Chapter 6: ANNA
They called me angel, the hope of all mankind.
I called myself the angel of death, for salvation comes only by sacrificing.
That's the one thing that the humankind cannot understand. And probably never will. That for the war to be won some battles have to be fought even against the odds. That some soldiers matter less than others, simply because those who follow orders are many. Those who give those orders are not as expendable.
When the world and I were younger, we didn't understand that. We thought that each person mattered, that all life should be cherished alike. But then we both grew up harshly and realized that equality, freedom and fairness only exist in a dream, utopia. But humankind is not ready for utopia, it never will be. For without evil and loss we will never be able to accept the good moments in life, and the reality that we are in fact alive. Because if all would have been like that — we wouldn't have been superior. And life is superiority; this is the only thing that matters.
Lana tries to tell me that I'm wrong. That there are many things that are worth fighting for more than life itself. She doesn't understand.
She tells me that and I don't have the heart to tell her that it's not as simple as she thinks it is. Survival means fighting every day of your life, every second. Indeed, there are ones who don't feel it, who don't have to fight so frequently, but it is only thanks to those who do. To those who promised.
She knows I disagree and I think that in time she will even learn to accept the fact that we are different in our perspectives. And that's all right. The only thing she tells me when those discussions arise is that she worries about me, that Anna, you have to be careful.
She doesn't know that I'm always careful. And that she's the only one who calls me Anna anymore.
That's the name that I was given by birth but I changed it when I was ten. When I've met my biological mother, and she killed me.
People always tell when I tell that story that I don't look dead. They think they're original.
It's then when I show them the bullet in my head. It scares them, and I smile. Because only the strong ones, the ones who can face a living bullet in the head, are worthy to be with me.
Lana says that when I say that I sound obnoxious. Like Clark. I don't care much, that's how I feel. And anyway, Clark saved me. I don't see anything wrong taking few traits from him.
I can't remember that day but everyone told me that it was unbelievable. Clark protected me yet I got killed.
Later on I discovered that the bullet was covered in kryptonite. Clark simply didn't feel it going through him because he cared about me. Because I was important.
That what killed him. That is why no one is important to me.
Then he gave his life for me. He was found dead, decapitated, with me near him, alive when I should have been dead. One day I met Cassandra and found out that he really gave his life for me — the Limbo of the Dead doesn't care who crosses, only that they do. That the number of the lost souls fits its list. And since Cassandra dwelled Up There she got herself some contacts and succeeded making it happen — kill Clark and give life to me.
I am the only documented case of that ever happening, and I guess I will forever be. For the times of miracles are already gone; people don't believe in them anymore, and neither should they. Science should fill them, passion for the empty parts of this world. Not of the one beyond.
That's what I'm fighting for, anyway. For them to worry only about those things.
Lex, my real father, told me that I should absolve Chloe. But he never forgave Clark, I could tell that from the calculated look that always lingered in his eyes. And the fact that the burning on his head was always there even though he could have gotten a skin transplant and made it disappear. But the fact was that Lex liked having the awful-looking scar as a reminder, that he was a victim.
A little after everything happened, I hated him for not taking me. Then I hated him when he did and took me from everyone I knew. I will forever hate him. And love him. As much as love and hate means in this world.
It's funny in a way that this man became my father in more ways than Clark was, even though he was with me fewer yeas. He helped me to become what I am today — stronger. He raised me almost single-handedly, with Lana going mental about her husband's death and Chloe committing suicide a week after Clark died. He raised no fool.
He always told me that I should look at what happens with a critical eye, to see the faults even in those I love. Because they, too, have faults. Not because they don't love me or because they wish to hurt, but because they are human beings. And if there was only one thing that could describe us — it would have been faults.
He was cruel sometimes, especially when he said that I, too, have faults. But at others, he was the opposite. In a way he was the father I never wanted — teaching me the ways of survival. The value of silence. And compassion and love, that they matter more than everything else.
Yet he wronged with me. He didn't teach me the real ways of life. He didn't teach me to be truly cruel and to do what has to be done, despite everyone being sure that it was his influence. I once heard that Before he was a vicious man, but I could never believe that. He only told me to see the truth even when all others no longer see it, and to follow your own truth, your own heart.
There were times I thought that he taught me that because he truly did believe in the prophecy, despite saying that prophecies were a load of bullshit. But then I realized that he truly did love me, that he was the only one who saw through me — not as the child of the prophecy, but me. His daughter.
I wasn't his daughter for long. He, too, was killed because he was proximate to me.
That taught me the most important lesson. Lex lied. Love doesn't matter.
It was always dangerous to be around me, I always knew that. When I think about it so many years later I can suddenly understand things I couldn't back then. All the times when people came and I greeted them as a child, but they waved what I thought was a plastic gun at me — the gun was real.
They hated me back then; people truly hated me. At first I thought that was because of Clark but then I realized that it couldn't be it. Humankind is laden with evil and unhappiness regarding its life. I don't think that even they believed that killing me would have solved their problems. I was their excuse.
Maybe that was why they can accept me now. Because deep down they know that I am not evil, nor was Clark. Because for whatever wrong we have done, we did it from good intentions. I, at least, truly believe that in the beginning Clark's motives were noble. What happened after — it is only the human ambition to blame. And he was an alien; he learnt it from us. Ultimately, we brought it upon ourselves.
I remember that when I was young I was sure that I did something wrong. I always saw all those children running free, careless, swimming in a cloud of dust while I was always home in those horrid cleaning ventilators, drowning in only parental affection and not the kind I sought — from those my own age.
I even asked Lana once, but she only smiled. I always hated her for that, and always will. Because she made me feel in that moment devious and sinful, someone who really did deserved to be locked up. To have the destiny that I didn't want to carry.
It was only years later when she told me that she smiled because I reminded her so much of herself – the same face and the same innocence that she knew would one day disappear. And even though I wasn't her real daughter, in that question she came to accept me.
But I realized that too many years after. If I had known that sooner I probably wouldn't have made all those mistakes.
No, I cannot lie to myself. I would have made them. Perhaps, though, for different reasons. The unmentionable things I did in my time were to have her accept me, to see that just like her husband, I was capable of making the hard decisions.
But unmentionable things have a tendency to been done whatever the reasons are. They are a vital part of a planet's growth, and eventually of its level of involvement in the Upper Confederation of the Delta Universe. In a way I guess I did my planet a favor.
Not that it helps me sleep at night. There's nothing worse for slumber than a guilty conscience and that's the only disease to which no scientist could ever find a cure. I guess it's better that they won't; otherwise we would be no better than the animals. Because all animals can sleep after a great slaughter. Yet, they are much less vicious than man.
Maybe it would have been better without evolution in the first place.
Maybe.
Or maybe evolution is the only thing that brings us hope that one day we will learn to become better. Or maybe this is what takes that hope away from us.
That's why I've called myself Hope. Not in the hope of bringing it, but in desire to take it. Because Hope is sentiment, Hope is vain. And I, who was born as the bringer of joy, couldn't find a harder contradiction than taking the hope away.
But you know something: I can't help but to feel the absurdity of life. Despite everything, I did save the world in the end. I did live up to the prophecy in a way. Because by taking the hope away from the breed of man, I encouraged them to obtain it. This time — for themselves. So that they will be able to live and prosper without me as their consulter and without the aliens to guard their steps.
I brought them freedom. Now, this is my time to retire, to live.
This is my 21st birthday today, and now that I'm done with saving the world, I can finally look forward to what will become the fresh beginning of my life.