To Feel
folder
Smallville › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
5,658
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Smallville › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
5,658
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Smallville, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
To Feel
A/N: I know some of the episodes are out of order and other things changed, but please go with it. And sorry for the bad summary, I totally forgot I needed one.
Also I know it's short, but that's why I put up chapter 1 too. Hope you like it.
****************************************************
Prologue
*******
I’m not sure when I noticed.
I know it wasn’t when I put my hand in the wood chipper, at that time I was just feeling angry with my parents, shock, disbelief, and some amazement.
But even after that I never really noticed that something was wrong. It had happened slowly enough that I wasn’t really aware; I just thought that what I was touching wasn’t really that hot, or that soft.
Even after having kissed and been kissed I didn’t suspect. I blamed it on anything; powers, meteor rocks, the person didn’t mean anything to me, that it was Tina Greer and not really Lana, that I hadn’t been ready, that the sun was shinning.
I fought the thought with everything that I had, but it seemed each day it was shoved in my face, and each day it grew worse; the needles snapping, the knives shattering, the bullets bouncing off. They used to leave bruises, the bullets I mean… I can’t even remember a time when a simple blade hurt me. But I would relish the ache of it, if only for a few hours, but was it enough?
If I couldn’t be touched, then how could I touch anything? How can you go through life without feeling it? I might know that my mother’s arms are around me, just like I know I’m sitting on a chair, and what slight pressure I can still feel is the same from both of them.
If you can’t touch something, then how can it be real? How could I be real? If I felt no pain, if I couldn’t bleed, how could I possibly be alive? I was as alive as a wall which you can prick, stab and shoot at with the same results as you would me.
So how can I be real?…
I have to be real, because how do you admit to yourself that you’re not alive? I can’t.
I needed to feel, and there was only one thing that could give me that.
**********************
Also I know it's short, but that's why I put up chapter 1 too. Hope you like it.
****************************************************
Prologue
*******
I’m not sure when I noticed.
I know it wasn’t when I put my hand in the wood chipper, at that time I was just feeling angry with my parents, shock, disbelief, and some amazement.
But even after that I never really noticed that something was wrong. It had happened slowly enough that I wasn’t really aware; I just thought that what I was touching wasn’t really that hot, or that soft.
Even after having kissed and been kissed I didn’t suspect. I blamed it on anything; powers, meteor rocks, the person didn’t mean anything to me, that it was Tina Greer and not really Lana, that I hadn’t been ready, that the sun was shinning.
I fought the thought with everything that I had, but it seemed each day it was shoved in my face, and each day it grew worse; the needles snapping, the knives shattering, the bullets bouncing off. They used to leave bruises, the bullets I mean… I can’t even remember a time when a simple blade hurt me. But I would relish the ache of it, if only for a few hours, but was it enough?
If I couldn’t be touched, then how could I touch anything? How can you go through life without feeling it? I might know that my mother’s arms are around me, just like I know I’m sitting on a chair, and what slight pressure I can still feel is the same from both of them.
If you can’t touch something, then how can it be real? How could I be real? If I felt no pain, if I couldn’t bleed, how could I possibly be alive? I was as alive as a wall which you can prick, stab and shoot at with the same results as you would me.
So how can I be real?…
I have to be real, because how do you admit to yourself that you’re not alive? I can’t.
I needed to feel, and there was only one thing that could give me that.
**********************