I place each individual bullet into the barrel with a shaky hand, the edges chattering against the metal as they fit in snuggly. This is their last home, before they would be embedded in human flesh, distant and broken. My hand shakes nervously as I click the barrel back into place. I weigh my father's revolver in my hand. It's cold and heavy, like my heart right now. The metal had just been cleaned and the wood on the handle had just been polished. The amber, gold, and brown swirls in an angry cloud that seems trapped by the glossy finish.

My father cleaned this gun often. It was his favorite. He would polish it whether it needed it or not. He would tell me stories as a child while he polished it, about how he first came to have the gun in the first place. His father was shipped off to Germany during the war. Candy and toys were too expensive there so he bought the least expensive thing he could find at the time. A German made revolver, in a small wooden box with hinges and a lock was what his father brought back to him. He could only admire it from afar once his father came back though. He was too young to own a gun, and didn't get it until he was sixteen.

I've heard that story too many times, and thinking of my father only makes the stitch in my stomach worse. He would find out eventually what would happen. I just don't want him ever to know. I don't want him to know his own daughter is capable of such a thing. I don't even know how to fire a gun, yet.

I've been through too much pain to continue going through life the way I have been. Things have to change.

"Get a hold of yourself Chloe!" my head keeps saying.

But I always retort with a simple "No."

I don't know what else to do. I know life isn't fair, but this is just ridiculous! I've tried so hard and have gotten nowhere. I've given so much and gotten nothing in return. My friendships don't matter anymore. Clark doesn't love me like I love him. He leads me on and when I show him my heart he goes for none other than Lana Lang.

Oh, poor Lana Lang. Poor little orphan girl. It's so sad that her parents died. But look at what a great person she is! She's a cheerleader, cross country runner, a good role model. Urgh! I want to throw up every time I hear that.

"She's so smart! She's so pretty! She's so nice!" they all say. But they don't know her like I do. She's a backstabbing, knifing, liar. Clark can't see past her beautiful face. She knows how much I love him. She knows how hard I try for him. She doesn't know I can see right through her. She doesn't love him. She doesn't care about him. This is just a game for her.

It's so convenient how she always gets attacked behind the Talon. Poor Lana, always getting attacked, and Clark always being there to save her. He's always there for her, and everyone else, but never for me. Clark will never love me, and I'll never find another.

And Pete isn't much help either. He's always off doing things with Clark, never spending time with me. I know he's hiding something from me. He and Clark are, I know it. I just don't know what. I don't want to know anymore. There's a problem in my life and it's time to get rid of it. I'm going to get rid of it and Clark can't do a thing about it.

The very fibers of my being are being ripped to shreds by this love that will never be.

I turn off my car engine and the gun's safety.

"Okay Lana, it's time to die."