Chapter two: Why I really don't hate Valentine's Day
Summary: Elizabeth Corinthos muses on why the Feast of St. Valentine isn't so horrible
A/N: Keep in mind that this is an AH, and that I am scewing GH's timeline as well as the circumstances that surrounded Elizabeth's rape in 1998. Elizabeth was seventeen when Tom Baker attacked her on Valentine's Day; she and Lucky were a couple but, in this chapter, are broken up; Jason Morgan is who finds Elizabeth alone and broken in the bushes.
X-X-X-X-X
Prompt: Cupid's aim is still pretty good
Tom Baker stole my virginity, my innocence and, very nearly, my soul on Valentine's Day.
I was seventeen years old and sitting on a bench in the park after hours, eating popcorn. Mom would've been proud of my choice of snack food. I'd given my guards the slip and was killing time, waiting until the eleven o'clock hour when I could waltz into the Lake House gushing about my night, and just how great it had been.
How that trip to Wyndams, the manicure, pedicure and fancy hairdo had all been worth it. It'll only be a matter of time, Mom, before Lucky Spencer was falling to his knees worshipping the goddess that was me, Elizabeth Corinthos.
We'd broken up the week before, but now I wanted him back. He was Emily's escort for the night. They were planning to meet for dinner at Kelly's. I had planned to crash their dinner and guilt him into escorting both of us to the dance.
Fat chance….
Lucky was by now probably sticking his tongue down the throat of the epitome of blonde perfection known as Sarah Webber. Getting the girl and thumbing his nose at his brother, my cousin.
He had backed out of dinner at the last, calling to beg off. Emily only shrugged - she didn't mind going stag and I tagged along, only to see my ex-boyfriend in an intimate tete a tete with the bane of my existence.
Common sense prevented me from causing a scene bad enough to get me expelled from yet another school. Pride prevented me from going home.
But I'm not bitter, I concluded as I tossed the bag away. I'm a Corinthos. I'll get even. I stood up, and then that son-of-a bitch pounced.
So, if on Valentine's Day Tom Baker stole my virginity, my innocence, and every year since then hadn't been a walk in the park what with fires, numerous gun battles and a train wreck, you'd reckon a girl would want to crawl into a hole every year and stay put 'til the fifteenth, right?
Wrong.
I'm not most girls… given who my father is, even without Tom Baker, my innocence probably wouldn't have lasted very long.
But that's all beside the point. I can stomach it, 'cause I'm strong, 'cause even though that sick bastard stole something so precious from me, he couldn't grab my heart, he couldn't taint my soul.
Everything good within me is saved for the man at the bar in black leather: Jason Morgan. The man who had picked my bruised and broken body up from the frozen ground, dried my tears, and helped me put myself back together so long ago. The man who, on Valentine's Day two years earlier on my nineteenth birthday, had given it all back to me in the most fundamental way and gifted me with a girl's best friend.
Diamonds?
No. My first real orgasm. And he wasn't, and still isn't, stingy.
He, too, gave me a little of himself. A gift so precious, one that I have no intentions of relinquishing.
So, it's official: this day ain't so bad.
Tom Baker's in jail, ruing the day he decided to quite literally fuck with the wrong person. I'm not in the hospital, I'm staying well away from the Elm Street Pier, and I don't have any plans to leave the city anytime soon, so I should be safe.
Now, if only the blonde at the bar would look over to the door. He does, and a fire ignites in those fuck-me blue eyes.
I'm comin' honey, and soon you will be, too. I hope you like what I've got on under this trench coat...
tbc...
