Tittle: Survivor
Summary: Lex's thoughts in Convent, when he drank the poisoned scotch, is this drabble?
Disclaimer: The computer is screwing me up so I will just make this perfectly clear: IT DOSE NOT BELONG TO ME, k?
It has always helped me to seek the comfort of a good glass of scotch. My father is about to go to jail, so I'll indulge. You think I might of learned from last time he poisoned my glass, but nooo.
It was just one sip, and my throat felt like it was on fire, enflamed. My head burst into a million pieces as every nerve-ending exploded through my body. I fell to the floor; none of my body responded to my thoughts, get up! fight it, Luthor!. I fell on the glass and heard the splash of my drink on the wood floor with the thunk of my body joining it there. My eyes burned red, and I felt dead, semi-conscious.
The medical came after what seemed a thousand years.(It was only 10 minutes)They rushed in, responding to the call of one of the frantic servants. I was supposed to be a gonner.
D-E-A-D.
Ha! What's that supposed to mean?