"What is wrong with you man!" shouted Rev. Jim in the dark room he now stood in with Mr. and Mrs. Kent.

Jonathan Kent had been stripped of his shirt and tied by his wrists and his ankles. They placed him on his knees on top of an old ataman in the center of the room that had the padding stripped off to reveal the wooden box underneath. His wife was tied to a pole against the wall of the small and enclosed space they were in. She had all of her clothes intact, but she was wishing that she could take her husband's place right now. The reverend was taking a whip that looked like it was taken out of the Indiana Jones movies, and was beating Jonathan across his back at every hearing of the word "no".

"Your son is not a blessing Mr. Kent," the reverend said. "He is a curse. You know that."

"No," Jonathan breathed with all that was in him, only to be met with another whip on the back that made him scream in such a way that made his wife cringe in her spot. She wanted desperately to help Jonathan, but she made a promise with him before he was tied up that she wouldn't attempt to stage any escape attempts. That scenario would only cause more trouble for their son as well as for themselves.

Jonathan was now hunched over, grinding his teeth together to try and take away from the throbbing pain coming from his back. Jonathan's dark blue eyes were now dry and bloodshot and fine hair was dark with sweat. His voice was scratchy from the screaming he was doing and his hands were trembling at a level that resembled Parkinson's disease. With every blow, Jonathan became more pathetic and frail, and the reverend gained even more satisfaction.

"Your wife was barren for a reason, Mr. Kent. She was given thyroid cancer as a child for a reason. The chemo dried up her ovaries for a reason."

Martha was becoming very agitated and upset. She tried to struggle free from the restraints, but as she resisted, the ropes got tighter around her wrists. "Leave him alone," she finally shouted. "How dare you! You horrible man! You…!" A kick in the face by one of the reverend's goons silenced the lone female Kent but bashing her head against the pole. Jonathan watched helplessly as his wife slumped to the ground unconscious. Jonathan's anger was beginning to mount as he saw the happiness on the reverend's facec for that action. He was too weak to show it, but it was there.

"You were intended to be barren for one reason or another," Rev. Jim continued. "Taking in the young alien boy was messing with that plan. You were not supposed to have a child. On top of that, you took in a potentially dangerous being and raised him like a normal human! Taking that into consideration, no wonder you were cursed."

"N-n-no," Jonathan uttered, with more rage building up inside of him. It was unable to show itself, though, because he could barley hold his head upright. That fact made Rev. Jim's subsequent punch in the face all the more surprising.

Jonathan spit the blood out of his mouth as he looked back up into the eyes of the angry reverend. The farmer tried to look away, but there was something drawing him. He knew what this was. It had happened before. Jonathan swore he would not be intimidated by this man any longer. Looking away now became a priority. At least it was, until the reverend spoke again.

"Do you remember when your baby died Mr. Kent?"

Jonathan's eyes became wide as his breathing became quick and nervous. He became frightened as once-dead emotions began to conjure in his soul.

"I see that you do," the reverend continued as he shot a glance at Martha. "If your wife were with us I'm sure she'd say the same thing. Good thing, too. I need it for the cleansing."

"The what?" Jonathan gasped.

"I know what your impressions about me are Mr. Kent. You think I'm somehow hypnotizing you or something like that." The reverend began to laugh before he continued. "That's not true. You see, I have a wonderful gift. My mere presence can help people realize the emotions that they keep buried inside. Those are the emotions that are only buried because of our inability to be honest with ourselves. We were not meant to be liars, Mr. Kent. We were meant to be truthful beings. People that let the deep, dark thoughts of our subconscious out in the open. I call that dark place the 'devil's pit'."

Jonathan kept his eyes fixated on Rev. Jim. It was too late. He couldn't take his gaze away from his round face and thin spectacles. His green eyes were the focal point, and Jonathan now found it necessary to listen. When he saw that Jonathan was finally too weak to resist, Rev. Jim grinned and spoke again.

"Now that I have your attention, let's talk."

Clark heavy eyes finally opened with the sound of soft music playing in his small cell. It sounded like a few girls singing a slow and sad song, which, in a way, reflected his mood at the moment. His head was pounding and his entire body was now twice as sore as before. Clark also was beginning to feel the effect of anxiety on his stomach, which was not a pleasant mixture with everything else. Clark then noticed that he wasn't as cold as before. He saw that the surface he was on was not damp and hard, but soft and dry. He pulled himself up to see the cot that was now his resting spot, and then plopped right back down again.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the movement of another person in the room. He started to panic at first, since the lights were now all off in the room except for a couple that were near him. Darkness was never Clark's ideal environment for reassyring sights. However, he began to hear a female voice coming from the figure. It was singing along to the music in the room, and very well, too. Clark's fear then began to subside, mostly because he had never faced an enemy that sang like an angel

"Hello sleepy-head," the girl said. She had an accent that sounded like it was a mix of every European dialect he could think of. She also had a soft and yet mature way of speaking that made her sound safe. She also had a non-threatening build, at least the outline of her in the dark room did.

She finally stepped closer to the bed and out of the light to reveal herself to Clark's tired eyes.

"Aelora?" Clark said as he finally saw her face. He knew that brown hair and those thin rimmed glasses anywhere. She was the oldest daughter that Rev. Jim had introduced him to earlier. She was the one who had warned him about all this through her foreboding gazes. For some reason, Clark was not surprised to see her. In fact, asking questions was the last thing on his mind. She was here to help and he knew it.

"I take it you're feeling better," Aelora said. "I mean, since you're awake."

"Yeah," Clark moaned. "I only feel like a truck crashed into me now rather than a freight train."

Aelora laughed and put a wet sponge on Clark's sore head. As the warm water dribbled across his face, Clark felt a huge sense of relief. He started breathing easier as the cold sensations in his body began to ease. All he needed now was for his hands and toes to stop feeling like ice. He could also do without the pain that was still evident all over his body.

"Thanks," Clark said before he asked what was really on his mind. "You're different from the rest of them."

"Yeah, Captian Obvious" Aelora laughed as she tried to concentrate on what she was doing.

"Why?" Clark asked.

Aelora stopped rubbing the sponge on Clark's head and looked him in the eye.

"Why are YOU different from everybody else?"

"You mean…the whole…thing? I mean…do you know about…that?"

"I do, Clark. You don't have to stutter. You may be injured, but you can still communicate like a human being."

"I see." Clark said, slightly paranoid. "Well, why am I…? I don't know."

"Come on, Clark. This is probably the easiest question you'll ever get."

"I was…born like that?"

"Close. You were made like that," Aelora said, now with a more compassionate tone. "I was made the way I am. Only rather than having powers, I was given an actual brain."

Clark giggled a little bit before he grabbed his side and winced. For a second, Clark actually began to forget how sore he was. He knew a rude awakening was in store.

Aelora made a concerned face and removed the sponge from Clark's head. She then placed it back in the bucket full of water she had with her. She then dragged it over to Steven's bedside where the scraggly man was sleeping.

"So, where does it hurt?" Aelora asked from across the room.

"Everywhere," Clark moaned. "But I have a better question. How did you get in here?"

Aelora sighed and said, "I know this place pretty well, Clark. I know how to maneuver around and stuff like that."

"I see," Clark said, looking to ask another question. "Why are you so kind to me? I know it's because you don't agree with the others, but you seem to have…uh…"

"…An attitude?" Aelora said as she went over to her backpack that was lying by itself in the middle of the room.

"Well, I…"

"Trust me, Clark. I know I have an attitude. Everyone has something that they're trying to get over. I for one stopped trying so that I could use it against my father. I doubt that he would suspect that his rebellious adopted daughter would help his victims. You can say it's my secret identity."

"But your father's not here."

"I have to practice, don't I?" she laughed. "But seriously, Clark. I'm here to help. I don't think any less of you because you're different. None of these people should. Unlike a lot of things in this world, your condition can't be helped."

"My condition?"

"Sorry," Aelora laughed again. "I couldn't come up with a better word." Aelora then picked up her backpack and started to head for the door.

"You're not leaving are you?" Clark asked as he slowly propped himself up.

Aelora sighed. "I don't want to, but I have to. Father will be coming back at any moment. I can't be here while he's here. I'm no match for him and I won't be able to watch as he takes another one."

"Wait a minute. He's coming back?"

"Of course he is, Clark. Didn't you hear what he told you before? The worst is yet to come. You didn't actually think he would just leave you here?"

Clark didn't think that. He knew that Rev. Jim would come back, he just didn't want to believe it. Clark was now beginning to get frightened. He looked back over at Steven and saw what was done to him. He gulped back the bloody drool that he was emitting as his mouth wounds opened again from nervous biting. His eyes began to brim with tears as he began to flip through all possible scenarios that could happen to him, or to his…His parents! He hadn't thought of them.

"Aelora, do you know if my parents are okay? Did he let them go?"

Aelora sighed and picked up her things. "I can't tell you too much, Clark. That would only put you through more pain than necessary."

"Pain! What did that bastard do to them!"

"Calm down, Clark."

"Calm down! I can't calm down! I…" Clark once again felt a shot of pain starting from his hip and then moving to his arms and his legs. He let out a loud groan and squeezed his fists so hard, that his nails were close to puncturing skin. "Don't go," he moaned, now realizing that he couldn't be alone. He needed a friend or a loved one to hold his hand until the pain subsided. At the moment, Aelora was all he had. He tried to be a man and fight back the tears, but it proved to be a harder task than fighting back all of his pain. He didn't feel as wimpy when he noticed that Aelora had a wet face as well.

"I'll be back, Clark." Aelora said, now sounding very reassuring and almost motherly. "When the war subsides I'll be back again to be by your side. But, before I go, I have to tell you this. Please remember that your parents love you more than you will ever know. It's just something about this place that…" Aelora jumped as she thought she heard footsteps. "I must leave…I mean…gotta go," she said as she scurried over to the door and ran out.

'Why did she take the door?' Clark thought. 'She'll get caught. And I know my parents love me. Why would she tell me that?'

Clark was still in great pain, but for some reason, a soothing affect had come over him. After a few seconds, he figured out what it was. Aelora had turned up the music that she was playing before. Apparently she had no problem with her father discovering a boom box in the room. He was glad of that, too, because even though Clark's head was practically splitting in two, he could hear the lyrics and didn't feel alone.

So if the whole wide world is on your back,

And the strength you need is the strength you lack.

You're in a crowd but all alone,

You can't stay here, but you can't go home

If you can't answer all the whys,

'Cause you're too tired to reach that high,

I want you to remember.

If you ever need me,

You know where to find me,

I will be waiting,

I'm where I've always been.

If you ever need me,

You know where to find me,

I have never left you,

I'm where I've always been.

Right by your side

I'm right by your side.

Through this song, Clark was able to ignore the door opening and what seemed like ten people walking into his cell. It wasn't until Clark noticed the many scowling faces standing over him that he began to become frightened. However, there was one angry face that he fixated on. It was that face that made him breathe hard and want to start crying again. That face made him believe that things were going from bad to worse. It was the face that made him understand Aelora's last words to him. It was the bruised and bloodied face of his father.

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A/N: The lyrics posted above are not mine but they belong to Matthew West. In case you're curious, the song it's from is "You Know Where to Find Me".