Burning the Ties That Bind
Part I: Run
Her heart was pounding in her chest, a steady, heavy, frightening rhythm that seemed to echo throughout her body, matching the pounding of a million hammers inside of her head. She offered her very best friend, who she hadn't seen in what seemed like a hundred years, the brightest smile she knew how to fake. The same smile that they always bought, the one that seemed to scream out how happy she was, the one that made her face feel like cracking in rebellion to her lies.
His hand was wrapped tightly around hers, his grip growing tighter by the second, the longer she stood there, the harder the pounding in her fingertips became, the more they begged for blood to be allowed to enter them again. Finally, her body sighed unhappily and followed behind him like a little, lost, lovesick puppy. He released her hand to wrap his arm around her waist, and she fought the urge to flinch when his hand rested none to lightly where his foot had landed just last night. She was officially a little, lost, lovesick puppy who had been kicked one too many times while begging for love and adoration.
She needed professional help. The thought echoed through her mind, carried on the headache and the blood pounding in her veins. The dull ache in her lower back grew, her knees began to weaken, the shoulder that had taken the most of her weight last night began to burn, her injured elbow joined in the pounding, and she knew at that moment, her body was telling her that it agreed with the thought her brain had processed without her permission.
Ah, her mind screamed joyfully when they came to a stop in front of the door, allowing the tall, well built man to pass through and enter before they attempted to leave again, take the chance, take it, take it, take it.
Elizabeth smiled politely, the smile she had learned to perfect, his hand pressed harder onto the bruise on her hip when he registered where her eyes had landed. A silent threat, a dare only she knew was being made, a bet she was either too stupid or too smart to take him up on. "Lieutenant Taggert," she mumbled softly, politely, before allowing her wonderful, loving, sweet, caring, abusive, asshole husband to lead her away from her would be hero without another sound.
"Elizabeth," Lucky ground out through his clenched teeth as they exited Kelly's and were once again alone. She frowned at just how quickly her loving, wonderful Lucky disappeared under the moon and became a monster that wanted nothing more than to chain her to him, play a fun little game of cat and mouse, and break her as only he could. Did he even know that it didn't hurt as badly when he hit her as that fact that he would hit her hurt? Or was that all part of his game?
"Yes, Lucky?" she asked, her voice holding none of the sarcasm, irony, or hatred that she felt for the man she loved. The response was a trained one, drilled into her mind as proper after one too many times of having her cheek clash with his open palm after answering any differently. It was amazing just how fake her voice sounded to her own ears, just how odd this entire experience had been for the last few months.
"I saw you looking at Emily."
"She's my friend, Lucky. I wanted to talk to her, I haven't seen her in over a year." Sometimes it was like she was watching herself through a pair of sunglasses from the other side of the room, shaking her head and wondering what in the world that poor soul was doing bound and gagged with a man that couldn't understand love with a 2,000 page instruction manual, a map of how to get to it, and a fucking script of lines to say and ways to act.
He deliberately pressed his fingertips hard into the place he knew a deep purple bruise lay on her poor, undeserving hip. His frown deepened when he saw that she once again refused to flinch. "You don't need her, Elizabeth. All we need is each other. That's what love is, it's needing no one else but the person that loves you, the person that you love. And you do love me. Don't you, Elizabeth?"
"Yes, Lucky," she giggled. "Of course I love you, sweetheart. I love you with everything I am, mind, body, and soul. We're a permanent lock. Remember?"
Lucky smiled down at her brightly, pressing his lips to hers roughly, reopening the cut on her lip. When he pulled back, he licked her blood off of his own lips, still smiling. "Then you'll never talk to Emily again."
"But, Lucky-"
He pulled her into the ally before she could even start to speak. Upon hearing her words, his hand clenched into a fist, landed square in the center of her stomach, causing her to double over and stop speaking as she fought to regain her breath. "I said, you'll never talk to Emily again."
Elizabeth stood up straight again, holding onto her ribs tightly, refusing to let him see the pain her sudden movement had caused, she leaned her head back against the dirty brick wall, and sighed very unhappily. "Fuck you. I'll talk to whoever I want!" Oh, how wonderful rebellion felt, her heart actually jumped to her throat in happiness.
His fist met her jaw this time, snapping her head to the side. "I said," he growled. "that you will never speak to Emily or anyone else again. Do we understand each other. The only person that gets to hear your beautiful voice is me, Elizabeth. Do we understand each other? If not, you're free to leave right now."
A step was taken, a step away from him, a step closer to being out of the ally. But he didn't understand her step, like she didn't understand her hesitation. "Babe, come on, we both know that without me you're nothing. All you are, is Lucky Spencer's Wife, you leave, and you lose the title. How many people do you think would care about you then? You're nothing without me, Elizabeth. I'm your life. No one gave a damn before you were my girlfriend, and no one is going to give a damn about you after."
She was going to be sick. She was going to throw up all over his well shined shoes. This, she remembered, is the price for rebellion, for thinking by herself. And damn how the honesty hidden in his hurtful, hate filled words stung. "Yes, Lucky," she giggled, receiving a brilliant smile from the man she loathed. She slipped seamlessly back into the mold of who he wanted her to be, it was almost, almost funny how easy it was to smile when she wanted to kick, scream and cry, when she felt like her soul was being ripped to shreds inside of her.
Lucky Spencer claimed her hand again, tightening his fingers around hers with crushing force. He led her toward their car, a stupid grin on his face and a joyful, vacant look in his eyes. They were going home, to their home again. "I love you, Mrs. Spencer," he whispered to her sweetly.
"I love you, Mr. Spencer." Elizabeth heard the giggle once again escape her lips, and sighed to herself before wondering when a good time to give up on ever regaining some sort of herself would be. She blinked back the insistent tears in her eyes. She slipped soundlessly into the leather car seat when he opened the door for her. Her seatbelt followed, and she placed her hand on his knee the moment he sat, knowing it was expected of her.
The ride to their house was uneventful, boring by all accounts. Nothing happened, no words were spoke. Just his stupid grins and her staring longingly out at the world that passed by outside the car window. The world that sang and danced and played and laughed at her for being bound to a man she wanted so desperately to still be madly in love with. The sane, rational part of her that had whispered run, run, from the first time he hit her was locked away safely inside her head, forced to watch without the ability to control her actions.
Run, run, run, the word seemed to grow strength each time it was hissed in a dangerous tone inside of her mind. One day, she realized, that voice would be screaming, run, run, run, run… When would she listen? Would it be just a day too late? Run, run… She glanced at her husband when he opened the door for her once again, holding out his hand to assist her. Run, run, run, run, run, run, run…
Elizabeth took his hand, smiling brightly, she pressed her lips to his, kissing him with everything she was in the driveway of their two story home out in the middle of nowhere, away from Port Charles and anyone she knew. They were so far away from anything that even remotely resembled her life. "I love you, Lucky," she whispered quietly when she pulled away, unaware of the tears that were once again brimming in her eyes. "I don't want to lose you."
"You won't," he said reassuringly, stroking her hair away from her face, ignoring the whimper of pain when he hit the large bump on the back of her head. "We're going to be together until death do us part." Lucky released her, turning away and walking up the wood steps of their porch to unlock their front door.
Run, run, run, run, run, run… "That's what I'm afraid of," she whispered into the night, wiping away the tear that had fallen. Run, run, run… Elizabeth shivered when the wind blew, forcing her to step forward, close the car door, and move slowly, painfully toward to door that would lead her into their living room. Run, run, run, run…
"Elizabeth," he called out softly, standing just inside the doorway, the lights from the house surrounding him, leaving him to look like little more than a shadow. Lucky smiled at her again, as he turned on the porch light. "You look like you want some time to think. Why don't I make you some hot chocolate, and you can make yourself comfortable on the swing out here, I know you love to sit out here and think."
Run, run, run… There were times, times like these, where she could almost let herself believe that he was her Lucky again. That they were safe, happy and in love, that he'd never raise a hand to her or hurt her in anyway. Her smile was real, lighting up her face. "That sounds wonderful," she whispered in response, as if afraid that if she spoke louder whatever spell that had been cast over him to turn him back into the man she loved would be broken.
Lucky nodded, his smile still bright and shinning in the dim light. "Just make yourself comfortable then, 'Lizabeth. I'll make your hot chocolate and bring you your sketch pad. Maybe that will help you."
She walked up the steps softly, her eyes still shinning. A smile still playing on her lips at the memories how much she used to love it when he called her that. She pressed her lips against his again. "I love you so much."
"I love you, too." He turned around, leaving her there on the porch, the door still standing open in the early spring night air. Allowing her a moment to decide for sure between inside or outside.
Elizabeth remained outside, her smile diminishing quickly. Run, run, run… What would the point in running be though? Hadn't she learned the last dozen times that she packed her bags and threatened to leave that running did no good unless he ran with her? Because she always came back, the chains he had her on held her tight. Her shackles always led him right back to her. Run, run, run, run…
She sat on the wooden swing, carefully avoiding hitting her hip, nearly groaning as her aching body resisted the movements. Elizabeth knew, somewhere inside of her, that she was too young to feel this way. Too young to be bound so tightly she could barely breath, she shouldn't feel this old. Run, run, run… Freedom seemed impossible, another unreachable dream.
A sketchpad and pencil were placed wordlessly in her lap. The boy putting them there smiling at her, looking at her, his eyes looking once again like the eyes of the boy she fell in love with. He picked the drawing utensils up again, sitting them to the side as he pulled the throw blanket off the back of the swing and tucked it in around her, warding off the chill. Lucky kissed her forehead before turning around and walking back inside, never speaking to her.
Times like that, moments when she could feel his love for her coming off of him in waves, that made it worth all the other times. Didn't it? Should it matter that the times he hit her far outweighed the times he held her gently, lovingly, just because he could, just because he loved her? Didn't the times he'd kiss her and make love to her and treat her like the only woman on the planet that mattered to him make the times he called her dirt and kicked her irrelevant?
Elizabeth picked up the sketch pad, flipping through it she saw half a dozen unfinished sketches, she hadn't even picked up a paint brush since they moved it all from her studio and into an extra bedroom in the house. Lucky hadn't wanted her to stay at her studio, he'd rather have her close to him. So he could control her, she thought sometimes. Other times, she actually let herself believe that he loved her too much to want her to spend five minutes away from him.
Finally finding a blank page, she brought her knees up to rest the sketchpad on them while she drew, the trees waving at the moon, the stars twinkling with happiness, the new leaves, just starting to grow, dancing in the wind. She drew absently, not letting her mind drift to the wind.
She couldn't allow herself to think about the wind, about the man that gave her to wind. The freedom of feeling like she was flying as she clung onto him for dear life on the back of his motorcycle going way too fast around the curves, the way she felt like she could touch the sky, rearrange the stars or bring them back to earth, the way that Heaven was always right there, a breath away her, trying to rescue her from herself and the man that would be the death of her. Nope. No thinking of the wind, or Jason, or how right he was. Not tonight.
The smell of hot chocolate entered her senses, she smiled up at the man standing in front of her brightly, taking the mug between her hands, letting it warm her freezing fingers. "Thank you," Elizabeth mumbled. "For everything."
Lucky found her lips, kissed her roughly once again. "I'm going to bed," he grunted. "Be up there in half an hour at the latest. Got it?"
She bit down on her lip and nodded. Flinching when he raised his hand. "Yes, Lucky," she said quickly. Too quickly. A trained response, she was a well trained lapdog. Run, run, run, run, run, run, run… "I'll be up soon. I just want to work on this sketch. Maybe actually finish it."
"Whatever," he groaned, turning away from her and walking inside, slamming the door behind him.
Elizabeth flinched again at the sound, letting her eyes stay on the closed door for a second longer before taking a sip of her steaming hot chocolate and forcing her attention back to the drawing in her hand. She sat the mug down on the wood porch, swinging lightly in the breeze. She looked up at the site before her again, then back to the half done picture in her lap, she raised her pencil and drew furiously. She pushed her sleeves up when they got in her way, revealing the light yellow fingerprints that surrounded them like some sort of morbid, painful bracelet.
How dare he, she thought. How dare he order me to be in bed in half an hour. How dare he order me around, how dare he claim to love me, how dare he hit me, how dare he… How dare he change from a sweet loving boy that hurt if I hurt to a man that lets my feelings go as long as he feels powerful and content. How dare he claim that I'm the only one that has changed. How dare he still go by Lucky. He was not Lucky anymore, not her Lucky, not the Lucky she loved with all her heart. And how dare he do something sweet for her only to turn around and expect it to not only make up for everything he's said and done, but also count for something that she should pay back. How dare he think so little of her. How dare he.
Her lines were dark, her pencil pressed hard into the paper, probably marking two pages down with indentions. She stopped suddenly as a tear fell onto the paper, blurring one new leaf into another, wrinkling the paper, and unlocking the floodgates. Another tear fell, then another. How dare he make her cry again. How dare he break that promise. Elizabeth tossed the paper aside, burying her face into her knees she sobbed quietly, knowing better than to let him hear her crying, not daring to let him know she shed tears from him still.
Just when she thought she couldn't cry anymore, when the pain and frustration of her life had faded into one big weight on her shoulders and a blur she couldn't make take shape, she was sitting on the porch crying again. How dare he still hurt her. Run, run, run, run, run, that voice grew louder, speaking now. Daring her, challenging her, telling her it was the only way that she'd ever be free.
Free. God, she wanted nothing more than to untie herself from this man. She wanted the wind, she wanted to fly, she wanted to be allowed to speak and to think on her own. She wanted to be able to paint, to draw, to think without him telling her what it was she should be thinking of. She was shackled, tied, wrapped up, bound, enclosed inside of the fist that he ruled her with. A prisoner to the belt he used to beat her, the boots he wore everytime he wanted to kick her. Elizabeth Webber was lost somewhere inside a complacent little girl that did nothing but smile and nod for fear of the punishment of doing otherwise. And today was just another day that she'd woken up to stare in the mirror and wonder who the hell the person looking back at her was.
Wouldn't Daddy be proud of me now, she thought warily. I've become everything he always wanted me to be. Someone that followed the rules, obeyed orders, didn't talk back, didn't think for herself, didn't argue or fight for justice. When had she become whipped into a person she hated? How long had it taken for her to become everything she swore she'd never be?
She picked up the sketch pad again, flipped over to a fresh piece of paper. Anger filled every fiber of her being, and she didn't know what possessed her to write words instead of draw another picture, she didn't know why she was putting words that Lucky would probably kill her for even thinking on paper where he could find them, read them. Rebellion, sometimes, was worth the price, and maybe one day she'd regain herself, her freedom could be her prize. Reading over the few short sentences, Elizabeth felt her eyes tear again, honesty drowning every part of her. She stood quickly, knocking over the mug of hot chocolate, and threw the pad of paper as far as she could like she'd throw a Frisbee.
Elizabeth ran inside the house, slamming the door behind her, knowing she'd get in trouble for it, and some part of her not caring. He was awake, staring at the clock, waiting for her, silently daring her to be a second later than what he said he would allow. She threw her clothes off as she walked up the stairs. Her coat over the banisher, her shirt on the top step, her shoes and socks near the door to their bedroom.
She could feel his eyes upon her when she stepped inside their room, she could almost see them glow as she undressed herself from clothes that weren't her as she walked toward the bathroom without stopping for him the way he thought she was going too. Her pants were undone, and she pushed them off her hips, leaning against the frame of the doorway as she pulled them completely off. She heard the bed groan when he shifted his weight to stand and walk toward her, so she walked inside and closed the door, cursing silently that there wasn't a lock.
Her eyes fell to her reflection in the full length mirror, nearly naked, most of her bruises could be seen. Her legs were cut, her hip a deeper purple than she had suspected. The yellow on her wrists changed, went to green a little further up her arm, then blue on her biceps. If she turned around, she knew without a doubt, her shoulder would be purple. A cut along her hairline probably should have had stitches when it happened, it was scabbing over, almost like it was giving her the finger. She'd have another scar. Her flat stomach also had all the basic colors of bruises covered, from yellow, to green, to blue, to nearly black. Her ribs were undoubtedly bruised as well, she knew by now what it felt like when they were. She could tell without an x-ray if they were simply bruised or cracked. And maybe, just maybe that should have been the final straw.
The door flew open to her right, and she didn't cringe, didn't show any outward signs that she noticed. Not until he stepped up behind her and her eyes met his in the mirror. "How could you do this to me, Lucky? How could you hurt me like this?"
"You deserved it," he growled, unapologetic for the bruises, cuts, and scrapes that covered her, marked her. Maybe he even enjoyed the way they seemed to brand her as his in his eyes. He grabbed her chin, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, turning her head to bring her lips to his in a savage kiss that held no warmth or love, only hunger.
Elizabeth bit down hard on his tongue when he forced his way into her mouth, the taste of blood, the very familiar taste, entered her mouth, swirled, and she bit him again, harder. He cried out and stepped back. "What the fuck did you do that for you stupid bitch?" He spit blood into the sink.
She shrugged innocently. "You deserved it." He slapped her, sending her head flying to the side, hitting to mirror with almost enough force to crack it. And she only chuckled. "Come on, Lucky… You can do better than that."
Grabbing a fist full of hair, he pulled her head back. "Damn straight I can. I can kill you where you stand."
"Do it," Elizabeth hiss through the pain. "Kill me. I dare you."