50 Shades Darker – Chapter 14

So Christian saved Ana’s life and she bitched at him about it. She threatened to leave and he ended up on his knees begging her not to. Now he’s CHRISTIAN THE SUBMISSIVE and we’re all supposed to be TERRIBLY SHOCKED.

Read Chapter Thirteen, or read the whole lot on ‘The Fifty Shades Saga‘ page.

50 Shades Darker
Chapter 14

Christian on his knees at my feet … is the most chilling and sobering sight I have ever seen – more so than Leila and her gun.

Then you have your priorities very wrong.

“Why are you doing this? Talk to me,” I whisper.
“What would you like me to say?”

Oh, good, you’ve always wanted him to tell you how he feels.

I am going to have to fight to bring him back, to bring back my Fifty.

Well, you fought hard enough to make him go away, so that seems fair.

Not taking my eyes off his, I sink to my knees in front of him.

Wow, a touching symbolic gesture that brings her to the same level as him.

Like this, we are equals. We’re on a level.

Yes, I got that from the gesture. The explanation is NOT NECESSARY.

“I’m not going to run. I’ve told you and told you and told you, I won’t run.”

But you WERE just about to run.

“This is about me not being good enough for you … I am so scared you’ll get bored with me.”

He has told you and told you and told you, he won’t leave you.

“…and then I’ll end up like Leila … a shadow.”

God forbid you should just, you know, move on.

I realize … what my real problem is. I just don’t get why he likes me.

But you’ve been told by everyone you’ve EVER met how fantastic you are! How, HOW are you so freaking oblivious to EVERYTHING?

She says the same things she always has. I’m not enough for you, I can’t take a beating in bed, why would you love me? Yadda yadda yadda, I wonder whether EL James got paid by the word?

I continue to kneel … and I wait. And wait. And wait.
“I was so scared,” he whispers.

Christ, I never thought I’d want them to hurry up and have a conversation.

He shakes his head revealing his agony.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to solve the mystery of the missing comma.

“I didn’t know how volatile she would be … and then she looked so contrite. And I just knew what I had to do.”

Christian Grey, the first man to stare a gun out of a woman’s hands.

“She might have harmed you. And it would have been my fault.”

For being so attractive and sexy and awesome. Waaaah.

Then it dawns on me that everything he did was to keep me safe.

Hallelujah! Can we stop talking about it now?

He says he loves me, but then he was so harsh, throwing me out of my own apartment.

Harsh? HARSH?! As if you were going to go on with your day?!?!

“I wanted you away from danger, and … You. Just. Wouldn’t. Go,” he hisses.

Dat capitalisation.

“Anastasia Steele, you are the most stubborn woman I know.”
Oh, he’s back.

What a relief. He’s awkwardly using your full name again. Hooray.

“I thought I’d broken you.”
“Broken? Me? Oh no, Ana. Just the opposite. You’re my lifeline.”

Perhaps you should choose something more reliable as your lifeline. Like Congress.

…he gently places my hand on his chest – in the forbidden zone.

Oh, the feels! I can’t handle it!

And it’s like the air in my lungs has vaporized.

You mean the air has turned into … air?

Gently I start to undo the buttons on his shirt … revealing his chest.

I’m sorry, after all those sex scenes, I can’t get excited about you touching his chest.

Very subtly he tilts his head to one side, steeling himself in anticipation.

Steeling! Do you geddit?

Can I really do this to him?

He fucking wants you to. Yes, you can.

I extend my fingertips into his chest hair.

Who are you kidding? Christian Grey doesn’t have CHEST HAIR.

I brush my fingertips down his sternum … and his face creases as if he’s experiencing intolerable pain. This must be agony. It’s truly tormenting to watch.

Yes, yes, it’s painful and he trusts you. Amazing.

She kisses the scars on his chest whilst he groans in agony, or fear, or something. Then she asks him what the secret is, that he thinks will send her running for the hills. He shares.

“I’m a sadist, Ana. I like to whip little brown-haired girls like you because you all look like the crack whore – my birth mother.”

Read all about it! Troubled young man uses relationships to deal with mother issues!

This is bad. Really bad.

It really isn’t. I’d say it’s entirely expected.

“You said you weren’t a sadist.”
“No, I said I was a Dominant. If I lied to you it was a lie of omission.”

Of course there’s a difference between sadists and dominants, but I’m sure as all hell that the virginal Ana wouldn’t know that.

Then it hits me like a wrecking ball.

Ana Steele: making construction site/relationship comparisons way before Miley Cyrus.

If he’s a sadist, he really needs all that whipping and caning shit.

Yes, you knew this already. Am I supposed to be surprised?

…this really does mean we are incompatible.

Like you thought. From the very beginning.

“I’m talking about the heavy shit, Anastasia. You should see what I can do with a cane or a cat.”

I … you … probably didn’t need to mention that.

They keep talking. He says he doesn’t feel a compulsion to beat her any more – he’s willing to give it all up for her. She snaps at him, which definitely helps the situation. She wonders whether she should leave him.

“There is one thing you can do … to make me understand you will not run.”
“What?” I snap.
“Marry me,” he whispers.

Perfect timing!

I lie back flat on the floor and surrender myself to the laughter.

And a perfect reaction!

“Mr. Grey, it’s not a no, but it’s not a yes, either. You’re only doing this because you’re scared, and you don’t trust me.”

That was such a sensible response from Ana, I might just fall over.

Finally they get up off the floor and make dinner. Everything’s fine until Ana mentions that she went to a bar with Ethan. Christian gets moody, so she decides to improve things by asking him what he got up to with Leila in the apartment.

“We talked, and I gave her a bath.”

Oooooo … kkkkkkkkk.

Suddenly I want to cry – not succumb to ladylike tears that trickle decorously down my cheeks, but howling-at-the-moon crying.

Here’s some news for you: decorously trickling lady tears DO NOT EXIST. No woman cries prettily. No HUMAN cries prettily. IT IS A LIE.

I’m like an overflowing tank of gasoline – full, beyond capacity. There is no room for any more.

Got any more synonyms for ‘full’ there, buddy?

“It doesn’t mean anything. It was like caring for a child, a broken, shattered child.”
“Just stop, Christian! I’ve had enough of all this shit today. I am going to bed.”

They should have gone to bed a long LONG time ago. Just put this day out of its misery.

I sink to the floor and surrender to the overwhelming emotion I can no longer contain, sobbing huge chest-wrenching sobs.

He loves me and will give up everything for me. Life is AWFUL!


Read Chapter Fifteen.

Why not let me know what you think? You can buy the book here, or the entire trilogy, if you’re a glutton for punishment. Ironically.

About abusive relationships
Domestic violence helpline 0808 2000 247
Help for abused men 0808 801 0327

About eating disorders
Eating disorder helpline 0845 634 1414

Email this to someoneShare on FacebookShare on Google+Share on LinkedInPin on PinterestShare on RedditShare on StumbleUponShare on TumblrTweet about this on Twitter

What do you think?