Waking Up
By blondie
cdiminyatz@hotmail.com
*I know I haven't written in like months…but I read some old reviews and got a little bit inspired.*
*I own nothing…blah..blah…blah…but if Tom Wellings is up for grabs…*
*please review…I'll read it…pinkie swear…*
*You guys do realize I have no idea what I am doing right?…just checking…*
*for a GREAT laugh…read Nine Months of Trouble in the *NSYNC section…it's sssssssoooo funny…*
*I am not sure whether this will be a Clark/Chloe or Lex/Chloe…maybe I'll kill off Lana…muwahaha..*
Chloe's p.o.v.
I opened my eyes only to discover that I was no longer in the pick-up truck.
How long was I out? What the hell did he put in me?
…had he done anything while I was out…
I did my best to look down at myself, glad to see that my clothes were still in place. My hands were still tied with the rope, along with my boots, but a pole was between my back and my dying hands. I could feel a wetness where my skin met the rope and I knew it was blood. Not a lot, but it was noticeable all the same.
My feet were tied together outside the pole and my boots were still on, keeping the rough rope from shredding my ankles.
I looked around only to see darkness surrounded me. The pole I was against was in the corner, and a little light seemed to be coming up from it. I looked up as best I could, trying not to bang my head against the pole.
I could see that the ceiling only went a few more feet before it stopped, but the pole didn't stop. It went past the ceiling, with a silt around it revealing the shining sky.
So now I knew I was underground.
My only other comfort was that with feet tied together, it would be pretty difficult for that bastard to try to rape me.
Lex's p.o.v.
The atmosphere of the Sullivan house reminded me of a morgue. Everyone is in shock because they have just lost someone close to them, and it never hit them before that they could lose them.
I held my tongue before saying, "Calm down everyone, she's not lost, she's just misplaced."
Maybe that's why a lot of these farm folk don't like me…
Chloe's mother was upstairs…either calling someone or sleeping…either way she was convincing herself that it was all a bad dream.
Clark simply sat on the couch. He was staring at something…or nothing…
I walked a few feet behind the couch and put my head at his eye level.
It was a picture of Chloe. A recent one.
"So…who are our suspects?" I asked clasping my hands together, doing my best to make it look like this was just another favor I was doing for Clark.
"No one…so far…" He said in a monotone voice.
I could work with monotone. I was used to monotone. Someone starts to show some emotion and then I'm at a lost.
"Who was the last one who saw her?" Aside from the prick who probably had her at his own devices as we speak.
"Her mom, this morning, before she left to go work on 'The Torch'…"
his voice trailed off and his got a puzzled look on his face.
"What?" Hopefully he didn't start crying, remembering something about Chloe and her love for her paper. If farmer-boy here began to breakdown, it would harder for me to keep acting like I didn't give a fuck about some teenage girl who didn't care what other people thought about her or her opinions, who had this ability to make me feel like I was drowning and flying at the same time…
"Lana…said something…about going by the school…she might have seen Chloe" Clark said those words as he got up and power walked to the phone.
I looked at the picture he had been staring at again. That was when I first noticed that Clark was in it too.
Whitney's p.o.v.
She lowered her body to the ground and sat down. She looked up at her pinch of fading light.
I watched from the dark, knowing that she couldn't see me.
I walked away, wondering what was better, that I was leaving in a few hours for the annual family Christmas flight to Florida for three weeks, or that it was supposed to snow tonight.
****
As the plane took off, I felt sorry for her for a second. She was in a location that few knew about, and all she was wearing was her long skirt, sweater, jacket, socks, and boots.
It was going to be a long, cold night for her.
If she didn't freeze to death tonight, she could get eaten by animals ( I could smell her bleeding wrists), or bleed to death, or simply die from starvation and dehydration.
What ever caused Clark the most pain when, more like IF, they found her, was what I knew was best for her.
By blondie
cdiminyatz@hotmail.com
*I know I haven't written in like months…but I read some old reviews and got a little bit inspired.*
*I own nothing…blah..blah…blah…but if Tom Wellings is up for grabs…*
*please review…I'll read it…pinkie swear…*
*You guys do realize I have no idea what I am doing right?…just checking…*
*for a GREAT laugh…read Nine Months of Trouble in the *NSYNC section…it's sssssssoooo funny…*
*I am not sure whether this will be a Clark/Chloe or Lex/Chloe…maybe I'll kill off Lana…muwahaha..*
Chloe's p.o.v.
I opened my eyes only to discover that I was no longer in the pick-up truck.
How long was I out? What the hell did he put in me?
…had he done anything while I was out…
I did my best to look down at myself, glad to see that my clothes were still in place. My hands were still tied with the rope, along with my boots, but a pole was between my back and my dying hands. I could feel a wetness where my skin met the rope and I knew it was blood. Not a lot, but it was noticeable all the same.
My feet were tied together outside the pole and my boots were still on, keeping the rough rope from shredding my ankles.
I looked around only to see darkness surrounded me. The pole I was against was in the corner, and a little light seemed to be coming up from it. I looked up as best I could, trying not to bang my head against the pole.
I could see that the ceiling only went a few more feet before it stopped, but the pole didn't stop. It went past the ceiling, with a silt around it revealing the shining sky.
So now I knew I was underground.
My only other comfort was that with feet tied together, it would be pretty difficult for that bastard to try to rape me.
Lex's p.o.v.
The atmosphere of the Sullivan house reminded me of a morgue. Everyone is in shock because they have just lost someone close to them, and it never hit them before that they could lose them.
I held my tongue before saying, "Calm down everyone, she's not lost, she's just misplaced."
Maybe that's why a lot of these farm folk don't like me…
Chloe's mother was upstairs…either calling someone or sleeping…either way she was convincing herself that it was all a bad dream.
Clark simply sat on the couch. He was staring at something…or nothing…
I walked a few feet behind the couch and put my head at his eye level.
It was a picture of Chloe. A recent one.
"So…who are our suspects?" I asked clasping my hands together, doing my best to make it look like this was just another favor I was doing for Clark.
"No one…so far…" He said in a monotone voice.
I could work with monotone. I was used to monotone. Someone starts to show some emotion and then I'm at a lost.
"Who was the last one who saw her?" Aside from the prick who probably had her at his own devices as we speak.
"Her mom, this morning, before she left to go work on 'The Torch'…"
his voice trailed off and his got a puzzled look on his face.
"What?" Hopefully he didn't start crying, remembering something about Chloe and her love for her paper. If farmer-boy here began to breakdown, it would harder for me to keep acting like I didn't give a fuck about some teenage girl who didn't care what other people thought about her or her opinions, who had this ability to make me feel like I was drowning and flying at the same time…
"Lana…said something…about going by the school…she might have seen Chloe" Clark said those words as he got up and power walked to the phone.
I looked at the picture he had been staring at again. That was when I first noticed that Clark was in it too.
Whitney's p.o.v.
She lowered her body to the ground and sat down. She looked up at her pinch of fading light.
I watched from the dark, knowing that she couldn't see me.
I walked away, wondering what was better, that I was leaving in a few hours for the annual family Christmas flight to Florida for three weeks, or that it was supposed to snow tonight.
****
As the plane took off, I felt sorry for her for a second. She was in a location that few knew about, and all she was wearing was her long skirt, sweater, jacket, socks, and boots.
It was going to be a long, cold night for her.
If she didn't freeze to death tonight, she could get eaten by animals ( I could smell her bleeding wrists), or bleed to death, or simply die from starvation and dehydration.
What ever caused Clark the most pain when, more like IF, they found her, was what I knew was best for her.