I woke up and it was cold. It was cold and I couldn't move my arms.
Straightjacket. . .
"Fuck," I muttered, or at least tried to. It came out sounding more like a frog croaking than anything else. Funny, I'm starting to sound like that asthmatic little wimp again. Better stop that.
"Wonderful language, Lex." My father. Oh, Christ. This is exactly how I wanted him to see me. The last thing in the world that I needed was my dad looking at me in a goddamn mental hospital.
"What are you doing here?"
"Visiting my son," he explained. I opened my eyes. The lights were really bright, too bright I though, but what can you do about that. Who was I going to complain to? Mr. Straightjacket? Or even better maybe Mr. Sedative.
"Since when do you give a damn about me?" The frog voice sill lingered. I couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since I had last spoken anything. All I remembered was Clark, and then-my head hurt.
"I have always cared for you." Dad dropped to his knees next to me. He ran a hand over my head. "I have always cared very deeply for you."
Oh no. Not this again. Please God anything but this.
"Dad, no." I begged. But it was too late. He always got what he wanted. He always just took it.
"Now just relax, Lex. This will all be over shortly. I'm sure you remember." How could I forget? It all started when I was. . . I don't know. I can always remember him doing this. One of the nannies said I was a pain in the ass to get potty trained I was about four by the time I got out of diapers. So he's probably been doing this to me all my life.
When I was little and he would do this all the time it was easy to slip away. I had this whole fantasy world in my mind. I would dream about comics, pretending I was in one. In comics everything was simple. The good guy always won. The bad guy was always defeated at the end of the episode. Once in a while you got a two parter but even then you knew it would turn out okay.
In real life nothing was that simple. In real life my father always came back. I tried concentrating on Clark. At least I knew he would never ever hurt me like this.
Clark.
Where was he? Why wasn't he here? It had seemed that lately Clark Kent had been my own personal guardian angle. So how come he wasn't here? How come he wasn't protecting me from my dad? Why? It wasn't fair. Nobody ever protected me from him; I was starting to think that nobody, not even Clark, could.
"Dad," I whimpered. "Please."
"Shhhhh, just relax, Lex. I'm almost finished."
And then he was.
And it was all over.
At least, until he decided to come back again. I bit down on my lip to keep from crying. I always used to cry. I hated that part most of all. I hated that he saw me like that. Luthors aren't supposed to show weakness. That's what my father always said. He didn't even pull up my pants for me in those days. He just left me lying there in bed, half naked and completely embarrassed. Ha, ha, ha get the joke? Okay, so maybe comedy doesn't work for me. Then he would lean over and whisper in my ear. He always said the same thing.
"And what do you say if mommy, or anyone else finds out what happened to you?"
"Somebody grabbed me when I was coming home from school I didn't see his face." I could barely speak back then, through the tears. Then he would kiss the back of my neck. He does it again.
"Good boy," he whispered, both in the old days and again now.
At least today he pulled my jeans back up. This time he at least leaves me in a dignified position. As dignified as you can be in a straight jacket anyway.
"See you later, Lex ." He leaves the room, shutting off the light. Only, today there are no lights for him to switch off. At least the closet monsters can't creep out and get me today. I wish Clark were here. God. I hate my father.
Straightjacket. . .
"Fuck," I muttered, or at least tried to. It came out sounding more like a frog croaking than anything else. Funny, I'm starting to sound like that asthmatic little wimp again. Better stop that.
"Wonderful language, Lex." My father. Oh, Christ. This is exactly how I wanted him to see me. The last thing in the world that I needed was my dad looking at me in a goddamn mental hospital.
"What are you doing here?"
"Visiting my son," he explained. I opened my eyes. The lights were really bright, too bright I though, but what can you do about that. Who was I going to complain to? Mr. Straightjacket? Or even better maybe Mr. Sedative.
"Since when do you give a damn about me?" The frog voice sill lingered. I couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since I had last spoken anything. All I remembered was Clark, and then-my head hurt.
"I have always cared for you." Dad dropped to his knees next to me. He ran a hand over my head. "I have always cared very deeply for you."
Oh no. Not this again. Please God anything but this.
"Dad, no." I begged. But it was too late. He always got what he wanted. He always just took it.
"Now just relax, Lex. This will all be over shortly. I'm sure you remember." How could I forget? It all started when I was. . . I don't know. I can always remember him doing this. One of the nannies said I was a pain in the ass to get potty trained I was about four by the time I got out of diapers. So he's probably been doing this to me all my life.
When I was little and he would do this all the time it was easy to slip away. I had this whole fantasy world in my mind. I would dream about comics, pretending I was in one. In comics everything was simple. The good guy always won. The bad guy was always defeated at the end of the episode. Once in a while you got a two parter but even then you knew it would turn out okay.
In real life nothing was that simple. In real life my father always came back. I tried concentrating on Clark. At least I knew he would never ever hurt me like this.
Clark.
Where was he? Why wasn't he here? It had seemed that lately Clark Kent had been my own personal guardian angle. So how come he wasn't here? How come he wasn't protecting me from my dad? Why? It wasn't fair. Nobody ever protected me from him; I was starting to think that nobody, not even Clark, could.
"Dad," I whimpered. "Please."
"Shhhhh, just relax, Lex. I'm almost finished."
And then he was.
And it was all over.
At least, until he decided to come back again. I bit down on my lip to keep from crying. I always used to cry. I hated that part most of all. I hated that he saw me like that. Luthors aren't supposed to show weakness. That's what my father always said. He didn't even pull up my pants for me in those days. He just left me lying there in bed, half naked and completely embarrassed. Ha, ha, ha get the joke? Okay, so maybe comedy doesn't work for me. Then he would lean over and whisper in my ear. He always said the same thing.
"And what do you say if mommy, or anyone else finds out what happened to you?"
"Somebody grabbed me when I was coming home from school I didn't see his face." I could barely speak back then, through the tears. Then he would kiss the back of my neck. He does it again.
"Good boy," he whispered, both in the old days and again now.
At least today he pulled my jeans back up. This time he at least leaves me in a dignified position. As dignified as you can be in a straight jacket anyway.
"See you later, Lex ." He leaves the room, shutting off the light. Only, today there are no lights for him to switch off. At least the closet monsters can't creep out and get me today. I wish Clark were here. God. I hate my father.