Author's (short) Note…

Thank you to my reviewers! You guys make my day.

She now sat on the edge of the bed in a Metropolis penthouse. Lionel Luthor's penthouse, to be specific. Maybe if she hadn't been so lost in her own self-pity, she would have admired the high ceilings, the décor, and the amazing view of the city from the huge windows. But Kaitlyn wouldn't lift her eyes from the rumpled silk sheets. She studied every wrinkle to keep her gaze averted from the front of the room. If she dared to look there, she would see him. And he was the last thing she ever wanted to see. It was his fault she felt dirty, like every cell in her body had been turned into so much mud. It was his fault she wanted to throw up.

Lionel stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his expensive Armani jacket. Curse the man and his money… Thinks he can do whatever he wants just because he's rich. If Kaitlyn had one bit of power, she would have had him assassinated tonight.

The man took a breath, and Kaitlyn stiffened. He was about to say something, and hearing his voice felt like stabbing a blade into her gut. This time, there was no freak-power to save her. "You must have really wanted it, not fighting back."

She felt bile rise in her throat. Kaitlyn wanted to scream that the only thing she wanted was to see him dead, but not a word would come out. She was still frozen.

"Would any of this had happened if you had just been a good girl and kept your mouth shut?"

She felt his eyes on her, waiting for an answer. She willed up enough force to shake her head.

"So would you say that you brought this on yourself?"

Brought this on myself? Kaitlyn's brow furrowed, thinking. Maybe he's right. This is my fault. I provoked him. Maybe I did want it, subconsciously. What if that's what kept me from fighting back? Guilt crashed over her like a tidal wave, drowning her. Oh man, this is my fault.

"Would you?" he repeated, louder this time.

She cringed and whispered, "Yes."

"If it's your fault, then is there any reason to tell anyone?"

Kaitlyn swallowed the lump in her throat. "No." But she didn't really know anymore. Everything was so unclear. All she knew was that she felt like she needed to take a ride in a washing machine to get the grime out of her. Even that might not help.

He took one last glance in the mirror to make sure that his tie was straight. "If you ever feel compelled to tell someone, rest assured that both of you won't live to see the next day."

Kaitlyn shuddered. He had followed through on his threat earlier. Why not now? She gathered the little courage she had to say anything with her voice breaking. "How am I supposed to get home? With no car…"

"There are taxis." Was it just Kaitlyn, or was his tone mocking? He placed a bill on the dresser before walking out of the room. She heard the front door shut, the latch clicking.

She stood and squinted at the money. His absence brought her a new emotion: rage. What am I, a whore? He thinks a hundred bucks will make this any better!? As if paying me for my "inconvenience" would make this any easier! She was about to rip the bank note down the middle when she remembered that she otherwise had no money to get a taxi back to Smallville.

Her hate couldn't have been purer. There was no other feeling towards that…that devil. Just the thought of his face made her want to puke. It made her feel even worse to have to depend on his money to get back home. "Devil," she muttered, pulling on her jeans that had been discarded on the floor.

She glanced around the room, and an idea came to her mind. Kaitlyn grabbed the gray silk comforter and threw it into a heap on the floor. She did the same with the sheets. And the pillows. She pulled out every drawer and scattered their contents everywhere. She tried to create as much of a mess as possible. Her eyes darted across the disaster area, and a twinge of pleasure glowed in her at the thought of inconveniencing him.

She jumped a bit when her phone vibrated in her pocket. Kaitlyn pulled it out and immediately felt sick again when she saw the caller ID. John. He has the nerve to call me after what just happened?! She opened the phone and slammed it shut without saying a word. Upon second thought, Kaitlyn realized that no one knew what had happened. And they never would if they wanted to live another day.

Her eyes brimmed with tears. She had just been defiled and then threatened with death. Things couldn't get any worse right now. I swear I'm going to kill that man, she thought, blinking back tears.

She grabbed the hundred-dollar bill and ran at a dead sprint out of the penthouse and down the many flights of stairs. Something had to relieve this nasty feeling that hung over her like a cloud. Running didn't help take away the heaviness, though. She was winded in a minute, but kept pushing herself. She finally reached the ground floor and slowed to a walk. She pushed open the doors to the street front and shivered a bit from the chilly air. Kaitlyn regretted not bringing her jacket. It was still on its hanger at school.

She tried to hail a cab and imagined how she looked at that moment: nothing less than a complete mess. Hair slightly askew, eyes puffy, clothes possibly inside-out. How could she go home and pretend that everything was alright in front of her parents?

One yellow taxi pulled up to the curb, and she climbed in the back. "Where to?" the cabbie asked in a think accent Kaitlyn couldn't identify. He didn't even turn to look at her as he pulled back into the lanes of traffic.

"Smallville," she responded quietly. Kaitlyn felt very uncomfortable being in the car with him, but decided that nothing worse could happen to her today. Wasn't there some law of nature against it?

He let out a bark-like laugh. "That's a bit far. I be able to get you halfway, depending on how much you have."

She frowned. "A hundred."

He nodded. "That get you…" He did the mental calculations, "Pretty close." He popped a U-turn and headed for the freeway.

"Pretty close?" she repeated, hope falling. Even that much money couldn't get her home?

"Maybe five, ten miles out."

She slumped in the backseat and sighed. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Sorry."

Kaitlyn hid her face in her hands and thought that it would be just her luck for all the crap in the world to fall on her at once. Of course, her luck had never been bad before. But one tends to only see the downside to things on bad days.

She didn't realize she was crying until the car stopped. "This is far as I can go," the cabbie said. Maybe his voice was a bit apologetic.

"Thanks," she mumbled, handing him the money. She caught sight of the calculator on the dashboard. $157.23. Her eyes widened a bit as she stepped out and began walking down the highway. Had he pitied her enough to drive her father than a hundred dollars could take her? What may have been a random act of kindness to him was a miracle to Kaitlyn. "Thank you," she said again, to no one in particular.

She had wished for her coat in Metropolis, but she really needed it now. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms and continued her self-pitying.

Five minutes after the cab had turned around, she heard the engine of a car coming her way. Her hopes lifted a bit. Through the blur her tears caused, Kaitlyn saw a red truck driving her. She looked away and tried to smooth her disheveled hair.

The truck stopped in front of her. Her imagination was sent spinning, and she suddenly realized she could be in for more trouble. What if whoever was driving the truck was worse than Luthor?

The plaid boy from lunch rolled down his window and called to her, "Are you alright?"

Kaitlyn leaned away from him. Maybe she could trust him, maybe not. I don't want to take my chances. "I'm fine," she choked out and continued to walk.

He shrugged. "Do you need a ride or something?"

She groaned. What, the Boy Scout needed to earn some sort of do-gooder badge? The chilly wind blew a bit harder, and her resolve crumbled. She nodded and broke down in sobs.

"Um, it's okay," he said awkwardly. He waited for her to climb in the car before asking, "Where do you need to go?"

She slid into the seat and decided against buckling. "Um…809 Walnut Lane." He drove in silence. Maybe he was trying to be polite, or maybe he just didn't want to know.

They were parked in front of the Grant house ten minutes later. "Thanks," she barely managed to say through her tears. "Um, I don't know your name." Sniff.

"Clark. I'm glad to help." His smile made her want to cry harder. She nodded and entered the house, closing the door behind her. She peered out the window and was glad her Accord was back in its place in the driveway

What time is it? She shuffled to the microwave. Bright green numbers screamed 4:02. Her parents would be home in about an hour. How can I face them? They'll ask what happened. Maybe I'll go to Brooke's...

By 4:30, Kaitlyn had pulled out of the driveway in the repaired Honda, her duffle in the backseat. She drove to her friend's house, struggling to concentrate on the road.

She parked the car and threw her black duffle bag over her shoulder before slamming the door shut. Walking up to the large white house, she rang the doorbell. Brooke answered, her dark amber eyes harder than usual.

"Come to apo--" Brooke started, but was cut off by something crashing in the background. She looked her friend full in the face, and inhaled sharply. "What happened to you? Gone on tour to Iraq?"

"It's complicated," Kaitlyn muttered. "Can I come in?"

"Um… Sleepover?" Brooke asked, noticing the black duffel. "You should have called… now's not a good time."

"I…er…can't go home."

Her friend scoffed. "What, parents kick you out?"

"Um….yeah. Huge blow-up…" Kaitlyn lied, uncertain that it was believable; lying was not her strong point. Brooke stepped aside for her to enter, and unintelligible yelling reached Kaitlyn's ears.

Brooke looked at her accusingly. "My parents are fighting, too." She led them silently up the large spiral staircase. Her room was as untidy as ever. On top of the bed lay Brooke's chihuahua. He raised his head and yipped. "Oh, shush, Blanc! It's just Kate." Brooke flopped down next to her pet and examined the ceiling. Kaitlyn took her usual place sitting on the pink bean bag chair.

The two were silent for a minute. "It was you, wasn't it?" Brooke asked, not looking at her friend.

Kaitlyn stiffened. "What was me?" she asked.

"Oh, come on, Kate! There's guilt written all over your face! I know you're the one who ran to the tabloids about my mom's affair."

Kaitlyn cringed and remained silent. And I thought things couldn't get any worse.

Seeing that she wasn't going to get a response, Brooke walked to the door and opened it. "Do you hear that? They've been yelling at each other since I got home! Their marriage was already on the rocks! Do you want them to get a divorce? Is that why you ran to the media?"

Kaitlyn swallowed hard. The last thing she needed right now was an argument. "I didn't know that this--any of this--would happen. Don't blame me!" Tears started to fall--again.

"But it's your fault! Why shouldn't I blame you? I bet you did it for the money, anyhow! You're always about the money. Greedy brat!"

Kaitlyn looked at her in disbelief. "And this coming from the richest girl in Smallville!" But she realized that it really had been for the money. Seven thousand dollars had sounded so good back then. Now she would pay a million dollars just to go back in time.

"Some friend you are," Brooke grumbled. She leaned against the wall and sighed angrily.

All was silent, except the girls' crying.

"You know, I'd hoped that if I kept Mom's secret, my parents would get over their issues and stay together. For three months, I was silent. How was I rewarded? My best friend runs and tells the whole freaking state the moment she catches wind of it! I hate you, Katie. I bet you didn't even think that there'd be consequences, did you?"

Kaitlyn shivered in disgust. She looked her friend straight in the eye. "But I got punished! Worse than you can imagine! You have no idea how sick to my stomach I am right now! I know it's my fault, everything that's happened today! You can't even begin to know what this feels like!"

"Tell me, Kate. I can understand; I'm not stupid. Let me 'feel your pain,'" Brooke said mockingly.

"You. Will. Never. Understand. This. Pain!" she screamed.

Brooke glared at her for a full ten seconds before picking up Kaitlyn's bag. She threw it out into the hallway. "Then get out."

Kaitlyn blinked at her. "I can't go," she whispered, suddenly frightened.

"I think you can."

"No, you don't understand. My parents--"

"I'm done listening to you, Kaitlyn. Get out. Now."

Kaitlyn stared, wide-eyed. Brooke looked like she was ready to rip her head off.

"Do not make me smack you."

Kaitlyn ran out the door. She had been abused enough today. Nowhere was really safe anymore. She would drive and drive until Kansas and her old life were out of sight. She would never come back.

Bring on the flames. I mean, *cough* the reviews. I'm trying to keep it positive, here.