A few miles away from the Colorado border.
Pain. Guilt. Shame. That’s how he felt, as he sped down the highway throughout the early morning, and most of the day.
Lost. Broken. Lifeless. That’s how he felt now, as his piercing blue-green eyes stared down at the river flowing beneath him.
The sun was beaming high in the blue skies, as he stood on the side of the highway, his hands clenching the railing of a bridge, almost bending the metal. His head dropped, slightly, as he thought about what his life has turned into.
He destroyed everything that mattered to him. And it all started one week ago…
He opened the door, leading to the storm cellar, and gripped the box, holding the kryptonite key that he stole from Lionel Luthor. He slowly walked down the stairs and approached the ship, which was bathed in a foreboding blue light.
He took several deep breaths, preparing himself. He had to do this. He would not leave his family and friends.
He crushed the box, revealing the kryptonite key, and causing himself immediate pain, as it glowed in his presence. He gasped before falling to his knees.
He slowly, and quite painfully, placed the key in the ships groove, and collapsed to the ground. The pain was too intense.
He crawled away, as fast as he could manage, and watched as the ship festered, burned, and shook violently before it exploded into a blast of bright, white light. The shockwave elicited a ring of white energy, which expanded outwards, destroying everything in its path.
He looked around, completely shocked, at the destruction of the storm cellar. But it was over now. He could be free.
He ran up the stairs, the only thing left standing, and tripped, falling face first into the dirt. He slowly stood up, looking into the distance, and his heart sank.
His parents! He super sped over to the upside-down truck, praying and hoping, they were okay.
Why did he do it? Why couldn’t he have just left well enough alone? If he would have just obeyed his biological father, everything would be okay. But it wasn’t.
He wished—wanted to go back to that horrendous day, and take it all back, but he couldn’t, and he would have to live with what he’s done…forever. He destroyed his family. His family.
They were now grieving for the life they lost, and it was all his fault. He destroyed his ship, causing his parents truck to crash. A crash that put his mother in the hospital.
The hospital where she found out that her baby was gone. Dead. Forever. He killed his unborn baby brother or sister.
And why? Because he defied his biological father. Why? Why didn’t he listen? Why didn’t he accept his fate? His destiny?
He couldn’t. But now, his family is in so, so much pain.
Unbearable. Agonizing. Unreconcilable.
He was to blame for all of it, and he would live within his pain, guilt, and shame for the rest of his life. He softly closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about it, but it would always be there, and he knew that.
His father’s words rung in his head... “There’s no time for excuses, Clark. It’s too late. You didn’t think this thing through! You had no idea what was going to happen, and now…now your mother is lying in a hospital bed.”
He heard the anger. The sadness. The disappointment. The gravity.
It consumed him. It overcame him. It became him.
He broke his father’s trust. He lied to his parents. They couldn’t trust him.
He felt like such a disenchantment. He couldn’t stay. He couldn’t look into their eyes, and see what he felt inside…pain.
Guilt. Shame. A pain, guilt and shame that he would carry on his shoulders. So, he left.
He just wanted to forget…everything. And that’s exactly what he did, but to what cost? After the red kryptonite was gone. He remembered…everything, everything that he did as Kal-El.
He was ashamed of himself.
Pain. Havoc. That's what he caused.
He stole. He bribed. He used. He did whatever the hell he wanted. As Kal, he was unstoppable, and enjoyed everything he did.
He enjoyed stealing. He enjoyed bribing. He enjoyed using. He enjoyed being free. But that wasn’t Clark.
He didn’t steal, he didn’t bribe, he didn’t use, but deep inside, did he want to do those things Did he want to feel free? Liberated? He didn’t know.
Agonizing pain. Unforgettable guilt. Belittling shame.
He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t know what to feel. He didn’t know what to think.
Lost…forever. Broken…deeply. Clark Kent was dead, lifeless, and he was never coming back.
HONK! HONK! HONK!
He quickly spun around, at the sound reverberating in his ear drums. His eyes widened, as he saw a car heading straight for him. It was seconds away from hitting him.
He didn’t have time to think about the best course of action, and held his hands out, stopping it dead in its tracks. He breathed in deeply, as his hands were molded and buried into the metal hood of the car.
His heart was hammering in his chest, as he looked around, hoping and praying that no one saw him using his powers. He sighed, in absolute relief, his secret was safe.
At least he could still save people, he thought, resolutely.
He looked up into the windshield, wanting to make sure that the driver was okay. He figured that the blow would have knocked out the driver, but no, instead he was met with a pair of shocked hazel eyes staring at him.
His eyes widened. His mouth dropped open. His face paled. And then he internally freaked out.
He felt the fear seep into his veins. The frightened notion of what was going to happen. The terrifying thoughts of being dissected like a lab rat. It all hit him at once.
He stared into her eyes. Oh God! What the hell have I just done?
To be continued...