Updated on August 5, 2015
50 Shades Freed – Chapter 10
Christian went away for a few days and Ana went out for a couple of drinks with her friend. How DARE she. When she got back to the apartment, everything was in chaos and Jack I-want-revenge-for-sexually-harassing-you-and-not-getting-away-with-it Hyde was passed out on the floor with a security guard standing over him.
Read Chapter 9.
50 Shades Freed
My heart is pounding and blood thrums loudly in me eardrums; the alcohol flowing through my system amplifies the sound.
Is that how science works? IS IT?
“Ma’am. Just knocked out cold.”
Relief floods through me.
Ana’s such a good person. She doesn’t wish her stalker dead!
“And Gail? Mrs Jones?”
“I’m here, Ana.”
Well, looks like everyone’s OK. May as well go to bed.
She’s probably just come out of the panic room … Who knew we’d need it so soon?
Christian, who had it built, presumably.
Ryan the security guard explains that Jack turned up wearing gloves and tried to get on the service elevator. Ryan let him in so he could capture him in the apartment. Cunning plan.
Gloves? The thought distracts me. Creepy.
Anyone breaking in anywhere would wear gloves. Why is this surprising?
“We need to secure him. Something to restrain him – cord or rope.”
Cable ties. I flush as memories of the night before invade my mind.
Just get out the fluffy handcuffs, why not?
They tie him up.
Then I notice the Glock on the floor with a silencer attached. Holy shit! Jack was armed?
Oh come on, am I supposed to believe that someone who got fired from his job decided MURDER was the answer? No, I shall not.
Ryan pauses and partially pulls a roll of duct tape from the man’s pocket.
Maybe he just wanted to help with your sex games?
“I think we should call the police,” I say.
I decide to call Christian.
Yes, even better than the police. Your psychotic husband.
And then it occurs to me. Shit. What if I’d been here?
That occurs to you NOW? The gun and duct tape didn’t do it for you?
She calls Christian. Bear in mind at this point NOBODY has called the police. So, she calls Christian. She gets voice mail, tells him something happened but everyone is fine so ‘don’t worry’. HA! Then Sawyer calls the police (AT LAST!) and they come over.
“Hyde is known to us,” Detective Clark murmurs.
How mysterious. Could it be to do with whatever was on his computer?
I remind myself to call Mom and Ray.
There are reporters outside and you still haven’t called your parents?
And suddenly I feel homesick for Christian. I want to have him hold me and tell me that he loves me, even though I don’t do as I’m told.
You’re lucky he loves someone so horribly disobedient.
She goes to bed (still hasn’t called her parents!) and wakes up to find Christian there.
How did he get here?
Ooh, I’m going to guess … by camel. No wait, PRIVATE FUCKING JET.
“You’re still mad.”
“No, Ana. I am way, way beyond mad.”
You bloody shouldn’t be, you controlling prick.
“I’m okay. We’re all okay. And Jack is gone.”
He shakes his head. “No thanks to you.”
He kisses her (what a good man, to consider forgiving her her transgressions) and she goes to sleep again. When she wakes up in the morning he’s in the shower and she slips in behind him.
He places both his hands on mine and brings them to an abrupt halt. He shakes his head.
No more than you deserve, you wayward harpy.
My subconscious shakes her head, wearing her you’ve-really-fucked-up-this-time-look.
Christ, you haven’t fucked up! You went out with your friend to a bar!
“And all because you can’t follow a simple, fucking request.”
Christian’s not in the bedroom when I come out. I throw on my favourite plum dress and black sandals, and I’m conscious that I’ve chosen this outfit because Christian likes it.
Shame he doesn’t like you any more.
Fitting diamond stud into my ears, I dash to the bathroom to apply a little mascara.
Just casually chucking diamonds on like it ain’t no thang.
I need to face the consequences of my rash decision to actually enjoy myself with my friend.
LISTEN TO YOURSELF WOMAN.
She has breakfast and realises she’s late for work. Christian is in the kitchen.
“You’re going?” he says when he sees me.
“To work? Yes, of course.”
Every FUCKING time this is a conversation. Of course she’s going to work: she’s an employed person who likes her job. Does he think this constant undermining is HELPING? /rant
“I don’t want to fight. I was coming to ask you if I could take my car.”
“No. You can’t.”
It’s YOUR motherfudging car.
I remember my mom’s words of wisdom before my wedding. Ana, honey, you really have to choose your battles.
What you’re doing is choosing not to fight any battles, even when you’re right.
“You haven’t kissed me,” I whisper.
Abruptly he stands and grabs my face between his hands, and in a flash his lips are hard on mine.
I just don’t get how his possessiveness, his guilt-tripping, his need for control in every aspect of her life is seen by anybody as anything but emotional abuse.
She gets in the car with Taylor (security) and they drive to work. On the way (hallelujah!) she calls her mum and step-dad. They arrive at work and there are paparazzi outside.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Mrs Grey?”
Et tu, Taylor?
“Take me around to the delivery entrance, please, Taylor.”
They’ll never think to look there!
Later on at work, Elizabeth (colleague? boss?) comes in to ask if she’s OK. She says she’ll help Ana with anything she needs. How genuinely nice of her.
That has to have been the briefest, most pointless meeting in the Western Hemisphere today.
Well, way to be an ungrateful bitch.
I reach for my BlackBerry. As I do, my work e-mail pings.
No. No. Please. Not emails. *I am dragged backwards by my ankles, clawing the ground and screaming*
“Anastasia. Detective Clark will be visiting your office today at 3pm to take your statement.”
Christian. Thanks for letting me organise a time that is convenient for me.
She says OK and he doesn’t reply (thank you, God). Then she realises that he was wearing his tux when she saw him this morning, meaning he left New York mid-function, before the Jack incident.
Last night at that hour, I was still at large with Kate.
“Aw heck, Sheriff, that varmint Anastasia is still at large. Better put up a WANTED poster.”
If Christian came back merely because I was out, then he was overreacting.
So you can be pretty sure that’s why he came back.
She emails Christian to ask him, but gets no response. She emails again, a pretty good message actually.
“I am an adult female and went for a drink with my friend. I did not understand the security ramifications of CHANGING MY MIND because YOU NEVER TELL ME ANYTHING. Fact is, we were safer in the bar than at the apartment. I understand your concerns are something to do with material that was on Jack’s computer. I am your WIFE. Are you going to tell me? You are not the only one is fucking pissed. Okay?”
Woo! Woohoo! Woo!
“Perhaps we can discuss this when you get home to OUR apartment.” Christian Grey.
Oh, so when you want to talk it can’t wait, but when she wants to talk you decide when?
She gives her statement to Detective Clark: uneventful. After work, she gets driven home.
I drop my briefcase in the hall and head into the great room. I stop. Holy fuck.
Is it a huge banner saying, “Sorry”?
Christian is standing by the piano, dressed in a tight black T-shirt and jeans … those jeans – the ones he wore in the playroom.
Again, HOW CAN YOU TELL IT’S THE SAME JEANS? JEANS ARE JEANS ARE JEANS.
“Good to have you home. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Wait, that’s it? She stopped and said holy fuck because he was wearing some jeans? Gaargh!
Read Chapter 11.