Five Days of Perpetual Night

All works owned by E.L James... as we all know!

Read, and enjoy!

Enjoy the blueberry line breaks!

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Saturday, June 4, 2011 Early dawn.

… Walk in silence,

Don't walk away,

in silence.

… See the danger,

Always danger,

Endless talking,

Life rebuilding,

Don't walk away.

“I don't want you to go,” I murmur, unable to keep my voice from breaking. I look at Ana and see the steely determination in her eyes. It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room. The room was now a void; a frozen wasteland where sound and light have left no trace.

… Walk in silence,

Don't turn away, in silence.

Your confusion,

My illusion,

“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.” Ana states with false bravado. I step toward her, Ana recoils and raises her hands. “Don't, please. I can't do this.” Anastasia grabs her suitcase and backpack and heads to the foyer. Pausing, she takes a long, hard look around my apartment; one that I hoped to share with her someday. She glances at the long, white couch where she signed the NDA. She gazes at the beautiful piano where only a short time ago, I played such beautiful, mournful music. She sees the life that she has to abandon.

I follow behind, keeping a careful distance. I reluctantly press the elevator button and the doors open. I have never wanted this elevator to be so slow before. Climbing in, Ana murmurs, “Goodbye, Christian.” Her voice is despondent. Her glassy eyes are holding back unshed tears. The doors slide shut and the elevator descends, taking away my heart with it.

… Worn like a mask of self-hate,

Confronts and then dies.

Don't wa—

I numbly turn back; my feet concrete blocks as I reenter the apartment. I run both hands through my hair and pull. I feel my world crashing around me. There is a deep ache in my heart that I have never allowed myself to ever feel. My chest is constricting; my lungs are not getting the much-needed release from breathing. I grab the iPod from its dock and hurl it against the wall. The music that once played so softly, is now a mockery. I feel like a failure. I never fail and this loss is a demon sneering back at me. I smash the art-deco vase, sending glass and fragrant white and pink peonies flying. I fall to my knees and curl up into a foetal position; not caring that I am laying on tepid water and shards of broken glass.

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(Gail POV)

Awakened by the loud crash, Gail cautiously heads to the entrance of the great room. She is hesitant to approach Christian's pathetic form laying crumpled on the floor. After four years of working for him she is wary to test that staunch and professional relationship. She is empathetic, but is not sure how to help him—or if Christian would even want her help. Deciding that dithering was no longer an option, Gail silently walks to the sofa, grabs a throw blanket and with great gentleness, covers the now-sleeping Christian. Silent tears roll gently down her cheeks as she tip-toes back to her apartment.