Chapter One
Someone passing by Shelby Charbonnau wouldn't have looked twice at her except perhaps to comment that she was a rugged looking girl. Her impromptu journey to Port Charles hadn't given her time to hit the spa or the salon as it appeared most Port Charles citizens did on a weekly basis. She watched the people trickle by from her seat in the bus station. It was as if she had jumped into a television show where every person was costumed and primped and paid a small fortune for the duty of walking through the bus station.
Shelby liked to think she was attractive, too. At the age of fifteen, she was exactly five foot five inches tall and her weight was well proportioned. She had a head full of brown corkscrew curls that were naturally thick and always managed to look messy, but for the purpose of her trip, they were pulled up under a denim baseball cap. She was wearing the same clothes she had been wearing for her entire three day journey- a green and white flannel shirt and carpenter jeans. It was typical attire for teenagers in her hometown of Petoskey, Michigan, but obviously she hadn't been reading the same fashion magazines as Port Charles teens. The few she had seen in the bus station were dressed like super models and were built like them, too.
She clutched her old duffel bag and her back pack close to her. The two pieces of luggage held all of her wordly possessions. From the pocket of the backpack, she pulled out a faded photograph of a grinning seven-year-old girl. The little girl was dressed in a pink ruffled dress that had a nasty gras stain down the front, but it was all the family could afford for special occassions. Perhaps Momma could have paid for nice clothes if she hadn't spent all of her welfare money on drugs and beer. "Oh, Shannon," Shelby spoke softly to the photograph. "I miss you."
From the same pocket, Shelby fished out another photograph. She remembered the day she had snuck into her mother's room and pulled it from its rightful place in her underwear drawer. It was the only picture Momma had of the man, and it was a shame. He was mighty fine looking, and to be more analytical, he looked a lot like Shelby. Or vice versa.
She would find this man. She would find him and she would make him pay for what he did to Shannon. She would make him pay for destroying their family, and for making Shelby grow up too fast. She would make him pay for the years of abuse she had suffered at the hands of her crazy mother.
He would pay.
She had traced him back to Port Charles, where he was living with his so-called girlfriend. Shelby wondered how long this courtship would last, and if it would lead to the same hell as Shelby's life. 'Daddy' would have to face what he did. She would make him.
She stood up and, with bags in hand, she headed to the nearest pay phone. She flipped through the C's, but didn't find anyone under that surname. Cursing under her breath, she headed out of the bus station and into the ten o'clock P.M. air. She would have to find a hotel and hope they would admit her on cash alone. If not, it would be another night on the streets.
It certainly wouldnt' be her first.
She walked up the street with revenge on her mind and wondered how this fun little scenario would play out...
...and how He would Pay.
Chapter Two
Lark Madison didn't really enjoy parties. For some reason, they brought back memories of the parties her mother's boyfriends would hold at their house. The men would get drunk, and they would hurt her in every way a pre-teen girl can be hurt. Sometimes she would cry and scream and curse, and sometimes she would just wimper silently while they derive their pleasures at her expense.
This party wasn't for any sort of pleasure. She needed an escape. She hadn't exactly been invited, but all the seniors from PC High were attending and no one was collecting RSVPs. She swayed her body to the music of Third Eye Blind in the middle of the crowd while taking miserable slurps of her drink, and her mind drifted back to the conversation she had had earlier with Frank.
-----
"Frank, you can't do this to me!" Lark felt the tears fill her eyes, but she fought them back. "You're all the family I have."
"Lark, you're eighteen now. You can go out on your own. You can get your own life. You don't need me to play daddy to you." Frank's voice was calm. Too calm. This was premeditated, Lark knew, and she had a feeling Frank's new girlfriend Karen was behind it.
"So you're throwing me out," Lark folded her arms. "Just because I'm eighteen doesn't mean I don't love you like a parent anymore. Please, I'm begging you. Sign the adoption papers. I can help out around the house. I can help with the new baby."
"That's just it, Lark. You shouldn't be thinking about house chores or babies. You should be thinking about college and building a career. Karen and I have a baby on the way, but we can handle it."
Lark bit her lip. "That's what this is about. You don't care about me anymore because you have your own child now. You never loved me! You just loved the idea of being a daddy."
"Lark--"
"No!" She pulled away from his arms as he tried to hug her. "You NEVER loved me! No one ever did! No one!" She ran from the house, swearing never to go back.
-----
"Lark?"
She snapped back to the present. The party. Her friend Samantha was snapping her fingers in front of her. "What?"
"Lark, you're really taking down the drinks tonight. Is everything okay?"
The room was swirling. The music was too loud, way too loud. "I'm fine. I have to get out of here."
Samantha steadied her. "You're not driving like this."
"Watch me," Lark shoved her away and stalked out of the party. No one loved her in there, and no one loved her at the Scanlon house. Jake had never loved her, and neither had her mother. No one. She was alone now.
She coasted the car down the road, trying not to cry and trying to keep her eyes focused. Maybe she shouldn't have taken off. She was having a hard time driving for some reason.
She pressed her foot to the gas. She would leave town, that's what she would do. She would speed that car out of town and never turn back.
Everything was swirling, spinning, flying. She could still hear the music from the party in her head. She didn't see the pedestrian coming until it was way too late.
Then she passed out.
Chapter Three
Frank shoved the ER doors open as he and two other EMT's wheeled the stretcher in. The girl was a bloody mess, whoever she was.
Frank let the doctors take over as the events of the night flew through his mind. He was on duty when he had gotten the call. A drunk driver had hit a pedestrian-- a teenage girl-- outside of the bus station. The drunk driver, he later discovered, was Lark.
The girl that had been hit was fighting for her life. Thankfully, the head injury was very minor. A mild concussion, at most. The bad news was that two ribs had broken and had punctured her lung. In addition to that, her liver had been lacerated and she had lost a lot of blood. She would have to undergo two major surgeries immediately, and she would be extremely lucky if she survived that.
Lark's injuries were very minimal, but she was being examined nonetheless. Frank sank into one of the waiting room chairs. She had been passed out drunk in the car when they found her. Drunk. He didn't even want to think about it.
Across town in the PCPD HQ, Garcia went through the two bags that the poor kid had been carrying when she got hit. They were filled with mostly clothing and some hygenic items, but in the pocket of the backpack, he found a few noteworthy items. He looked at the two photographs and reached for his phone. "This is Detective Garcia with the PCPD. I need to speak with a doctor on the case of the young woman who was hit by a car this evening."
Moments later, Karen came onto the line. "This is Dr. Wexler."
"Have you identified the car accident victim yet?"
Karen paused briefly. "No, she wasn't carrying any identification."
"All right. Well, I'll work on it. I think I have a lead." Garcia ended the call and punched in another number. The phone rang, and a man answered. "Kevin, this is Detective Garcia. I need to see you at head quarters ASAP... Because I have an unidentified car accident victim who was carrying around a nice photograph of you."