For You to Read
属于您的小说阅读网站
五十度灰英文版 - Part 1 15(2)
繁体
恢复默认
返回目录【键盘操作】左右光标键:上下章节;回车键:目录;双击鼠标:停止/启动自动滚动;滚动时上下光标键调节滚动速度。
  ldquo;Four!” I yell as the belt bites me again, and now the tears are streaming down my face. I don’t want to cry. It angers me that I am crying. He hits me again.
  “Five.” My voice is more a choked, strangled sob, and in this moment, I think I hate him. One more, I can do one more. My backside feels as if it’s on fire.
  “Six,” I whisper as 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.
  “Let go… no... ” And I find myself struggling out his grasp, pushing him away. Fighting him.
  “Don’t touch me!” I hiss. I straighten and stare at him, and he’s watching me as if I might bolt, gray eyes wide, bemused. I dash the tears angrily out of my eyes with the backs of my hands, glaring at him.
  “This is what you really like? Me, like this?” I use the sleeve of the bathrobe to wipe my nose.
  He gazes at me warily.
  “Well, you are one fucked-up son of a bitch.”
  “Ana,” he pleads, shocked.
  “Don’t you dare, Ana me! You need to sort your shit out, Grey!” And with that, I turn stiffly, and I walk out of the playroom, closing the door quietly behind me.
  I clasp the door handle behind me and briefly lean back against the door. Where to go? Do I run? Do I stay? I am so mad, angry scalding tears spill down my cheeks, and I brush them furiously aside. I just want to curl up. Curl up and recuperate in some way. Heal my shattered faith. How could I have been so stupid? Of course it hurts.
  Tentatively, I rub my backside. Aah! It’s sore. Where to go? Not his room. My room, or the room that will be mine, no, is mine… was mine. This is why he wanted me to keep it. He knew I would need distance from him.
  I launch myself stiffly in that direction, conscious that Christian may follow me. It is still dark in the bedroom, dawn only a whisper in the skyline. I climb awkwardly into bed, careful not to sit on my aching and tender backside. I keep the bathrobe on, wrapping it around me, and curl up and really let go – sobbing hard into my pillow.
  What was I thinking? Why did I let him do that to me? I 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 him? I 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 Shades? Why? Why can’t I love José, 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 him? My 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 work? And 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.
  “Wrong? Why’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 fuck. 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.
  Heading downstairs, I glance at the great room, thinking how only hours before I had rested my head on his shoulder as he played the piano. So much has happened since then. I have had my eyes opened and glimpsed the extent of his depravity, and I now know he’s not capable of love – of giving or receiving love. My worst fears have been realized. And strangely, it’s very liberating.

  The pain is such that I refuse to acknowledge it. I feel numb. I have somehow escaped from my body and am now a casual observer to this unfolding tragedy. I shower quickly and methodically, thinking only of each second in front of me. Now squeeze body wash bottle. Put body wash bottle back in rack. Rub cloth on face, on shoulders… on and on, all simple, mechanical actions, requiring simple mechanical thoughts.
  I finish my shower – and as I haven’t washed my hair, I can dry myself quickly. I dress in the bathroom, taking my jeans and t-shirt out of my small suitcase. My jeans chafe against my backside, but quite frankly, it’s a pain I welcome as it distracts my mind from what’s happening to my splintering, shattered heart.
  I stoop to shut my suitcase, and the bag holding Christian’s gift catches my eye, a modeling kit for a Blahnik L23 glider, something for him to build. Tears threaten. Oh no… happier times, when there was hope of more. I take it out of the case, knowing that I need
  to give it to him. Quickly, I rip a small piece of paper from my notebook, hastily scribble a note for him, and leave it on top of the box.
  I gaze at myself in the mirror. A pale and haunted ghost stares back at me. I scoop my hair into a ponytail and ignore how swollen my eyelids are from the crying. My subconscious nods with approval. Even she knows not to be snarky right now. I cannot believe that my world is crumbling around me into a sterile pile of ashes, all my hopes and dreams cruelly dashed. No, no don’t think about it. Not now, not yet. Taking a deep breath, I pick up my case, and after placing the glider kit and my note on his pillow, I head for the great room.
  Christian is on the phone. He’s dressed in black jeans and t-shirt. His feet are bare.
  “He said what!” he shouts, making me jump. “Well, he could have told us the fucking truth. What’s his number, I need to call him… Welch, this is a real fuck-up.” He glances up and doesn’t take his dark and brooding eyes off me. “Find her,” he snaps and presses the off switch.
  I walk over to the couch and collect my backpack, doing my best to ignore him. I take the Mac out of it and walk back toward the kitchen, placing it carefully on the breakfast bar, along with the BlackBerry and the car key. When I turn to face him, he’s staring at me, stupefied with horror.
  “I need the money that Taylor got for my Beetle.” My voice is clear and calm, devoid of emotion… extraordinary.
  “Ana, I don’t want those things, they’re yours,” he says in disbelief. “Please, take them.”
  “No Christian – I only accepted them under sufferance – and I don’t want them anymore.”
  “Ana, be reasonable,” he scolds me, even now.
  “I don’t want anything that will remind me of you. I just need the money that Taylor got for my car.” My voice is quite monotone.
  He gasps.
  “Are you really trying to wound me?”
  “No.” I frown staring at him. Of course not… I love you. “I’m not. I’m trying to protect myself,” I whisper. Because you don’t want me the way I want you.
  “Please, Ana, take that stuff.”
  “Christian, I don’t want to fight – I just need the money.”
  He narrows his eyes, but I’m no longer intimidated by him. Well, only a little. I gaze impassively back, not blinking or backing down.
  “Will you take a check?” he says acidly.
  “Yes. I think you’re good for it.”
  He doesn’t smile, he just turns on his heel and stalks into his study. I take a last lingering look around his apartment – at the art on the walls – all abstracts, serene, cool… cold, even. Fitting, I think absently. My eyes stray to the piano. Jeez – if I’d kept my mouth shut, we’d have made love on the piano. No, fucked, we would have fucked on the piano. Well, I would have made love. The thought lies heavy and sad in my mind. He has never made love to me, has he? It’s always been fucking to him.

  Christian returns and hands me an envelope.
  “Taylor got a good price. It’s a classic car. You can ask him. He’ll take you home.” He nods in the direction over my shoulder. I turn, and Taylor is standing in the doorway, wearing his suit, as impeccable as ever.
  “That’s fine, I can get myself home, thank you.”
  I turn to stare at Christian, and I see the barely-contained fury in his eyes.
  “Are you going to defy me at every turn?”
  “Why change a habit of a lifetime?” I give him a small, apologetic shrug.
  He closes his eyes in frustration and runs his hand through his hair.
  “Please, Ana, let Taylor take you home.”
  “I’ll get the car, Miss Steele,” Taylor announces authoritatively. Christian nods at him, and when I glance around, Taylor has gone.
  I turn back to face Christian. We are four feet apart. He steps forward, and instinctively I step back. He stops, and the anguish in his expression is palpable, his gray eyes burning.
  “I don’t want you to go,” he murmurs, his voice full of longing.
  “I can’t stay. I know what I want and you can’t give it to me, and I can’t give you what you need.”
  He takes another step forward, and I hold up my hands.
  “Don’t, please.” I recoil from him. There’s no way I can tolerate his touch now, it will slay me. “I can’t do this.”
  Grabbing my suitcase and my backpack, I head for the foyer. He follows me, keeping a careful distance. He presses the elevator button, and the doors open. I climb in.
  “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 change my mind and try to comfort him.
  The elevator doors close, and it whisks me down to the bowels of the basement and to my own personal hell.
  Taylor holds the door open for me, and I climb into the back of the car. I avoid eye contact. Embarrassment and shame washes over me. I’m a complete failure. I had hoped to drag
  my Fifty Shades into the light, but it’s proved a task beyond my meager abilities. Desperately, I try to keep my emotions banked and at bay. As we head out onto 4th Avenue, I stare blankly out of the window, and the enormity of what I’ve done slowly washes over me. Shit – I’ve left him. The only man I’ve ever loved. The only man I’ve ever slept with. I gasp, and the levees burst. Tears course unbidden and unwelcome down my cheeks, and I wipe them away hurriedly with my fingers, scrambling in my bag for my sunglasses. As we pause at some traffic lights, Taylor holds out a linen handkerchief for me. He says nothing and doesn’t look in my direction, and I take it with gratitude.
  “Thank you,” I mutter, and this small discreet act of kindness is my undoing. I sit back in the luxurious leather seats and weep.
  The apartment is achingly empty and unfamiliar. I have not lived here long enough for it to feel like home. I head straight to my room, and there, hanging limply at the end of my bed, is a very sad, deflated helicopter balloon. Charlie Tango, looking and feeling exactly like me. I grab it angrily off my bedrail, snapping the tie, and hug it to me. Oh – what have I done?
  I fall onto my bed, shoes and all, and howl. The pain is indescribable… physical, mental… metaphysical… it is everywhere, seeping into the marrow of my bones. Grief. This is grief – and I’ve brought it on myself. Deep down, a nasty, unbidden thought comes from my inner goddess, her lip curled in a snarl… the physical pain from the bite of a belt is nothing, nothing compared to this devastation. I curl up, desperately clutching the flat foil balloon and Taylor’s handkerchief, and surrender myself to my grief.
  End of Part One
或许您还会喜欢:
暗店街
作者:佚名
章节:33 人气:0
摘要:一我的过去,一片朦胧……那天晚上,在一家咖啡馆的露天座位上,我只不过是一个模糊的影子而已。当时,我正在等着雨停,——那场雨很大它从我同于特分手的那个时候起,就倾泻下来了。几个小时前,我和于特在事务所①里见了最后一次面,那时,他虽象以往一样在笨重的写字台后面坐着,不过穿着大衣。因此,一眼就可以看出,他将要离去了。我坐在他的对面,坐在通常给顾客预备的皮扶手椅里。 [点击阅读]
暗藏杀机
作者:佚名
章节:28 人气:0
摘要:一九一五年五月七日下午两点,卢西塔尼亚号客轮接连被两枚鱼雷击中,正迅速下沉。船员以最快的速度放下救生艇。妇女和儿童排队等着上救生艇。有的妇女绝望地紧紧抱住丈夫,有的孩子拼命地抓住他们的父亲,另外一些妇女把孩子紧紧搂在怀里。一位女孩独自站在一旁,她很年轻,还不到十八岁。看上去她并不害怕,她看着前方,眼神既严肃又坚定。“请原谅。”旁边一位男人的声音吓了她一跳并使她转过身来。 [点击阅读]
暮光之城1:暮色
作者:佚名
章节:23 人气:0
摘要:序幕我从未多想我将如何死去,虽然在过去的几个月我有足够的理由去思考这个问题,但是即使我有想过,也从未想到死亡将如此地降临。我屏息静气地望着房间的另一头,远远地凝视着猎人那深邃的眼眸,而他则以愉快的目光回应我。这无疑是一个不错的死法,死在别人——我钟爱的人的家里。甚至可以说轰轰烈烈。这应该算是死得其所。我知道如果我没有来福克斯的话,此刻也就不必面对死亡。但是,尽管我害怕,也不会后悔当初的决定。 [点击阅读]
暮光之城3:月食
作者:佚名
章节:30 人气:0
摘要:谨以此书献给我的丈夫,潘乔感谢你的耐心、关爱、友谊和幽默感以及心甘情愿在外就餐也感谢我的孩子们,加布、塞斯及艾利感谢你们使我体验了那种人们甘愿随时为之付出生命的爱火与冰①有人说世界将终结于火,有人说是冰。从我尝过的欲望之果我赞同倾向于火之说。但若它非得两度沉沦,我想我对仇恨了解也够多可以说要是去毁灭,冰也不错,应该也行。 [点击阅读]
暮光之城5:午夜阳光
作者:佚名
章节:12 人气:0
摘要:每天的这个时候,我总是祈祷自己可以入睡。高中——或者称为炼狱更为恰当!如果有什么方式能够弥补我的罪过,那恐怕就是我读高中的记录了。这种厌烦感不是我曾经体会过的,每一天看上去都要比前一天更加极度无聊。也许这就是我睡眠的方式——如果说,睡眠的含义就是在变幻的时期内处于呆滞状态的话。我凝视着食堂角落水泥墙上的裂纹,想象着它们所呈现的花纹其实并不存在。 [点击阅读]
最优美的散文
作者:佚名
章节:93 人气:0
摘要:冬日漫步(1)[美国]亨利·大卫·梭罗亨利·大卫·梭罗(1817—1862),博物学家、散文家、超验现实主义作家。生于美国康科德,毕业于剑桥大学。他是一名虔诚的超验主义信徒,并用毕生的实践来体验这一思想,曾隐居家乡的瓦尔登湖长达两年之久,过着与世隔绝的生活。其代表作《瓦尔登悍又名《乎散记》,是他隐居生活的真实记录。 [点击阅读]
最先登上月球的人
作者:佚名
章节:7 人气:0
摘要:最先登上月球的人--一、结识卡沃尔先生一、结识卡沃尔先生最近,我在商业投机上遭到了丢人的失败,我把它归咎于我的运气,而不是我的能力。但一个债权人拼命逼我还债,最后,我认为除了写剧本出售外,没别的出路了。于是我来到利姆,租了间小平房,置备了几件家具,便开始舞文弄墨。毫无疑问,如果谁需要清静,那么利姆正是这样一个地方。这地方在海边,附近还有一大片沼泽。从我工作时挨着的窗户望去,可以看见一片山峰。 [点击阅读]
最后的明星晚宴
作者:佚名
章节:7 人气:0
摘要:浅见光彦十二月中旬打电话约野泽光子出来,照例把见面地点定在平冢亭。平冢亭位于浅见和野泽两家之间,是平冢神社的茶馆。据说神社供举的神是源义家,至于为什么叫平冢神社,个中缘由浅见也不清楚。浅见的母亲雪江寡妇很喜欢吃平冢亭的饭团,所以母亲觉得不舒服的时候,浅见必定会买一些饭团作为礼物带同家。浅见和光子在平冢亭会面,并非出于什么特别的考虑,而且饭团店门前的氛围也不适合表白爱意。对此,光子也心领神会。 [点击阅读]
最后的莫希干人
作者:佚名
章节:34 人气:0
摘要:十九世纪二十年代初,美国才开始摆脱对英国文学的依附,真正诞生了美国的民族文学。而书写这个文学《独立宣言》的代表人物,是欧文和库柏,他们同为美国民族文学的先驱者和奠基人,欧文被称为“美国文学之父”,而库柏则是“美国小说的鼻祖”。库柏的长篇小说《间谍》(一八二一),是美国文学史上第一部蜚声世界文坛的小说。他的代表作边疆五部曲《皮裹腿故事集》,影响更为广远;而《最后的莫希干人》则为其中最出色的一部。 [点击阅读]
最后致意
作者:佚名
章节:9 人气:0
摘要:我从笔记本的记载里发现,那是一八九二年三月底之前的一个寒风凛冽的日子。我们正坐着吃午饭,福尔摩斯接到了一份电报,并随手给了回电。他一语未发,但是看来心中有事,因为他随后站在炉火前面,脸上现出沉思的神色,抽着烟斗,不时瞧着那份电报。突然他转过身来对着我,眼里显出诡秘的神色。“华生,我想,我们必须把你看作是一位文学家,"他说。“怪诞这个词你怎么解释的?”“奇怪——异常,"我回答。 [点击阅读]