Look at me. Updating quickly :)

[][][]

Dr. Henson's office felt… familiar. Peyton shifted on her feet as she looked around the room and took the space in. He had a desk on the left side of the room with a chunky computer on top. Diplomas and certificates hung on the wall behind it, along with a floor-to-ceiling bookcase full of psychology texts. On the other side of the room were a couple small couches and a coffee table over an old rug. The wall near the couches had more personable, quirky art. There was a framed painting of a cat jumping at a butterfly, another of a picture of the night sky with the Milky Way galaxy being reflected in a pool of water below, and another poster of some jungle foliage. It was eclectic and didn't match, but it somehow made sense for him. Peyton wasn't sure why she assumed that.

Lex stood next to her while she acclimated and Peyton forced herself to focus. Dr. Henson stood next to the window to the left of his desk and watched her take in the room with just as much interest as she viewed it.

He was a small, older man, with a mostly white beard and round glasses. His khaki pants and sweater vest gave him a dorky professor vibe that exuded a nonthreatening air.

"I appreciate you coming by, Peyton," Dr. Henson said in greeting.

"It sounds like you didn't leave much of an option to reject the invitation," said Lex on her behalf.

Peyton gave his hand a squeeze in reassurance and took a step forward.

"I understand your curiosity, doctor," she said, "and I can appreciate it. But I have to warn you that I won't be bullied. I will be leaving today with my own records."

Dr. Henson appeared to be, if anything, an attentive listener. At this point Peyton was unfazed by people staring at her like she was a talking dog when they met her and she didn't take his open evaluation personally.

"Of course," he agreed after a moment. "But I must admit that I was hoping to speak with you. Would you be amenable to that?"

They'd shown up. Peyton already knew that's what his goal was when she agreed to come, and this may be one of the few opportunities to actually try and figure out what could have brought her here in the first place. And figuring out a way home was a goal that she'd been too lax in fully taking on.

"We can talk."

His demeanor lightened and he gestured towards the couches as he shuffled over to them himself. There were files sat out on the coffee table, her files, and Peyton eyed them as she sat down. Lex sat down next to her, further from Dr. Henson so that they could more easily talk and she gave him an appreciative smile before she refocused.

Dr. Henson leaned back and propped an ankle over his knee as he studied her.

"It is good to see you again. I must admit that I found myself curious over the past couple years if your state ever improved."

"It has," Peyton replied evenly. He was at least addressing her and not directing his statements toward Lex, which was still more than her own mother most of the time. "I agreed to come here, Dr. Henson, because I hoped you might have some insight into…" She didn't exactly know how to classify what was wrong with her. "My situation," she settled on. "I understand that we've had a few… sessions before."

"Do you not remember our previous meetings?" His fingers tapped against his leg like he wished he had a pen in his hand.

Peyton swallowed with a wince. It felt strange to speak this openly about what she experienced, even if he'd seen her before. But she would likely have to give him something to go off of.

"Not right now," she admitted stiltedly. "But sometimes I do get….memories."

She looked to Lex, uneasily, in a bid for reassurance of her own, and he gave her a small nod as he put his arm over her shoulder. Peyton let out a breath and refaced the doctor.

Just because she was willing to share some information to try and get answers of her own didn't mean she was willing to spill everything. It felt too vulnerable. Too insane. She doubted he'd even believe most of it.

Exactly how she doubted he'd believed her parallel world theory.

No, she hadn't told him that.

Wait, had she?

"That is fascinating. Do you remember me at all?"

Peyton wasn't quite willing to admit that she'd exchanged emails with a Dr. Henson before getting stuck in this world. So instead, she pressed her lips together and shook her head.

"Not much, I'm afraid."

"As it was," Lex popped in, "we didn't have many meetings with the good doctor."

He was still disapproving, and it didn't sound like his dislike for Dr. Henson had changed much from when he explained why he stopped the appointments. Dr. Henson only shifted his gaze to Lex briefly, though it appeared that Lex's poke bothered him a little.

"Unfortunately true," Dr. Henson agreed. "I do believe there was potential for progress to be made in diagnosing your condition."

"If we only ignored ethics," Lex said with a tense smile

Peyton put her hand on his knee and gave him a warning squeeze. There was no reason to start a fight in the first few minutes of their conversation.

"I'm only interested in any information that may shed some light on everything for me as I move forward," she explained pointedly.

Dr. Henson tapped the side of this leg again and hummed under his breath as he thought.

"Well that's a bit difficult to provide, isn't it?" He studied her so intensely that Peyton actually broke eye contact first. She pulled both her hands back into her lap and fiddled with the ends of her sleeves; he watched every movement.

"It would be helpful to do another cognitive test, for comparison's sake. Then I could assess the growth."

"I like to think it's an obvious difference." Peyton frowned.

"Indeed, there's no doubt about that. But it's still helpful for tracking purposes, and it would give us a basis to start anew from."

The statement caught Peyton mildly off guard. She stared as she realized the full investment Dr. Henson held.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Just to be clear, I'm not looking to become a patient again. I'm merely leaving no stone unturned, even if you may not be able to give me the help I need."

"And what sort of help do you believe you need?"

That answer was, of course, entirely theoretical. All he knew about was her lack of intelligence and processing abilities, he had no clue she was from another world. What she needed was enough evidence, enough material, to take to some scientist and get them to start working on a way to help her get home. Not a psychological exam.

"Not therapy," she said, her tone gentle in an attempt to not to come across as snobbish.

"Are you sure?"
Dr. Henson's kick back was even more of a surprise than trying to get her back into appointments to study her. Peyton didn't speak as the words lingered.

"Such a sudden shift in demeanor has to be a shock to your body and mind. And if you do continue to recollect memories, I can only imagine your mind will process them at least partially as a sort of trauma. Like a man waking up to realize he's been in a coma the last ten years. That has effects on one's psyche. Have you been able to reconcile with the memories you have received?"

She stiffened, the muscles in her back grew tight, and she fought to maintain her coolly composed expression. The question felt too personal in a way she couldn't explain. Perhaps because it felt like a fault on her part. Like failing a test she didn't study for. How could she even explain they weren't her memories to reconcile?

But they were her memories. She felt them.

By that thought, the delay in her answer was answer enough. Dr. Henson nodded thoughtfully.

"I know it may seem daunting, but my job is to help people, Peyton. Nothing said here ever passes these walls."

"I- I would have to see if I had the time," Peyton settled on.

It was a ridiculous, blatant deflection and everyone knew it. She came here admitting she was looking for some form of help; obviously she had some spare time. "But I think today I'd like my records."

Dr. Henson pressed his lips together in clear disapproval, but didn't allow himself to look as irritated as she was sure he must have felt.

"Of course," he relented. "I'm all booked today as it is." He gestured to the folders on the coffee table with a lazy twist of his hand. "Those are copies of your records for your keeping. I believe I have enough time before my next appointment to go over them with you, if you like."

Well, that was the entire reason why she came.


Jonathan Kent grunted as he loaded up the back of his truck. He'd filled the back of the old truck bed with as much as it could hold of goods to take into town and try to sell to the local shops and grocers. It was an extra trip into town, one he didn't usually make, but the farm needed the income and he wasn't sure what else to do. Even with supplying weekly deliveries to the Luthor place, it wasn't adding up to enough. It only added insult to injury, for him.

Jonathan closed the truck bed as Martha hurried around the side of the house, a large white bucket in her hands filled with tulips. The water sloshed dangerously close to the rim as she rushed, and Jonathan jogged over to take the hefty container from her hands.

"Oh good, you haven't left," Martha said.

"Just about to. What's this?"

Martha gestured at the flowers with a small, sly smile.

"Tulips, last I checked."

Jonathan rolled his eyes.

"I mean what are they for? I don't remember getting an order."

"We haven't." Martha followed alongside him to his truck and opened the cab door so he could slide the bucket onto the floor on the passenger side. "But I was hoping that since you'll be in town you could stop by Nell's and see if she'd be willing to buy some. I have a couple more buckets around the side of the house."

Jonathan grunted again and stood with his hands on his hips as he thought it over.

"I can try," he said. "But I've heard rumor that Nell's been talking about putting the place up for sale."

Martha gasped and put a hand on her chest.

"No," she lamented. "She's owned that shop since before Clark was born."

Jonathan cast an amused look at his wife and crossed his arms.

"Martha, we have no idea when Clark was actually born." She smacked him lightly on the arm.

"Oh, you know what I mean! I just can't believe she'd actually get rid of it. It's a real shame."

"Yeah, well, seems like business hasn't been great for a lot of folks recently."

Martha sighed at the statement and they shared a look, though Jonathan broke and looked away first with a stubborn, shamed glower. He dropped his arms and jutted his chin towards the house.

"I'll get those other flowers. Maybe she'll buy a couple for old time's sake."


Lex pulled to a stop in front of Dr. Hamilton's dingy barn and stepped out of his Porsche. The barn looked the same as it did the first time he saw it, like it was ready to be swallowed back up by the encroaching foliage and not like it housed possibly some of the most interesting scientific discoveries the world could offer.

He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and made his way to the door where he let himself in without any fanfare.

Dr. Steven Hamilton was a brilliant researcher. He'd been one of the first to handle moon rocks from the Apollo mission, and he'd had an impressive career as a mineralogist at Metropolis University. But it'd all crumbled to nothing in the years after the Smallville meteor shower. All it had taken was for him to suggest that the meteor rocks might alter cellular makeup, and it was enough for the establishment to kick him out of Met U for his "crackpot theory".

A theory that Lex found more and more interesting the longer he stayed in Smallville.

Much to his distaste, even with the funding he supplied Dr. Hamilton, the barn "lab" hadn't changed much. There were a few updated pieces of testing machinery, but it was still a dimly lit space more suitable for drive through tourists than legitimate work. But if the man could still provide results, Lex could excuse the conditions of his working space.

"Dr. Hamilton," Lex called out when he didn't immediately see the doctor.

A rustle came from across the barn and Lex was finally able to see the man in question. He wasn't dressed like a professional working in a lab; he looked more like the crackpot the establishment claimed he was, with too many layers and a scarf. As if he lived in the barn with his experiments. Lex funded him well enough that he should be able to afford rent now.

"Oh, it's you," Dr. Hamilton drolled, clearly less than thrilled. "Come to check in on my work again?"

"Well, I am paying for it. And quite well, may I add."

"I already told you that I'd send reports back with any significant findings. You can't schedule scientific discoveries, Lex."

"I don't expect immediate results, doctor," Lex lobbied back, "but I do expect data. Some sort of findings."

Dr. Hamilton jabbed his thumb behind him at a table filled with scales and beakers and other scientific equipment. Lex could see the green rose that he'd sent over in a plastic container, there were a few petals removed and undergoing different experiments.

"I'm doing a cellular breakdown on the specimen right now. All I can definitively say at the moment is that it does have some unusual properties. Perhaps if I was able to get a soil sample as well-"

"Done," Lex said.

The quick response appeared to surprise Dr. Hamilton, though it really shouldn't have. It meant nothing to Lex to dig up a bit of dirt from the garden and have it sent over. Not if it meant getting a step closer to some answers.

"But I should remind you," Lex continued, "that I'm not interested in what the meteor rock does to flowers, Dr. Hamilton. I want to know the effect it has on people."

"Science is a process," Dr. Hamilton argued. "You have to build your way up or you won't have a foundation to work from. I can't just punch in some numbers and get you results like it's a simple calculation."

Lex was a patient man, though he didn't always like to be. He scowled but relented to the man's expertise with a faint nod of his head.

"If that's your process," he allowed. "I expect to see a report of today's findings in my inbox by tomorrow morning." The doctor gave a sneer of a smile and Lex turned around to exit the barn.

"Send me those progress reports, doctor, and you won't have to see me."

If Dr. Hamilton had to start with the rose, then so be it. But there was no doubt that there was something to the man's theory about meteor rock having an effect on living organisms.

After all, Lex was proof of that himself.


Peyton drummed her fingers over the top of her mouse as she stared, unseeing, at the stupid correspondence in front of her. The folder from Dr. Henson sat at the edge of her desk, and she couldn't stop looking at it even though she'd told herself she'd forget about it for a bit and get some work done.

But it was hard to focus.

She shook her head and straightened her back as she faced her laptop once more.

The computer still turned on, she hadn't gotten any angry emails, and so far she hadn't been locked out of any of her usual files. (She hadn't dared open any financial folders.) With any luck, whoever had been on the other end hadn't found her information. As relieved as she wanted to be by that hope, Peyton still felt on edge. And the information from Dr. Henson only served as an additional distraction.

It wasn't enough. There weren't any real answers; nothing to sate her desperation or

give her a stronger hope of figuring out what was wrong with her. Figuring out a way home . But it was enough to be haunting. To feel like another thread in a tapestry she'd yet to fully see.

Peyton pushed away from her desk with a frustrated grunt and stood up to pace. She had spent so much time ignoring her biggest problem, what should have been her main concern, and the trip to Dr. Henson's office brought it all back into focus. Her hands, her mind, itched to do something. To make some sort of tangible progress.

It wasn't right to embrace her mother when the other one was likely weeping over her. How could she hug her father when another was likely trying to keep a family together?

Jacen and Orion. They needed her. Who else would keep them out of trouble? Who would take them to the cool action movies their mother hated and sneak them sweets when they came to visit?

And Clara. Clara who worked so hard but refused to bring work home with her. Who could just sit and read The Hobbit for the hundredth time and call it fun.

No.

Not The Hobbit.

Clara liked Jurassic Park. Annalise liked The Hobbit . Why- why did she get that mixed up?

Peyton stared at the floor for a moment as she tried to sort it out. Tried to think. It was all too much for one brain. So many memories, so many specifics to try and recall without getting it all jumbled.

Panic threatened to bubble up and Peyton forced it back down. Fretting and crying wouldn't get her anywhere. It certainly wouldn't give her any answers. She needed to organize.

She was good at organizing.

There was a box of pushpins in her desk; Peyton grabbed them and tossed them on top of her new files before she turned to the side wall, the one without a window. It only held a few art pieces and a podium with a plant set on top at one end. She stripped the wall of its frames and shoved them and the plant behind her desk to clear space.

Getting the basics down took her a minute. Peyton pilfered paper from her printer and jotted down each significant moment since the start of all this, then tore the piece and tacked it in a sort of timeline across the wall.

Meeting Lex as a child.

The moments at school.

Christmas.

The crash on the bridge.

Between those, and slightly above, she added the little bits and pieces that had come up during her time here. The parts she shouldn't know about but somehow did.

Lex's birthday party.

The Barbies with Annalise.

Biting her tongue.

Below the timeline she added questionable parts.

The book mix up.

The cough medicine.

Dr. Henson.

It all had to add up somehow. Or, she at least had to figure out a way to keep it straight. If memories were bleeding through, then she ought to keep track of them. The thought made her want to spiral. The fear that she might lose herself had festered from the moment Lex called out her knowledge. Strangely, she never felt like she forgot anything; but unusual bits were just slightly muddled. Or shifted.

Somehow it felt just as foreboding.

The wall was a mess of scrap paper covered in messy writing. Peyton stepped back to look at all of it and didn't feel any sense of understanding dawn on her. She tore off another strip of paper and wrote,

"Mom couldn't have children, I the baby almost died."

She tacked it at the far left side, as a sort of starting point for the timeline here. It could be nothing, but she was beginning to wonder if she had the leisure to dismiss anything in her situation.

After a moment of thought, she tacked up a sketch of the symbol on her head as well. In order for Lex to never have noticed it, she must have gotten it fairly young. Which would also mean that her parents would have known and been involved.

Seeing all the paperwork, the documentation, calmed some corner of Peyton's psyche; it gave her some sense of control, despite how false it may be. She continued to shove down her distress and forced herself to breathe calmly.

It was a start. That had to be something.

Peyton stared at it all, the manic energy that urged her to act started to fizzle out. She rested her forehead against the wall and stood in the silence.

The silence was broken a moment later by the shrill tone of her phone ringing. She winced, her face scrunching in irritation, before she pulled herself away from the wall and picked up her phone from her desk.

"Peyton speaking."

"Lady of the manor, I do believe we agreed we were going to keep in touch better."

Annalise. Peyton rubbed at her face and swallowed down her insecurities to shift back into a lighter disposition.

"Oh please, it hasn't even been that long," Peyton said with a roll of her eyes. "Things have still been a bit busy around here."

"What could you possibly be busy with?" Annalise questioned. "It can't be letter writing. So what is it? Lex's plant? I heard that was a whole mess."

Peyton frowned and crossed one arm over her rib cage as she stared into the distance.

"Who said that?"

"Oh, you know how talk is," Anna said flippantly. "And then there was that whole hostage thing, right?"

"We cleared all that up. And since when have you been keeping up with the plant?" Annalise scoffed.

"Girly, even I'll pay attention to something like that. And anyway, I was just curious about how it was all going. I know Lex and Lionel have had, like, you know. Issues."

Peyton wasn't exactly sure why Annalise would care. She had no idea what exactly they might have even talked about before Peyton came to her senses. It was another perplexing thought, actually. Why would Annalise have bothered with her for so long?

"I don't know what they've been discussing," she lied. "But I bet it's so boring; who cares about that? What have you been up to?"

Annalise paused a moment before she forced out a laugh and settled back in. She was more than happy to report that she actually had shortened her bridesmaid dress and been able to use it at a new club opening. Apparently it had been a hit, with more than a couple compliments. At least it was getting some use, Peyton supposed.

They chatted a bit longer, though Peyton didn't have a lot to offer in the way of excitement. She didn't mention Dr. Henson for obvious reasons, and she didn't bring up Lionel's comments during their dinner when she talked about the family bonding time. But she gave Annalise enough to paint a harmlessly awkward picture of how the evening went. For entertainment's sake. But Annalise seemed mildly suspicious.

"Oh, I can't imagine that's it," she chided. "I bet there's more juicy details than that, but I get it. Lex is probably around or has cameras right? It's fine. We can gossip freely whenever I come visit."

"Visit?"

"Duh," Annalise said. And Peyton could picture the head tilt and eye roll that came with the word. "I have to get an actual tour of this town; I didn't have time to see it at your wedding. There's got to be something alluring to it for you and Lex to not be fighting to get out, and I doubt it's the fertilizer factory."

"Funny," Peyton remarked skeptically, "you've never come to me before."

"Yeah, well, you've never had as much going on before. People change, right?"

'She could like fashion magazines and literature', is what Peyton heard.

It was still odd that Annalise would care enough to come back and actually give Smallville a second look. But perhaps there was something to Annalise's statement. Perhaps she was genuinely more curious about Peyton's shift than she'd openly expressed.

"Fair enough. As long as you give me a heads up so I can make sure the house is clean."

"You have gotten so hilarious. I can totally give you notice so you can make sure that you and Lex aren't-"

Peyton hung up.


Lex found Peyton back at the manor in her office. He rapped his knuckle against her door frame as he entered and noted the stack of frames behind her as she sat calmly at her desk. She looked up from her laptop when he walked in and gave him a smile.

"Hey, Lex. Did you go to the plant?"

There was something off in the air. Lex's gaze flickered to the side and he nearly did a double take when he saw the wall.

There were scraps of paper pinned in a line along the middle of the wall, some sitting higher or lower than others, but all stretching out in something that looked like a timeline. Peyton saw him look at it and her expression flickered, like she hadn't meant for him to see it. The look passed quickly, she buried it as she stood and tried to put on a more neutral air.

"Oh, that," she said before he could answer her question. Her tone implied she was trying to brush it under the rug. "It's nothing, really."

"Kind of looks like you're trying to start your own Wall of Weird."

"It's nothing new. Nothing you don't already know about."

He looked over her notes and she rounded her desk to stand next to him; Lex noted that she wrung her hands once before she flexed her fingers and dropped them at her sides.

It was a bullet point list of what she considered important to her time here. His heart, even now, skipped a beat at seeing her specifically name him in her lineup. But she was right, they were all moments he already knew about, mostly because he'd been involved in all of them.

Except the notes slightly below the timeline. He pointed to them and she stopped her expression mid-grimace.

"What are these," he asked.

"Just- just a couple times I've… mixed things up." She cleared her throat and attempted to sound casual. "Or questionable events," she clarified. "Stupid things. Like, Annalise likes The Hobbit and Clara liked Jurassic Park , not the other way around."

"I see."

It was interesting, to see how she tried to make sense of it, how her mind worked to break it down. He eyed the beginning of the timeline and noted it started with meeting him for the first time, the note about her mother's infertility pinned above it like an afterthought.

"You didn't include anything before this," he observed. Peyton looked confused. "Were there no signs or events before we met that alerted you? Nothing important from… your other life?"

The immediate look on her face broadcasted loud and clear that she hadn't considered including any of that. She stared at the far end of her timeline and brushed her bangs from her eyes before crossing her arms.

"I don't- I doesn't really matter, does it? They- they kind of go together anyway, right? Every note would just be about me falling asleep."

"Didn't you say something about this last time," Lex questioned. "That you weren't?"

She nodded her head reluctantly.

"Right," she conceded. "I was at work. My boss had me filing extra paperwork for a merger, and I had to stay late. I was ticked. I guess I just, sort of, blacked out in the middle of all that."

"It could be relevant," Lex said.

She huffed to herself then grabbed another piece of paper and jotted down, "passed out, woke up here" then held it above the note about the car crash and shoved a tack through the page. Her jerky movements told Lex she had her feather's ruffled, and he assumed she was shifting her uncertainty into irritation at his call outs.

"Anything else you'd like to add to my timeline?" She gave him a look, and Lex kept the smile off his face.

"Far be it for me to interfere with your process," he said. "My apologies."

Her expression flickered again and her entire demeanor dropped.

"No," she said as she shifted closer to him and her gaze trailed briefly down his arm, "I'm sorry. I know you're trying to help, I just- It's been a long day. I'm mentally drained, and all I really want is to-"

She stopped herself suddenly and Lex's head tilted in curiosity.

"What? Whatever it is, I can try to get it for you, or make it happen."

"Nothing," she said quickly. "It's nothing; never mind. What about you? What were you up to this afternoon?"

"Not much," he said. He took a step back and pressed his lips together in a mimic of a smile. "I had a few things to oversee, but luckily nothing needed intervention."

"That's good."

Lex felt a twinge, a pinch of discomfort, at the fact that he didn't mention Dr. Hamilton specifically. It wasn't like he was doing anything wrong with funding the man's research. There wasn't anything distinctly untoward with their deal, but he still didn't feel eager to bring it up.

Their partnership might not be illegal or malicious, but people still might frown upon it. The fact that it centered around meteor rock "crackpot" theories would make most question Lex's judgment. And if he were a better man, a good husband, then he'd probably be putting all this effort into helping his wife reach her goals.

But he couldn't quite get himself to do it. He wasn't proud of that, but it still wasn't enough to push him.

He did have feelers out concerning her situation, but not necessarily with the same goals in mind; not with the same starting assumptions.

Lex looked back at her paper timeline and the guilt worsened. She was so open about everything. Any new development, she took to him; and even if she was embarrassed that he saw it, she didn't demand he not look over her new work. The only parts she ever tried to keep away from him were parts of herself; the parts she thought, he assumed, would hurt worse or be too vulnerable to expose. The parts he could guess.

He could bring up Dr. Hamilton later. At a better time. When she wasn't so exhausted and clearly troubled by her own persistent worries. It would take time to explain anyway; he'd have to go over the data he'd been collecting. Explain the room. And that was too much after she'd already sat down with Dr. Henson and had to hear, once again, about how unsettling she'd been for most of her life.

Besides, he didn't want his father finding out about his research into meteor rock either. After the incident at the plant with Earl and learning about Level Three, Lex realized that he needed to pay far closer attention to whatever side projects his father may be indulging in. Looking into meteor rock on his own was a step in that direction.

So not telling Peyton about it right now would be for the best. It would put less pressure on her to not give anything away when his father came around.

The last thing she needed was more pressure.


Jonathan tapped his hands against the steering wheel as he made his way back home. All-in-all, the trip to town hadn't been a total waste of gas. He'd managed to unload his truck of everything except for two of the four buckets of tulips Martha saddled him with; Nell was kind enough to buy what she could, given her plans to close shop. She said their tulips were popular enough that they sold quickly.

A favorite song played on the radio and he turned the volume up as he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the day; he drummed the wheel again and sang along to the radio. The farm might not be doing as well as he hoped, but they weren't shut down yet and a little hard work went a long way.

A revving engine drew Jonathan's attention away from the radio, and he looked in the rear view mirror to see another vehicle speeding behind him. It gained on him quickly and the driver flashed their lights and laid on their horn, clearly displeased with the speed Jonathan was driving. He wasn't driving slowly; he was even above the limit by a few miles given he was on a back-road, and Jonathan waved his hand at the other driver.

"Whoa, pal! Calm down!"

The driver continued to weave dramatically over the road and incessantly lay on their horn; whoever it was suddenly sped up and didn't back off. Their car hit the back of Jonathan's truck in an attempt to push him off the road. Jonathan shouted as he grabbed the wheel with both hands.

"Hey!"

He was able to get his truck under control, but the crazy driver continued on. The person attempted to pass him on the right hand side and floored it as they passed him. Jonathan was able to see a man with dark hair briefly before the other car leapt ahead. But unfortunately for the other driver, he didn't notice that the road veered to the left and he hit the ditch; his car went partially airborne and then it landed harshly and rolled over onto its side as it skid across a grassy lot.

Jonathan could only watch with a horrified helplessness as it all happened. All in a matter of seconds. He pulled his car over to the side of the road and rushed out to check on the other driver.

Hopefully, the man was still alive.

[][][]

Ruh-roh. How many car accidents can happen in one town? (Too many.)