Burning the Ties That Bind
Part II: Survival
Lucky's shock didn't register on his face, instead he smiled down at her, his grin ugly and tainted with colors of hate and distaste, of bitterness and anger at having the power of his threat diminish before his very eyes. The sound of her voice, strong and sure, seemed to echo in the white tiled bathroom again and again, until his laughter joined in the mix of the phantom sound. His laugher that was every bit as ugly as his cocky smirk.
"Now, now, Elizabeth… You know that if I did that now it would ruin all the fun I can have with you later." He turned quickly, taking her with him, pinning her between the cold tile counter, sparkling white just the way he liked it, and his own hard body. His lips crashed with hers, breaking the skin again, leaving her as the one bleeding this time. Lucky released the fist full of hair only to press his hand into the bruise on her hip. "I love you," he whispered as he broke away, trailing hot, sticky, unwanted kisses across her jaw. He couldn't help but nip the growing bruise with his teeth, marveling for a moment in the things he could force her to do with his fist.
"Well I hate you. And I don't want you." Her words were hard, they held a strength she herself did not. Elizabeth could almost feel her heart cracking inside of her chest. Lucky, her Lucky, had just failed the final test. She was pressed more firmly into the counter when she spoke the words, the cool temperature of tile kissing against the bruises on her lower back while the tore into her skin and sent a shiver up her spine. A shiver she didn't allow him to feel. "I want a divorce."
Once again his laughter spread through the bathroom, hit the tile then went flying back to their ears again. "You can't divorce me, Elizabeth. Because if I can't have you no one will. You're mine, and as long as you remain good in the sack then I may just let you live."
Elizabeth raised her knee suddenly, hitting him squarely in the groin and causing him to back off a step as he doubled over. A triumphant smile covered her face as she spit at him. "The only way you'll ever get me in bed again, Lucky, is if you rape me." She tilted her head, as if thinking about what she had just said, and the sudden sadness that filled her wasn't allowed to show, instead she slipped back to the voice he always demanded that she use. "But then, it really wouldn't be that much of a stretch. You've already raped me in every other way, why not make it physical?"
Standing, Lucky lunged at her, sending her flying back into the counter, a crushing force against her spine. Her head was bent back so far she was nearly doubled over backwards, he slammed the back of her head into the counter before slipping his thigh between her legs. "If I want you," he growled. "Then I'll have you. Because you're mine." His voice was almost inhuman at times like these, and she realized suddenly, there had been a lot of times like these.
"You'll never have me," she growled in response to his words. "I belong to me and no one else."
Lucky's smile was quick, like a flash of lightening it struck her then disappeared before she could fully study it. "That's where you're wrong, 'Lisabeth," he whispered on her neck, sending a shiver she couldn't suppress down her spine. And the cocky bastard actually took it as a good thing.
As quickly as he was upon her, he was off, pulling her away from the counter quickly, grabbing her arm and pulling her along as if she was nothing. They reached the door to their bedroom, and he stopped to look back at her. "You never should have started a fight with me. Haven't you learned by now you always lose?"
Elizabeth could only concentrate on the painful way his fingers dug into the bruises on her arms. Her lack of a reply to his words only seemed to fuel his anger further. He slapped the back of his hand across her cheek again with surprising force. "Leave me alone!"
The demand seemed humorous to him, the flash in his eyes made her think of laughter, as if she had told a joke. He pushed her against the frame of the door, the wood digging in and burning her back, causing a whimper to escape her. Where had her strength all gone? Biting on her lip to hold back the sudden urge to cry she looked toward the ground, the dark blue carpet he'd insisted upon had specks of red that she had yet to remove to his satisfaction, hopefully he wouldn't notice.
There was another blow across her cheek. He pulled her against him hard, knocking the breath out of her. "You stupid bitch!" he cried in outrage. Another slap, another pull on her arm, harder this time, back into the bedroom. She didn't fight it, knowing better. Last time she fought it when he yanked her she ended up with a dislocated shoulder. And hospitals asked too many questions. Lucky had stopped allowing her to go.
She was pushed against the wall roughly, the weight was taken on her bruised shoulder, causing her to let out a howl of pain. A tear slid down her cheek. Lucky held her to the wall with one hand and punched her in the stomach with the other as he stepped on her toes. Again she cried out, unable to keep from it despite the satisfaction she knew he would get from it.
Her arm was released, and Elizabeth slide down the frame to sit on the floor. With her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them, she knew she looked weak. Hugging herself, she knew he felt powerful at having reduced her to this. She just stared at the floor tiredly. She was tired, tired of him, tired of this, just tired of life. Then again, she smiled to herself, this really couldn't be considered a life.
He picked her up by her hair, a fist full of what were once vibrate curls filled with life were pulled from her head as she rose once again to her feet. "Elizabeth," he hissed. "Did I say you could sit?"
"No, Lucky," she whispered. Her eyes filling. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I want to be good for you. I want you to love me. I want to be good for you. I want to be perfect because you deserve perfect. You don't deserve any of the horrible things I do to you. I'm sorry, Lucky. I'm sorry. Please, please forgive me. Please don't get the belt again."
Her husband laughed softly, running a finger across her jaw possessively.
No, it wasn't a life. It was a very slow, very painful death. And suddenly not knowing if she wanted to get away or just have him hurry and get it over with scared her. She was aware, somewhere in the back of her mind, that he'd left her there, but she didn't try to move. After all this time, she knew better.
Run, run, run, run, run, the voice screamed. The realization dawned on her when she saw his feet reappear in her eye site. This wasn't about love anymore. This was about survival.
She got to her feet quickly, ignoring the wave of nausea and hoping that would make it pass. "Fuck you," she hissed at his feet. Raising her eyes slowly, she stood up straight, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "Fuck you," Elizabeth repeated, only slightly louder. "I'm getting out of here, Lucky."
"I told you before, Elizabeth," her husband growled. Absently, he wrapped the thin strip of leather that had once been her favorite belt around his bruised fist. "I'll kill you before I let you leave me." He took another step closer, hiding behind a cloud of confusion when she didn't retreat, didn't tear her eyes away from his. "You'll leave over my dead body."
Elizabeth Webber Spencer did something she never thought before she could. She shrugged off the remark carelessly. It hadn't hurt her nearly so much as it used to. Run, run, run… Survive. "Then that's just the way it has to be isn't it?"
He chuckled. "You couldn't hurt me, Elizabeth. You love me too much."
"Obviously," she replied calmly. "Love has nothing to do with it, Lucky. This is about living or dying. And I'm choosing to live."
Snapping the belt, he frowned when she didn't jump. "That's just too damn bad, Lizzie. The only choice you get is whether you take your punishment or fight it. You fight it, and you have to face the consequences."
"What fucking consequences, Lucky? You gonna hit me? Kick me? Slam me into the wall a few more times? Cut me? Make me bleed? Cry? What are you going to do to me that you don't do on a daily basis anyway you sick little shit?" Elizabeth ran her tongue over her lip, not feeling the pain when she hit the cut. Amazingly enough, her voice was calm.
Startling calm from the look on her husband's face. Elizabeth grinned, the pain it caused was brushed aside. She stepped forward. And he retreated a step. "Tell me, Lucky. What the fuck do you think you can do to me now? What, short of killing me, can you actually do to me that you haven't already done? Why don't you just get it over with. Do it, Lucky! Hit me!" She waited for the blow, and it didn't come. "I said hit me you damaged screw up. HIT ME!" Again the blow didn't come. Elizabeth let out a bark of bitter laughter. "Can't do it? Why not? It's no different than the last million fucking times, husband of mine. Where the hell are your balls now, big man? Answer my fucking question."
He didn't.
Elizabeth snorted and stepped around him, she picked up one of his long sleeved t-shirts from the floor and slipped it on over her head. The sleeves just covered her fingertips, and it fell almost to mid-thigh. "Have I mentioned that I want a divorce?"
That snapped him out of it. He stepped up behind her, grabbing a fist full of hair in anger and tilting her head back as far as he could without snapping her beautiful, slender neck. "Have I mentioned that I'll kill you first? What's this new attitude, Lizzie? I told you before I don't like taking shit from you. Knock it off, now. Or you're not going to like what happens next."
When he released her it was with a shove that sent her tumbling to her knees. Lucky grinned wildly. "The kitchen floor needs mopped. Go do it now. And then you'll have to do it again after I made you bleed all over it."
"No." The word came out sharp, defiant, strong. She wasn't backing down.
"Excuse me?"
"I said, no. N-O. It's a very simple word. It has a simple meaning. I would have thought you still had enough of your IQ left after Helena fucking scrambled you brain like eggs to understand the word."
"You're the one that obviously has had their brains scrambled." The back of his hand met her cheek again roughly before she even knew it was coming. "If you honesty think I'm going to take this shit from you, Elizabeth, then you are the one that's fucking messed up in the head. Got it?"
"Got what?"
Again he backhanded her, catching her chin this time, sending her head to the side. "Stop being such a bitch, Elizabeth."
Her laughter surprised him enough to make him step back. "Get the fuck over it, Spencer. I'm out of here."
"No, you get over it, Mrs. Spencer. We're together in this. No matter what."
"Not anymore, Mr. Spencer. I'll send your ass to jail. Or maybe I'll just call Sonny. You think he wouldn't feed you piece by piece to the fucking fish, Lucky? You think he wouldn't chop you up himself for what you do to me? You think if I went and told my good friend Sonny about you that you wouldn't lose a body part for everytime you raised a hand to me?"
Elizabeth turned around again, walking to the closet purposefully and taking the suitcase down easily despite her bruise ribs. She wasn't feeling any pain. And whether it was because she was beyond it or because of shock she didn't know. Without pausing she started throwing clothes into the suitcase the minute it was opened.
But Lucky stepped up behind her, each end of the thin leather belt still clutched tightly in each hand. "You're my wife," he growled. "You belong with me, and to me. And I'm not letting you walk out of here."
With that the leather was slipped in front of her, and before she knew what was happening – she couldn't breathe.
He was strangling her, and she didn't have the strength to fight him. Her hands were barely pulling on his, trying to force him to release her. Her fingernails dug into his skin uselessly, he didn't feel it in the rush he was suddenly getting. God, this rush, this power… He loved it… he craved it.
And Elizabeth was reminded by that damn persistent voice in her head – this was about survival.
