Title: Attempted Salvation
Author: Lala
Rating: PG (mention of violence)
Pairing: None. Chloe/Lana friendship, Chloe angst.
Summary: This is it. Just say it, Sullivan. Tell her, tell her everything. "I… I have… I'm in…" (Chloe angst with Chlana friendship)
Spoilers: Up through the end of Extinction, or maybe just for the fact that Lionel's threatening Chloe.
Disclaimer: No characters in this belong to me.
Author's notes: This is my first time writing a lot of Chloe, and my first Smallville first person. It was originally going to be a series, but I decided it was more angsty as a one shot, so here goes. Please leave feedback, good or bad.
---
It's late when I finally get home. He wouldn't let me leave until barely fifteen minutes ago… I was afraid if I protested he'd do what he did last time to insure that I only left when he said I was aloud.
My dad's light's out, but Lana's isn't. I hear music emanating softly from underneath her door as I walk passed, and I turn, unable to stop myself. I hesitate, before finally opening the door and entering.
"Hey." She's smoothing down her lavender pajama top, hair damp from her shower. The mixture of coconuts and roses fills the room and at the first breath I feel the fear leave me at its familiarity.
"Hi," I say, knowing my voice is trembling ever so slightly and not caring. I sink onto her bed, flex of water hitting my face from her hair as she turns and picks up her hairbrush. Maybe it'll hide the tears that I can feel gathering behind my eyelids.
Lana's brushing her hair now, sending droplets of water everywhere. They're cool and purifying like a spring rain as they hit my face, and I wish they could take away all my wrongdoings with their gentle caress.
More water splashes on my cheek, hot and salty this time. I'm too close to crying, closer than I've been since the last time I dared defy him.
Lana's watching me now; I can feel her eyes on me, just as I can feel the sunlight on warm days. I don't look up right away… instead I stare at her pink bedspread, suddenly wishing I were her. Wishing I was the girl who got to slide into this bed every night, who got to look at Clark's picture on her nightstand and think of the feel of his lips on hers. Who got to watch the suffering, not be a part of it.
That's not Lana's real life and I know it. But anything would be better than my current situation and I suddenly long to be the one standing next to the bed, brushing my damp hair and watching my friend worriedly as she huddles on my bed, fighting tears.
Lana's stopped brushing her hair now. I know because I hear the click as the plastic brush hits the desk, hear the padding of bare feet on carpet as she walks closer to me, yet I still don't dare look at her.
The bed shifts slightly and she's sitting next to me. The flannel of her pajama bottoms brushes my leg as she sits, and I study her outfit through stinging eyes.
It's a long sleeved shirt, a soft shade of lavender. The pants are matching, with a drawstring in front. They're cute I guess, but that's not why I can't take my eyes off them.
They're baggy around Lana's slender form, giving me the feeling that if I were in them they'd protect me. I long to be in those pajamas, warm and comfortable and safe… But I'm not.
I'm in jeans and a warn t-shirt, faded from it's many washings. It's the shirt I always wear when I know he'll be coming, or just when I expect him to. It's the one that first got splattered with my blood, the one that's had the most washings of any other article of clothing I own. It's the one that knows us both, knows all I've been through.
But it doesn't make me feel safe. It makes me think of him and he's not safe.
Another tear breaks lose from my not so tight control on my emotions. It slides down my cheek, cold and small and lost, like me.
"Chloe…" Lana speaks hesitantly, and I know she's seen it. Her hand touches my shoulder, and I flinch away. The last time someone touched me there it was him, and though I know perfectly well that Lana would never hurt me, the memory and emotions are too fresh.
"I…" I don't know what I want to say. I feel that I owe her an explanation, and I want to tell her why I'm like this. I want to tell her and have her understand. I want to tell Lana and have her help me. Have her save me.
She stands - I hear the bedsprings squeak slightly as proof - and comes to stand in front of me. She reaches out and tilts my face up so that I'm looking at her now.
"Chloe, are you okay?" I hate when her voice is like that; soft and filled with genuine concern, because it makes me want to break down and tell her everything.
"Y-yeah." But I don't. I can't. I won't.
She doesn't believe me. "Are you sure?"
"P-positive. J-just a long day, th-that's all." I attempt to give her a wry smile, "Torch didn't want to co-operate tonight… you know. And I think PMS is part of it…" Am I rambling? I don't know. All I know is, I want to tell her so desperately…
"Uhh… okay." She's sounding unconvinced, but is willing to drop it. "Well…" she hesitates, then, "it's late and I've got to open the Talon tomorrow so…"
Oh. She wants me to leave.
"Right." I rise slowly, not wanting to walk out that door. Lana's room is so warm… so sheltered… I want to curl up under her covers and stay there forever.
And I want to be able to walk next door to my own room and feel safe there again.
But I can't. He could come in there - would come in there. In here there's slightly less chance that he'd think to look for me, though knowing him he'd probably come here first.
But still… I don't want to leave.
"Lana?" I'm halfway to the door regardless of my feelings when I hear myself speak her name in a broken whisper.
"Yeah?" She looks up from where she's pulling down the covers of her bed.
This is it. Just say it, Sullivan. Tell her, tell her everything. "I… I have… I'm in…"
But I can't do it. I can't tell Lana because that would mean she'd be in danger too and I can't do that to her.
"What is it?" She's crossing the room, coming to stand right beside me.
"Never… never mind. It's nothing…" My voice seems steadier suddenly, a fact of which I am grateful.
"Chloe…"
"Night, Lana. See ya in the morning." And with that I'm walking out her door and into the dark, desolate hallway.
I tried… and failed.
I wanted to be helped… but am not going to be.
The tears return and this time, I let them.
I'm sorry, Lana. I'm sorry for not telling you, for doing this to Clark… I'm sorry for caring about you and making you a potential target… I am so sorry.
And another attempt for my salvation is gone.
End
Author's Notes:
Not my best, but I'm new with Chloe, I'll get better. Once again, please leave any and all comments!
Lala
Author: Lala
Rating: PG (mention of violence)
Pairing: None. Chloe/Lana friendship, Chloe angst.
Summary: This is it. Just say it, Sullivan. Tell her, tell her everything. "I… I have… I'm in…" (Chloe angst with Chlana friendship)
Spoilers: Up through the end of Extinction, or maybe just for the fact that Lionel's threatening Chloe.
Disclaimer: No characters in this belong to me.
Author's notes: This is my first time writing a lot of Chloe, and my first Smallville first person. It was originally going to be a series, but I decided it was more angsty as a one shot, so here goes. Please leave feedback, good or bad.
---
It's late when I finally get home. He wouldn't let me leave until barely fifteen minutes ago… I was afraid if I protested he'd do what he did last time to insure that I only left when he said I was aloud.
My dad's light's out, but Lana's isn't. I hear music emanating softly from underneath her door as I walk passed, and I turn, unable to stop myself. I hesitate, before finally opening the door and entering.
"Hey." She's smoothing down her lavender pajama top, hair damp from her shower. The mixture of coconuts and roses fills the room and at the first breath I feel the fear leave me at its familiarity.
"Hi," I say, knowing my voice is trembling ever so slightly and not caring. I sink onto her bed, flex of water hitting my face from her hair as she turns and picks up her hairbrush. Maybe it'll hide the tears that I can feel gathering behind my eyelids.
Lana's brushing her hair now, sending droplets of water everywhere. They're cool and purifying like a spring rain as they hit my face, and I wish they could take away all my wrongdoings with their gentle caress.
More water splashes on my cheek, hot and salty this time. I'm too close to crying, closer than I've been since the last time I dared defy him.
Lana's watching me now; I can feel her eyes on me, just as I can feel the sunlight on warm days. I don't look up right away… instead I stare at her pink bedspread, suddenly wishing I were her. Wishing I was the girl who got to slide into this bed every night, who got to look at Clark's picture on her nightstand and think of the feel of his lips on hers. Who got to watch the suffering, not be a part of it.
That's not Lana's real life and I know it. But anything would be better than my current situation and I suddenly long to be the one standing next to the bed, brushing my damp hair and watching my friend worriedly as she huddles on my bed, fighting tears.
Lana's stopped brushing her hair now. I know because I hear the click as the plastic brush hits the desk, hear the padding of bare feet on carpet as she walks closer to me, yet I still don't dare look at her.
The bed shifts slightly and she's sitting next to me. The flannel of her pajama bottoms brushes my leg as she sits, and I study her outfit through stinging eyes.
It's a long sleeved shirt, a soft shade of lavender. The pants are matching, with a drawstring in front. They're cute I guess, but that's not why I can't take my eyes off them.
They're baggy around Lana's slender form, giving me the feeling that if I were in them they'd protect me. I long to be in those pajamas, warm and comfortable and safe… But I'm not.
I'm in jeans and a warn t-shirt, faded from it's many washings. It's the shirt I always wear when I know he'll be coming, or just when I expect him to. It's the one that first got splattered with my blood, the one that's had the most washings of any other article of clothing I own. It's the one that knows us both, knows all I've been through.
But it doesn't make me feel safe. It makes me think of him and he's not safe.
Another tear breaks lose from my not so tight control on my emotions. It slides down my cheek, cold and small and lost, like me.
"Chloe…" Lana speaks hesitantly, and I know she's seen it. Her hand touches my shoulder, and I flinch away. The last time someone touched me there it was him, and though I know perfectly well that Lana would never hurt me, the memory and emotions are too fresh.
"I…" I don't know what I want to say. I feel that I owe her an explanation, and I want to tell her why I'm like this. I want to tell her and have her understand. I want to tell Lana and have her help me. Have her save me.
She stands - I hear the bedsprings squeak slightly as proof - and comes to stand in front of me. She reaches out and tilts my face up so that I'm looking at her now.
"Chloe, are you okay?" I hate when her voice is like that; soft and filled with genuine concern, because it makes me want to break down and tell her everything.
"Y-yeah." But I don't. I can't. I won't.
She doesn't believe me. "Are you sure?"
"P-positive. J-just a long day, th-that's all." I attempt to give her a wry smile, "Torch didn't want to co-operate tonight… you know. And I think PMS is part of it…" Am I rambling? I don't know. All I know is, I want to tell her so desperately…
"Uhh… okay." She's sounding unconvinced, but is willing to drop it. "Well…" she hesitates, then, "it's late and I've got to open the Talon tomorrow so…"
Oh. She wants me to leave.
"Right." I rise slowly, not wanting to walk out that door. Lana's room is so warm… so sheltered… I want to curl up under her covers and stay there forever.
And I want to be able to walk next door to my own room and feel safe there again.
But I can't. He could come in there - would come in there. In here there's slightly less chance that he'd think to look for me, though knowing him he'd probably come here first.
But still… I don't want to leave.
"Lana?" I'm halfway to the door regardless of my feelings when I hear myself speak her name in a broken whisper.
"Yeah?" She looks up from where she's pulling down the covers of her bed.
This is it. Just say it, Sullivan. Tell her, tell her everything. "I… I have… I'm in…"
But I can't do it. I can't tell Lana because that would mean she'd be in danger too and I can't do that to her.
"What is it?" She's crossing the room, coming to stand right beside me.
"Never… never mind. It's nothing…" My voice seems steadier suddenly, a fact of which I am grateful.
"Chloe…"
"Night, Lana. See ya in the morning." And with that I'm walking out her door and into the dark, desolate hallway.
I tried… and failed.
I wanted to be helped… but am not going to be.
The tears return and this time, I let them.
I'm sorry, Lana. I'm sorry for not telling you, for doing this to Clark… I'm sorry for caring about you and making you a potential target… I am so sorry.
And another attempt for my salvation is gone.
End
Author's Notes:
Not my best, but I'm new with Chloe, I'll get better. Once again, please leave any and all comments!
Lala