Happy Tuesday, Persephoneers! Let’s beat the midweek blues with some highlights from Fifty Shades Darker. We are almost halfway though this hot mess, but it doesn’t mean that the laughs stop here.
She’s here, gazing at me with an unnerving blank expression, holding a gun. My subconscious swoons into a dead faint, and I don’t think even smelling salts will bring her back.
Why does she have a blank expression? Was she reading this book?
She tilts her head to one side, regarding me as if I’m an exhibit in a freak show. Jeez, I’m not the freak here.
Does anyone else see the ableist language in this sentence? The ex-sub clearly had a break with reality after a traumatic experience, so while she’s not well, it doesn’t make her what Ana called her.
She’s like a fallen ethereal wraith. Half a person. She looks so slight, and in spite of the fact that she’s holding a gun, I suddenly feel overwhelmed with sympathy for her. Her hands flex around the weapon, and my eyes widen, threatening to pop from my head.
No! Suddenly I feel I’m the interloper, intruding on them as they stand gazing at each other. I’m an outsider–a voyeur, spying on a forbidden, intimate scene behind closed curtains.
Finally, he mouths a word at her. I can’t make out what it is, but the effect on Leila is immediate. She drops to the floor on her knees, her head bowed, and the gun falls and skitters uselessly across the wooden floor. Holy fuck.
“For the love of God, Anastasia, will you do as you’re told for once in your life and go!” Christian’s eyes lock with mine as he glowers at me, his voice a blistering cold shard of ice. The anger beneath the quiet, deliberate delivery of his words is palpable.
Angry at me? Surely not. Please–No! I feel like he’s slapped me hard. Why does he want to stay with her?
Have you ever thought maybe because she clearly can’t take care of herself and she needs help, and that you’re really just a pain in the ass?
She’s disturbed and Christian cares about her, that’s all this is, I rationalize. But in the back of my mind, my subconscious is shaking her head sadly.
It’s more than that. Leila was able to fulfill his needs in a way I cannot. The thought is depressing.
Again, you’re not seeing the point, Ana. He’s helping a mentally ill woman get the care she needs and that she might not have access to in normal circumstances. Stop making it about you.
“No,” he breathes, his eyes wide with panic, and suddenly he drops to his knees in front of me, head bowed, long-fingered hands spread out on his thighs. He takes a deep breath and doesn’t move.
Are you finally doing the right thing and leaving him? Did you finally pull your head out of the hole in the ground you had stuck it in?
His head sweeps up without hesitation, and he regards me passively with his cool gray gaze – he’s almost serene . . . expectant.
Holy Fuck . . . Christian. The submissive.
It seems to me like he’s just trying to manipulate you into not leaving, but I must be wrong, huh?
And that’s it for today! We’ll have Chapter Fourteen for you on Thursday!