Into Dust

Into Dust

Flora Winters

I do not own Smallville or any of its amazing characters.

Summary: If he can’t find true love…the blessing of the Moon will become his eternal curse. MM, Language.

Chapter One

The tears were streaming from my eyes and I could not make them stop. There was just too much shit going on in my head and it felt like a fucking train wreck. So many trains representing different emotions were just running right off their tracks and colliding into other emotions.

I was running but I did not know where I was running to. I did, however, know what it was I was running away from. All the hurt and all the pain…but I will never be able to escape it…not ever. I can be so stupid. Why am I doing this? This kind of behavior is not going to change a damn thing. The farther I run…the longer its going to take me to walk back.

I really wished I was brave enough to kill myself. I remember stealing a bottle of really powerful painkillers one time…and was actually going to take them all with a small bottle of rum…but, I was too afraid to go through with my plan.

I’ve always been afraid of not breathing. The thought of not being able to breathe terrifies me. Small, enclosed places make me feel like I’m smothering and I freak the fuck out. Sometimes, I can still hear my screams when my stepfather locked me in the small closet under the stairs. I had clawed at the door until my fingers were bleeding and full of splinters. I clawed until I passed out. The scars are still here.

Wow, my thoughts are all over the fucking place.

Where the hell am I going?

My legs really hurt and I can hear my heart racing in my ears. I stumble and fall to my knees, letting out a small cry of pain as my hands broke my fall. That little tumble had really hurt. I lifted up my hands to see that they were bleeding with bits of debris in them. Seeing the blood really brought back those frightening memories.

Was I shaking?

“Hey,” that familiar voice shouted out from ahead of me, “Are you all right?”

I looked up from my hands to see that it was Clark who was running towards me from the railing. Was I on a bridge? I don’t remember getting here. Why didn’t I see him before? I had bits of broken glass sticking out of my palms.

It was as if he were by my side in a flash and I could feel the warmth and worry just radiating off of him. When he touched me, it startled me, causing me to jump and fall back on my ass.

“I’m fine,” I stuttered and tried to get up.

“You don’t look fine,” he said and I could see the concern plainly written on his face. It was his big green eyes that gave his emotion away.

He took my wrists and helped me up. My knees were killing me and the backs of them were aching like a mother. I hissed when he turned my hands over so he could look at my bleeding palms.

“Don’t touch me,” I hissed and pulled my hands free from his bigger ones and pushed him away.

My eyes closed and squinted as my hands clawed in pain. That had stung like a bitch and it probably pushed the glass in deeper. This was just great. My stepfather was going to…do something not nice.

“You have glass in your hands,” Clark said looking at me in concern…not at all put off by my rudeness…he must get that a lot, “Let me look at it.”

“And what can you do,” I asked stepping back as he took a step forward.

I paled when he looked at me with a huge question mark on his face. Did he know? Did he know that something was wrong? Why did I do that? He meant me no harm…at least I don’t think he did. His eyes are too honest and his hands are…gentle.

“I grew up on a farm,” he smiled and it was big…sort of goofy, “I think I know how to deal with these sorts of injuries, Darrian.”

“How do you know my name,” I asked and suddenly remembered the conversation I had snooped in on in the school library. It had been that blonde headed girl named Chloe, who seemed to know a great deal about me. I wondered why.

“Small town,” he said taking my left hand gently in his and looked it over…followed by my right.

“These look like they’re in pretty deep,” he said looking into my eyes, “You might need a doctor.”

“No,” I said just a little too loud and quickly lowered my volume, “I don’t like doctors…they make me nervous.”

“Me, too,” he said and quickly took off his backpack.

What in the hell was he was he looking for?

Tweezers?

The man carried around tweezers.

How…odd…

“Chloe,” he said looking up at me from his knees, “She likes to play detective sometimes…and she expects me to carry everything except the kitchen sink…but I’m still waiting for her to hold out her hand and ask for that.”

That made me laugh. It was just his tone of voice and the way he said it. It was funny. It was really funny. Now he thinks I’m a complete and total nutcase.

But, he was smiling. That was a good thing. Did people not laugh at his jokes? That is a damn shame. He’s funny…and nice.

“Maybe we should get off the bridge,” he said and I followed him, “This is a small town, but you never know when something crazy might happen.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

Crazy could happen when you least expect it.

“Let’s sit down over there under those trees ,” he said pointing where they were at and I continued to follow him.

I sat down in the cool shade of the trees and he sat down in front of me. He held out a big brown hand and I slowly offered mine…which he took gently.

I hissed several times as he pulled bits and pieces of glass out. It did not hurt too bad and I wondered how he had learned this. This was a small farming town…must be a trick of the trade…or something.

The way he was holding one hand and then the other was making me blush. I could not help it. His hands were so big and so gentle. They looked as though they could knock a bitch through a wall…or tear metal to shreds.

I was mesmerized by the time he got done wrapping each of my hands with some kind of gauze. It was funny. He carried around a first aid kit, too. Just what the hell did he and this Chloe do after school hours. I didn’t know if I wanted to know or not.

“So,” I said with a small smile, “Tweezers and a first aid kit? What do you and Chloe do after school lets out?”

“Oh, you know,” he said nonchalantly as he put everything back into his backpack, “Break into businesses, disrupt crime scene investigations, stick our noses into places where they do not belong.”

My eyes must have been as big as saucers because he threw back his head and howled with laughter, pointing at my face. My expression must have been hilarious because he had tears in his eyes.

“I’m kidding,” he said calming down, “For the most part.”

“Most part,” I asked while cocking a brow at him.

He nodded and then asked, “Why were you crying?”

“I wasn’t crying,” I lied, “I was just out for a jog and lost my balance is all.”

“Oh,” he said and turned to look away, “It was just that your face was wet and your eyes were really red.

“Sweat,” I said, “People do tend to sweat when they jog in the hot sun, Clark.”

“Are you sure,” he asked.

“Well, it’s a scientific fact that people do sweat when,” but he cut me off.

“You know what I meant,” he snorted but his eyes were serious.

I looked down at my bandaged hands and wondered how I was going to explain this to my stepfather. Tim would more than likely call me all sorts of names and probably get me into even more trouble.

Shit!

Tim would blame me for the shattered frame at the top of the stairs. Well, that would explain the bandages…but it would not save my ass.

“Hey,” Clark asked in concern as he gripped each of my shoulders with powerful hands, “You’re really pale. Are you okay?”

I could feel the power in those big hands and it frightened me. But, he was like a gentle giant. I would hate to be the one to really piss him off. It was always the nice ones you don’t want to piss off. Oh, it takes a lot to get that fuse to light…but once that fuse runs out…run!

“I’m fine,” I said and noticed that I was breathing really hard.

Was I having a panic attack?

It did not take much to set my stepfather off. That shattered frame would really piss him off. I try…I really do…but I can never seem to do anything right. I try so hard to stay on his good side…but Tim always fucks it up. I hate that stupid prick. I fucking hate him! And I hate my stepfather even more.

It was my fault. Everything was my fault.

I felt like I was going to throw up.

“Hey,” Clark asked in concern, “What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t answer. My voice was stuck in my throat. The fucking cat had my tongue…and it wasn’t letting go.

I got to my feet and started to stumble away back to the bridge. He was right behind me but I could not understand what he was saying. His words were all jumbled together and it was gibberish.

I gripped the railing and spun around when I thought I heard something. That was when I saw the car heading right for me and I could hear Clark yelling.

“Look out!”

TBC…

Please review and tell me what you think.

Flora.