How I Got Here
It's strange really. I've been running on nothing but emotion for days. Anger, jealousy, sadness, helplessness. But now, there's nothing. They have me strapped to a bed, I guess they didn't need me freaking out again. Pete was in here a minute ago, he told me what happened, what I did. I would feel bad about it but. well I already mentioned how well things are going in the emotion department. He didn't stay for very long, not that I can blame him I'm not exactly the best company right now. I think he was expecting to help me some how. But I'm not crying so how would he comfort me? And I'm not speaking so what is he supposed to say? But he'll be back later, he's a good guy like that.
...
I guess my day started out normal. I woke up two hours before my alarm went off, took a shower, drank three cups of coffee, made breakfast for dad and Lana and went to school. The last day of school actually, and then it was officially the end of the school year. School was normal to, I went to class, put the finishing touches on the final issue of The Torch and spent fifteen minutes crying in the bathroom after Lionel called me and asked if I had any new information on Clark. Needles to say he was less than happy with my bullshit answers. I didn't know what the hell to tell him. Sorry Lionel I haven't done a bit of research in to Clarks whereabouts, sorry Lionel I don't want to work for you any more or maybe, sorry, but do you think I could keep that nifty column in the Planet without having to sell you my soul? Sorry, but you make my skin crawl. That was some of the helplessness I was talking about earlier. Somehow The Torch, my baby the one place I'm always at home got twisted in to something that ties my stomach in knots. Instead of working all I can do is sit around and stare at all the shiny new equipment, compliments of LuthorCorp. When I started out, it was about the truth. It was about all the people who had there lives stolen by the meteor rocks, all the people who went to Smallville High and ended up dead, or in jail or crazy because they mutated and lost their minds. I wanted to help them. I wanted to give answers to all the parents who lost children and to all the students who lost friends. But what am I using it for now? To investigate someone I would have once counted among my best friends. Why, because he was less than honest with me. That was nothing new. But it seemed like a good enough reason to take Lionel's offer at the time. I'm still angry but that doesn't mean I want to give up everything I believe in. Even if I do manage to get my self out of this one I still don't have any plans of patching things up with Clark.
But none of that has to do with how I got here, in this hospital room, strapped to this bed. That started on my way home, Lana called me, frantic, scared. There had been an accident at the plant, my dad was hurt and she wanted a ride to the hospital. I told her to call Pete. Fifteen minutes later I was asking the lady at the desk where I could find my father. If she would just please tell me where my father was then I would calm down. But she wasn't helping. So I walked off, it's not like I haven't visited the ER enough times to get there on my own. It hardly took me any time and there he was. In one of those rooms with the double swinging doors. Doctors where going back and forth, leaving and coming back with x- rays to look at and other doctors to consult. And all I could think about was that every time those doors swung in any direction they blew out the scent of blood. My fathers blood. It clung to the back of my throat sticky and metallic. And suddenly it stopped. The doctors stopped talking and the doors slowly lost momentum. I didn't hear it when they pronounced him dead, but I knew that's what they where doing. Then another patient came in and they where all in motion again accept none of it was centered around my dad. The doctors where in another room, undoubtedly helping another patient down the path my father had just walked.
I have no idea why I decided to walk in there. But I had to, I had to see him. So I did, I walked right through the doors hoping every second of the way that someone would stop me, hold me back and tell me I shouldn't be there. No one did. And there he was bloody, naked and dead. There was a pipe protruding out from his chest, and bits of twisted metal laying on a small metal table by his bed. In some part of my mind I guess I knew they had pulled that from his body. I got closer and touched his hand, still warm to the touch.
I looked up to his face, and I could have sworn he opened his eyes and said my name.
Pete said that was when I freaked out. It must have been 'cause I don't remember anything after that besides waking up in this bed. He said an orderly found me shaking him, screaming at him to wake up. Pete said it had taken three grown men to hold me down long enough to put a sedative in me. And that's how I ended up strapped to this bed. .... My head hurts.
It's strange really. I've been running on nothing but emotion for days. Anger, jealousy, sadness, helplessness. But now, there's nothing. They have me strapped to a bed, I guess they didn't need me freaking out again. Pete was in here a minute ago, he told me what happened, what I did. I would feel bad about it but. well I already mentioned how well things are going in the emotion department. He didn't stay for very long, not that I can blame him I'm not exactly the best company right now. I think he was expecting to help me some how. But I'm not crying so how would he comfort me? And I'm not speaking so what is he supposed to say? But he'll be back later, he's a good guy like that.
...
I guess my day started out normal. I woke up two hours before my alarm went off, took a shower, drank three cups of coffee, made breakfast for dad and Lana and went to school. The last day of school actually, and then it was officially the end of the school year. School was normal to, I went to class, put the finishing touches on the final issue of The Torch and spent fifteen minutes crying in the bathroom after Lionel called me and asked if I had any new information on Clark. Needles to say he was less than happy with my bullshit answers. I didn't know what the hell to tell him. Sorry Lionel I haven't done a bit of research in to Clarks whereabouts, sorry Lionel I don't want to work for you any more or maybe, sorry, but do you think I could keep that nifty column in the Planet without having to sell you my soul? Sorry, but you make my skin crawl. That was some of the helplessness I was talking about earlier. Somehow The Torch, my baby the one place I'm always at home got twisted in to something that ties my stomach in knots. Instead of working all I can do is sit around and stare at all the shiny new equipment, compliments of LuthorCorp. When I started out, it was about the truth. It was about all the people who had there lives stolen by the meteor rocks, all the people who went to Smallville High and ended up dead, or in jail or crazy because they mutated and lost their minds. I wanted to help them. I wanted to give answers to all the parents who lost children and to all the students who lost friends. But what am I using it for now? To investigate someone I would have once counted among my best friends. Why, because he was less than honest with me. That was nothing new. But it seemed like a good enough reason to take Lionel's offer at the time. I'm still angry but that doesn't mean I want to give up everything I believe in. Even if I do manage to get my self out of this one I still don't have any plans of patching things up with Clark.
But none of that has to do with how I got here, in this hospital room, strapped to this bed. That started on my way home, Lana called me, frantic, scared. There had been an accident at the plant, my dad was hurt and she wanted a ride to the hospital. I told her to call Pete. Fifteen minutes later I was asking the lady at the desk where I could find my father. If she would just please tell me where my father was then I would calm down. But she wasn't helping. So I walked off, it's not like I haven't visited the ER enough times to get there on my own. It hardly took me any time and there he was. In one of those rooms with the double swinging doors. Doctors where going back and forth, leaving and coming back with x- rays to look at and other doctors to consult. And all I could think about was that every time those doors swung in any direction they blew out the scent of blood. My fathers blood. It clung to the back of my throat sticky and metallic. And suddenly it stopped. The doctors stopped talking and the doors slowly lost momentum. I didn't hear it when they pronounced him dead, but I knew that's what they where doing. Then another patient came in and they where all in motion again accept none of it was centered around my dad. The doctors where in another room, undoubtedly helping another patient down the path my father had just walked.
I have no idea why I decided to walk in there. But I had to, I had to see him. So I did, I walked right through the doors hoping every second of the way that someone would stop me, hold me back and tell me I shouldn't be there. No one did. And there he was bloody, naked and dead. There was a pipe protruding out from his chest, and bits of twisted metal laying on a small metal table by his bed. In some part of my mind I guess I knew they had pulled that from his body. I got closer and touched his hand, still warm to the touch.
I looked up to his face, and I could have sworn he opened his eyes and said my name.
Pete said that was when I freaked out. It must have been 'cause I don't remember anything after that besides waking up in this bed. He said an orderly found me shaking him, screaming at him to wake up. Pete said it had taken three grown men to hold me down long enough to put a sedative in me. And that's how I ended up strapped to this bed. .... My head hurts.