E.L. James

Suddenly, as one, all the Greys stop talking and gape at Christian. What? Christian is singing softly to himself at the piano. Silence descends on us all as we strain to hear his soft, lyrical voice. I've heard him sing before, haven't they? He stops, suddenly conscious of the deathly hush that's fallen over the room. Kate glances questioningly at me and I shrug. Christian turns on the stool and frowns, embarrassed to realize he's become the center of attention.'Go on,' Grace urges softly. 'I've never heard you sing, Christian. Ever.

After you've taken so much trouble to set up recorder, you ask me now?

I need you." Every pore of my being is begging. This is what we do.

AnatasiaYou Are My More My Love, My LifeChristian

I want my world to start and end with you.

Anastasia, you're going to have to learn to be rich, too, if you say yes.' He says softly. 'Wealth isn't something I've ever aspired to, Christian.' I frown. 'I know. I love that about you. But then you've never been hungry.' He says simply.

Lying in my bed, I pray for a dreamless sleep... but if I am to dream, I want to dream of her.

Do you trust me Ana?"Ana! "Yes,I do."I respond spontaneously, not thinking...because it's true-I do trust him."Well,then"he looks relieved. "The rest of this stuff is just details""important details

I glance down his body. He's still wearing his shorts and his shirt, and I still have my T-shirt on. Jeez-- talk about wham, bam, thank you ma'am.

Having the thought of you being with someone else is like a knife twisting in my dark soul

So you've just slept with him, given him your virginity, a man who doesn't love you. In fact, he has odd ideas about you, wants to make you some sort of kinky sex slave.

Oh... Blip. Yeah, I see." He sounds distracted, awed. "Your child," I whisper."Our child." He counters.

It's very hard to grow up in a perfect family when you're not perfect.

And so a pattern develops: wake, work cry. sleep. I can't even escape him in my dreams. Gray burning eyes, his lost look, his hair burnished and bright and bright all haunt me. And the music... so much music-I cannot bear to hear any music. I am careful to avoid it at all costs. Even the jingles in commercials make me shudder.

Goodbye, Christian," I murmur."Ana, goodbye," he says softly, and he looks utterly, utterly broken,a man in agonizing pain, reflecting how I feel inside. I tear my gaze away from him before I can change my mind and try to comfort him.The elevator doors close close and it whisks me down to the bowels of the basement and to my own personal hell.

No. No!_ he says.__ . . ._ He looks wildly around the room. For inspiration? For divine intervention? I don__ know.__ou can__ go. Ana, I love you!___ love you, too, Christian, it__ just____o . . . no!_ he says in desperation and puts both hands on his head. __hristian .

I am crying over the loss of something I never had. How ridiculous. Mourning something that never was _ my dashed hopes, dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.

It's much easier to wear your pain on the outside...