to say goodbye. He’s having an angry phone call, in which he mentions a ‘fuckup’ and says ‘Find her’. She puts all her free shit he’s given her down on the table and asks for the money Taylor got from selling her Beetle. OHMIGOD. I almost, ALMOST give a shit.
“Will you take a check?” he says acidly.
“Yes. I think you’re good for it.”
I take a last, lingering look around his apartment … all abstracts, serene, cool … cold, even. Fitting, I think absently.
Yes, we all got that particular nuance in the first chapter.
There’s no way I can tolerate his touch now, it will slay me.
Get the fuck on with it.
“Good-bye, Christian,” I murmur.
I’M CRYING! I’m not.
The elevator … whisks me down to the bowels of the basement…
Lol. Bowels. It’s funny ‘cos she just got spanked.
I gasp, as crippling pain slices through me…
Sounds like staying with him would have been less painful. Ironically.
I fall into my bed, shoes and all, and howl. The pain is indescribable … Grief. …the physical pain from the bite of a belt is nothing … compared to this devastation.
I made that point first. God help me.
I curl up … and surrender myself to my grief.
That is literally the final sentence. And I never thought that such a miserable end would bring me such joy. Now get the hell out of my life, EL James, Ana Steele and Christian Grey. The power of Christ compels you!