5 years, 6 months, 18 days, 4 hours, and 33 seconds.
That was how long Elizabeth Webber, make that formerly Webber, had known Jason Morgan.
It had taken him all of 5 months, 12 days, 1 hour, and 6 seconds to officially take her out on a date. Well, if you could call it that. He'd taken her to Kelly's where his best friend, Carly Corinthos, had so rudely interrupted them because she was having a personal dispute with her husband. She forced them to skip desert and retreat to hiding out on the docks, where somehow, one of his employees had tracked him down. A shipment had been late, and so had their very first kiss.
She should have taken that as some kind of sign, right?
Instead, she gave him the benefit of the doubt.
And when at 1 year, 4 days, 3 hours, and 55 seconds, he asked her to move in with him, she figured it would be an attempt at a semi-charmed life. She envisioned the two of them making love until dawn, having breakfast in bed, and lounging around on their days off. Sadly, she hadn't thought about the fact that his boss, Sonny Corinthos, lived across the hall, Carly failed to remember to knock, and Johnny O'Brien seemed to think that Penthouse 2 was his second home.
She should have moved out when it was apparent that things were shot to hell, right?
Instead, she stayed, telling herself that eventually it would settle.
Which it finally did, but not until at, 3 years, 2 months, 8 days, 1 hour, and 2 seconds, when he proposed. On one knee, he made an everlasting declaration, and swore that he never wanted anyone else. With tears in her eyes, she reiterated her own feelings, the wedding she always dreamed of flashing in her mind. And then Carly had taken over planning, Jason was constantly away on business, and Johnny had become a guard that was hovering far too closely.
She should have called things off the second she started to doubt that he was the one, right?
Instead, she blamed it on nerves, deciding to wait it out.
And it was at, 4 years, 1 month, 3 days, 7 hours, and 19 seconds that she regretted never walking away. One simple stop by the warehouse on her way home from work, where Jason seemed to be spending all his time, and she asked herself why she'd let things get this far. Her fiancé was nowhere in sight, but low and behold, there was his partner and friend putting a bullet in the back of a man's head. Jason called it being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but she swore it was fate kicking her in the ass for holding out as long as she had.
She should have packed her bags, hopped on a bus, and gotten out of town, right?
Instead, she told herself it was the right thing to come through for his friend.
So, when at 4 years, 2 months, 5 days, 3 hours, and 42 seconds, everyone was on their hands and knees begging for her to do this one tiny favor. Everyone but Jason that is, seeing as he already knew it was far too much to ask. But she could it in his eyes that he was worried for his friend and she knew he wouldn't be the same without him. So, she married the damn fool Johnny O'Brien to keep him from going prison for murder.
She should have known then and there that wedding that she had conjured up was never coming, right?
Instead, she told herself it would pass, they'd get an annulment, and then she'd marry the love of her life.
Or at least that was her plan until at 5 years, 6 months, 18 days, 4 hours, and 33 seconds, she realized things were never going to turn out how they were supposed to. She hated Johnny for not only shooting that man in the face, but for guilt tripping her into marrying him. She hated his best friend Carly for being a controlling. She hated his boss for always keeping him away when she really needed him. And she hated Jason the most because it was meeting him that got her into this entire mess.
She was going to do what she should have done all along.
"Yes," she told herself aloud as she picked up the bottle of tequila from the edge of the pool table and poured a fourth shot.
She tossed it back, gripping the shot glass in the palm of her hand. And when the tears hit her eyes, she flung it across the room at the empty wall in front of her.
Smash.
Teeny shards of glass busted against the wall only to land on the floor where the previous three lay.
Smash.
Seconds later, the tequila bottle lay with the shot glasses. Not even alcohol seemed capable of soothing this ache.
Crack.
Went a pool stick against the edge of the table. It took several hits and grunts of frustrations before the stick finally broke in two.
She hated pool. How he had used teaching her to play as a cheap way to slide his arms around her and murmur sweet nothings in her ear.
She hurried around the table, grabbing another stick from the wall. And several bangs later…
Crack.
She had no way of knowing which stick was the actual one he used to teach her. She frowned, grabbing the last two from the wall.
She heard the door open as she was beating them against the table and she screamed at the guard to get the hell out. When Milo looked at her blankly, she tossed a stick at his head, and he seemed to get the point.
Crack…Crack…Crack.
Went the sound of her feet jumping up and down atop the broken pieces of wood. And had she been able to, she would have set them all on fire.
Actually, had she been able to, she would have sat the whole damn place on fire.
She clenched her shaking hands into fists, looking for something else…Something that would get the point-
"Yes," she murmured, snatching a picture of the two of them outside an Italian villa off the mantle.
Smash.
Went the sound of the picture flying into the fire place. She didn't move when the glass busted against the fire and flew around her.
She was sure at this point she couldn't feel a damn thing.
"Ooo," she shrieked excitedly, picking up the round piece of red glass that was sitting beside the picture.
A gift shortly after their first date. Perhaps, he thought it made up for the fact that Carly had been so rude or that he had to cut it short.
Too bad it didn't make up for the fact that he was a lousy date, a lousy boyfriend, and an even lousier fiancé.
Bang.
Went the glass flying at the wall above the mantle.
A tiny piece chipped off the side of it and her fury grew.
"Damn you," she hissed, picking it up from the floor.
Bang.
It hit the wall again, resulting in only a knick in the side.
The door behind her open and she turned around, screaming at Milo to get out, the piece of red glass flying across the room.
Bang.
Went the glass against the door.
She frowned, realizing it would have pleased her to hit him.
Muttering obscenities, she crossed the room, cursing Jason Morgan from hell to high heaven and back to hell.
Yes, hell.
That was where she wanted to leave him.
"Stupid, stupid stupid," she hissed under breath, picking the glass up from the floor.
She turned it over her in palm, remembering the first time she held it. So smooth and cool against her palm. And she and Jason had stood at the balcony doors, holding it up to the light for an hour, while she pointed out every shade of red she could name.
She scowled, slamming it against the hardwood floor, cursing when it still didn't break.
Her fists tightly at her sides, she glanced around for something, smirking gleefully when her eyes landed on the desk.
"Wanna go for a ride?" she murmured with a grimace, recalling the first time he had held the motorcycle helmet out to her.
That was before their first date. Before their first kiss. Before best friends and late nights. And long before she'd ever gotten swindled into marrying his best friend.
Slam.
Went the motorcycle helmet against the red glass.
"Stupid fucking bike," she hissed, screaming again in frustration.
Slam…Slam…Slam.
She sat back on her knees with a grin of satisfaction when the glass lay in six good sized pieces. It was enough, and just maybe, she could hide them in his sock drawer or in the pockets of the pool table.
She tightened her grip on the helmet.
Bang.
Went the helmet against the floor.
"How."
Bang.
"Is."
Bang.
"This."
Bang.
"For."
Bang.
"A."
Bang.
"Fucking."
Bang.
"Ride."
Crack.
Went the helmet as it split down the middle.
"Ah," she sighed, tossing it down on the floor with the glass.
She moved to her feet, clasping her hands together as she looked around the room.
And when she stopped at the foot of the stairs, she saw her next victim.
Boom.
Went her gym shoe as she flung it at the painting that seemed to mock her.
An early wedding present, she had definitely jumped the gun on that one, a stupid fucking tribute to their nights on the back of his bike.
"God forsaken wind," she hissed.
Boom…Boom.
Went her other shoe and the painting as it fell to the floor.
"I like this picture, Elizabeth," she mimicked, her jaw tightening as she hurried up the stairs. "I love you so much, Elizabeth."
"Ah, well, good fucking luck with that," she cried, kicking the canvas with her foot.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Went the wooden backing as the picture rolled down the stairs, stopping halfway.
"Big surprise. You never could finish anything," she shouted, kicking it again.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Boom.
Went the painting the rest of the way, Elizabeth's feet crashing against the canvas as her feet landed on it after jumping down the stairs.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she screamed so loudly that Milo swung the door open again.
She moved hurriedly, jerking the painting from beneath her feet, flinging it at him.
Clack.
Went the painting as it hit the closing door.
"Stupid fucking guards," she hissed, kicking it towards the door.
She continued muttering to herself as she paced back and forth across the room.
"…my best friend and I have to be there…"
"…working late…leaving town…"
"….don't have to marry him, but…."
"…I love you and when this is all over…"
"Ah, shit," she hissed, jerking open the closet door.
It was now or never.
She pushed past her various coats and his jacket, digging for the suitcase she knew he had tucked in the back.
His jacket.
"Ooo," she said, straightening up and jerking it down from the hanger.
She ran her hands over the cool leather, scolding herself for ever finding it attractive and charming.
"Never trust a man in leather," she muttered to herself, pulling open the top drawer and grabbing the scissors she knew would be there.
She tossed the jacket down on the desk.
Riiip.
Went the scissors as she started at the sleeve and made her way up.
"Stupid, stupid jacket," she murmured, frowning as she counted the number of times that very jacket had been draped over her shoulders. Or all the times she'd wrapped herself up in it while he was away simply because she missed him.
Riiiip.
Went the scissors as she cut across the back.
She wasn't sure why she missed his smell so much. Yes, she told herself, she wasn't sure why she missed the scent of a man who stunk so very, very much.
The door opened behind her again and she tightened her grip on the scissors. "Milo, you son of a bitch," she hissed turning around, holding the scissors out. "I told you-"
She narrowed her fiery blue eyes, folding her arms across her chest. "Look who finally decided to come home."
Jason raised his eyebrows, his gaze lingering on the scissors that were still pointing at him. "Elizabeth."
"Elizabeth," she mimicked, shaking the scissors off from her hand and slamming them down on his torn up jacket.
"Oh, hello," she said, putting on a pleasant smile when she saw Johnny O'Brien's head appear int eh doorway. "It's nice to see you, husband."
She glanced back at Jason as she made her way over to the stairs. "I hope you don't mind," she said, wrinkling up her face. "I did some redecorating. This place needed a lift."
Stomp.
Stomp.
Stomp.
Stomp.
Stomp.
Stomp.
Stomp.
Stomp.
Went her feet up the stairs.
Stomp…Stomp…Stomp…Stomp…Stomp…Slam.
Went her feet down the hallway, followed by the sound of their bedroom door.
Jason took a deep breath, her eyes swinging around the room at the damaged that had been done.
"You think she's trying to tell you something?" Johnny asked, closing the door behind them.
He grunted, tilting his head towards his friend as he ran a hand over his tired face. "Yeah, I think she wants a divorce."