Fifty Shades of Revelations
Disclaimer: The "Fifty Shades" Trilogy is property of E.L. James. She created this wonderful world, and I am just borrowing the characters for the time being. No copyright infringement is intended; I am just an overly obsessed fan girl indulging in my writing fantasies.
-A/N- This is an AU of the "Fifty Shades" Trilogy. It will alternate between Christian's and Ana's POV. It takes place when Christian and Anastasia are in high school. Some of the character's backgrounds will change since they are in high school. In this story, Ana is only a year younger than Christian. Christian has not had an affair with Elena Lincoln, and is in his brawling/fighting stage. This story explores the developing relationship between Christian Grey, the troubled kid with a horrific past, and Anastasia Steele, the quiet girl struggling with a past of her own. The rating is "M," for mature audiences as there will be sexual situations in future chapters.
Chapter 1: Take No Prisoners
The crunch of the bones was not the most satisfying part of the experience; it was, indeed, the touch. Being able to touch another human being in any capacity was rare, and very frightening. I pounded my fists into his gut ruthlessly, longing for some understanding, some…control. And damned if this wasn't control; I was controlling the force with which I hit, landing precise blows in exactly where I wanted. And it felt good. The guttural release of all this…frustration and anger…was cathartic. God, did I need this. At some level, I knew that brawling this recklessly was a far cry from normality, but in the precious moments of human contact, it seemed normal enough to me.
The fight continued as my opponent punched and kicked his way into some semblance of defense. But I was brutal, and I took no prisoners. In my fury and frustration, I let it all out. My opponent never knew what hit him. I was a freight train on a runaway path. Finally, I have found an outlet, a reprieve, a solace.
The principal, Mr. Karakas, and the history teacher, Mr. Stagon, broke up the fight as quickly as they could. Mr. Stagon was restraining me, and his touch felt foreign. I felt violated and immediately shook him off.
"Damn it, Christian! Why are you fighting again?" Mr. Stagon screamed at me. His grip on me was tenuous to begin with, and my stress at him touching me was apparent. "You have to stop this, or else you'll be expelled. Why don't you understand that?"
I was only listening haphazardly; my lip was throbbing from where my opponent punched me. I quickly licked my chapped lips and tasted the copper of blood. The metallic taste lingered on my tongue, a stark reminder or the damage I had inflicted. My fists were raw with new marks as well as still-healing previous ones. This was my third fight in a month. And damn if it didn't make me feel a semblance of humanity.
I was reveling in the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I had touched someone, and that person touched me. Though it was in complete violence, it still happened. Maybe human contact is possible—somehow, someway, maybe it is. The thought of touch made the horrible memories come back. Unbidden, the smell of cheap bourbon and Camel cigarettes came to mind, triggering a convulsive reaction. Come here you little shit played in my mind. The memory triggered the physical pain to resurface. My chest began to ache at the thought…NO! I mentally snapped myself out of my reverie. Not again. It's done. It's over.
I longed for human contact, but in my clearest moments, the memories of what he did to me—what she let him do to me—haunt me, plaguing my very existence. In the throes of violence and physical altercation, it is only instinct is pushing me on, not the clarity of rational mind. And that's when I can finally feel some resemblance of normality.
"Christian Grey, my office NOW!" Mr. Karakas bellowed at me angrily. Jesus Christ, I was tired of this same thing. I trudged to his office and took a seat by his door. I waited sullenly, knowing the same tried tune that played out every time. "I should expel you but your parents are dear friends…" "Anger management is what you need to control these outrageous spells of fighting…" "Do you know how your peers view you Christian? You scare the living daylights out of them!" I've heard it all, and twice over. I could write a fucking book entitled "Christian Grey Fucks up Again" with all the responses I've heard.
Mr. Karakas was ushering my opponent, Johnny Nobody, to the nurse's office. Son of a bitch had it coming. He talked shit on me, and I busted him up over it. It's the same story, different day. Some asshole thinks he can challenge me, talk shit, and walk away without a black eye. No fucking way. I don't take anyone's shit. "…you scare the living daylights out of them!" Mr. Karakas' words pop into my head, uninvited of course. So what? Who needs friends? They were all pretentious fucks anyway. Worried about which slut the quarterback is fucking this week, which whore is pregnant, who got fucking wasted at the big party over the weekend, talking shit behind each other's back. If that was friendship, then fuck it all. I don't need it, and sure as hell don't want it. I sat angrily back trying to wipe the blood from my bleeding lip.
"Here, you dropped this," I heard a sweet, angelic voice sing at me. I looked up into the pale blue eyes of a stranger. I was suddenly taken aback by this unfamiliar face. Her face was flawless; beautiful, too large eyes I could lose myself in, perfectly full lips. She was biting on her bottom lip. Fuck…that simple action did something to me. Deep in my core, I felt something I couldn't name, but fuck did it feel good.
"T-thanks…" I stammered. She was handing me my book bag. I must have dropped it before the fight. As she put the strap of my bag in my hand, we briefly touched. Electric; there's no other way to describe it. A current passed from her hand to mine, shocking the living hell out of me. What the fuck was that. Even as slight as it was, I don't remember having such direct contact with a stranger.
She grabs a white tissue from her purse and presses it carefully against my lip. "You took quite a hit there. But I'm sure he's feeling much worse. Just hold this on your lip till the bleeding slows," she said. With a sweet, sincere smile, she slowly lowered her hand and walked away. I was stunned.
"GREY! GET IN MY OFFICE, NOW!" Mr. Karakas' voice booms over me, snapping me out of my stupor. I roll my eyes, collect my returned book bag, and go into the principal's office.
"Grey, that's it. You're done. One more fight, and it's all done. I will expel you, and it won't matter who you're parents are. I'm taking so much heat for not throwing you out months ago. This is your third school in two years Christian. Jesus, why do you fight? I know you're a good kid. But no one else is going to see that if you are all flying fists and bloody noses…" Mr. Karakas drones on and on, but I am not listening. My mind is still reeling from those haunting, powder blue eyes. She is so beautiful, so unafraid; just sweet sincerity reaching out to the school fuck-up. She was beautiful, and I had no damned idea who she was.
"…so this is your last warning, got it?" Mr. Karakas finally finished up. I nod quickly and set out to find Mia. My younger sister would know who that stranger was…
"Christian, not so fast, you are suspended for a week! You're going home, NOW," Mr. Karakas yelled. He ushered me out where my mother was waiting. Teary-eyed and sniffles, she was there to pick me up.
"Christian, honey, not this again son. I don't understand this…" my mother murmured. I was suddenly very upset for hurting my mom. She was the light of my life, my guardian angel in white; she saved me from the crack whore. Upsetting her was the last thing I ever wanted to do. But how could I explain the deeper reason for fighting? There is so much fear at my mother touching me, and I don't know how to even begin to vocalize it. So I never do. She knows I don't like being touched, maybe understands why, but it still hurts her; I know it does.
"I'm sorry mom. I promise, I'll try not to fight again…" I mutter apologetically. It was the same bullshit line I threw out last time, but I still felt like an asshole.
As we get into the car, a heavy, looming silence slowly overtakes the atmosphere, and the tension between my mother and I is palpable. We drive back to my house; the eerie silence is a backseat passenger. As soon as we get home, I run up to my room. I'm pissed and brooding, but the fault is my own. I am so frustrated at all these things I don't understand, and I don't know how to fix it. I want to touch and be touched, but damn it all to hell if it doesn't scare the living fuck out of me to even attempt it. My mind goes back to the girl with the oceanic eyes. When we touched, it was an electric current singing in my veins. Was it because it was unexpected, therefore I did not fear it? Or was it her?
The hours passed as I silently contemplate, and I hear my sister enter the house. "Christian! How could you beat up Sean Duggan? He was going to ask me to homecoming! Now he won't even look at me because of YOU!" Mia screamed at the top of her lungs.
"Shit," I cursed to myself. If she's pissed, I won't be able to get info on the mystery girl. I walked downstairs with my hands held up in defeat. "I'm sorry Mia. I didn't know you were interested in him like that. He was running his mouth, so I shut it for him."
"Ooohh, Christian Grey! I swear I could just throttle you sometimes! Seriously, he was such a hunkster!" Mia cried despondently, the thought of her lover boy evaporating in front of her.
I sighed. "Mia, you know everyone at school. I need to know, who is the new girl? She's got brown hair, blue eyes—" Mia cut me off before I can even finish. Apparently, Sean what's-his-face was now an afterthought.
"Oh! Her name is Anastasia Steele. She moved from Georgia to Seattle last week with her mom and step-dad. Oh, she's so nice! She's in the eleventh grade with me. And we have economics, calculus, and English together. She's super quiet, and apparently likes to read. She's been hiding in the library all week," Mia spouted out without taking a breath. Sweet Lord could my sister talk.
Anastasia…That name rolled off my tongue, and sent shivers down my spine. It is such an enchanting name for an enchanting girl. She was only a grade below me, but she seemed so much older. She was sweet to me. Perhaps she didn't know my reputation around school yet. My mood darkened considerably. Damn it, if she found out, she would probably run for the hills. No one wanted to associate with me; I was the quiet freak with angry outbursts and tenacity for physical violence. But she did seek me out to give me back my book bag. Does that mean anything, or was she just being nice to me?
I've always looked at girls as unattainable because of my resistance to touch. What girl would want to be near a freak that was scared to be touched? I was a bag of hormones, and each girl I saw stirred up my testosterone and made me crazy, but my fear of touch always kept me at bay. Talk about sexually frustrated. I am a walking contradiction; I longed to be touched and intimate with a girl, but I am too damn afraid to let her near me. It's not just sex, although that seems to occupy my mind a hell of a lot. It's also about connection, feeling like I belong, feeling like I could possibly be normal. But every thought of someone touching me brings up those tormented demons I kept locked away in my head appear and remind me of what touch was before to me.
Regardless, I need to get find out more about Anastasia, and why her touch didn't hurt me, but rather it enticed me in a quite electrifying way. I planned on seeking her out when my suspension was up. The next week would be long and torturous, but I had visions of blue to get me through it.