Miss Lois Lane (mslane) wrote in parabolical, @ 2009-02-10 00:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | lois lane (comics), narrative |
I Hate Myself For Losing You (DC!Lois; narrative)
Who: Lois Lane
What: Lois breaks down.
When: early morning
Where: Lois's apartment
Rating: PG-13, for a little anger and violence towards things in her apartment... and possibly herself.
Status: Narrative; complete
Note: long ass!narrative is long. Read at your own risk.
The strained sounds of the clock radio filtered into Lois's ears as she awoke. She groaned as she turned over in the bed, not really wanting to move. All she wanted to do was sleep, dream, maybe... forget. But she couldn't. She knew she had to get up and go to work, pretending as if nothing had happened. And as far as her co-workers would know, nothing had happened. She'd plaster on a smile, or just pretend she was too far absorbed in whatever she was doing to really pay attention to the rest of them.
She rolled onto her back on the bed, and she stared up at the ceiling, somewhat blankly, she hated the fact that she was waking up alone... yet again, and probably always now.
She lay there, silently, feeling herself start to drown in the overwhelming sense of depression that continually seemed to fill her these days. She laid there, and tried to ignore it, but, finally, she forced herself out of bed.
She didn't bother to turn off the radio. She could barely hear it now, everything seeming to fade away as her thoughts overtook her.
Clark hates me.
She moved into autopilot, walking into the bathroom as the thought occurred to her.
The man I love hates me, and he wants nothing to do with me anymore.
She realized she wanted to be angry with him, to hate him back, for all the terrible things he'd said to her the night before, and for telling practically the entire city his side of the story.
And, strangely, he didn't really have a "side" to the story. He hadn't been there. He'd been dead. He'd been dead, and she'd been in mourning, and all he knew was what she'd confessed. And she hadn't even confessed everything to him.
Sure, maybe he'd had some idea of the emotional pain she'd endured, but he knew nothing of the rest of it. He didn't know that for days, her entire body hurt, and not in a good way. He didn't exactly know how the entire thing, before and after, had effected her mind. He didn't know what kind of damage had been done, not really. He didn't realize, that in two instances, when she'd looked into his eyes and had seen anger, she'd thought of that monster. Just a flicker of anger, and she was shuddering on the inside, completely unwilling to admit that her fiance scared her now when he got mad.
The way he'd treated her the night before had made things even worse. The way he'd spoken to her reminded of some of the things Bizarro had said to her, some of the things he'd done. Maybe the two were a lot more alike than she'd ever realized.
She shook her head, feeling a single tear fall down her cheek.
It's all my fault.
The words were as clear as day, as crystal.
It was her fault.
If she hadn't been so weak...
Her weakness had caused it all.
She had allowed herself to play the grieving widow, even when she'd known Clark probably wouldn't have wanted that for her. She'd continued, even when she'd been told he'd be back. She let her grief and her pain get the best of her, and it had made her weak. It'd made her susceptible to Bizarro's taunting and toying, and caused a further weakness. Her body had developed its own weakness, one that allowed the taunting and toy to get to her in a way they shouldn't have.
And then her weakness had gotten her backed up into a corner.
She shouldn't have been on that street that night.
She shouldn't have been alone.
She shouldn't have been so stupid to believe that he wouldn't come after her.
But she had been, all those things, and he had come after her.
He'd made her trust him somehow, made her stupidly believe he could be like Clark.
She'd given into her weakness, to her pain, had given in just because she wanted to feel like she was with her fiance, one last time.
But she hadn't gotten to be with her fiance.
She'd given her body to a monster, one who had hurt her in more ways than she'd thought possible.
He'd wreaked havoc on her mind and her body and her heart, and the moment he'd laid his hands on her, she'd wanted to die. She'd almost wished that when he was done, he would kill her.
But he hadn't.
And she wasn't the only one who'd been hurt by her weakness.
Lana.
Bart.
Chris.
And eventually, Clark.
"God, what have I done?"
As the words left her lips, she found herself looking into the mirror, and saw her cheeks flood with tears.
And, suddenly, the words of the song on the radio were clear. Way too clear.
I hate myself for losing you
I'm seeing it all so clear
I hate myself for losing you
What do you do when you look in the mirror
And staring at you is why he's not here?
She stared blankly into the mirror, as the words began to sink in, slowly but surely.
And oh, I don't know what to do
Not sure that I'll pull through
I wish you knew
I wish you knew
And oh, I don't know what to say
And I don't know anyway
Anymore...
Her anger at herself seemed to bubble up inside of her as the song reached a high point.
Within seconds, a violent cry of frustration came out, and her right fist was suddenly slamming into the mirror.
For a short time, she felt numb, as she backed up, her back finally hitting the opened bathroom door. She slid downward, until she was sitting on the floor.
She sat, amidst the pile of shattered glass, staring off into space, for what felt like a lifetime.
Her face was blank, her heart felt empty, and she felt as fragile as the now-blood-stained glass on the bathroom floor.
As the feeling slowly returned to her injured hand, her mind seemed to returned to her as well.
A newfound clarity swept through her, as she again admitted the truth she'd known for some time.
"This isn't me."
This wasn't Lois Lane, fearless girl reporter.
This wasn't Lois Lane, the girl who'd been dubbed "Miss Independent" by her co-workers when she'd first joined the Daily Planet.
She didn't even recognize the girl she'd seen in the mirror moments before.
And in an instant, she realized the truth.
She didn't just hate herself for losing Clark.
She didn't just hate herself what she'd done.
She suddenly hated herself by how much she'd let him become her life.
She hated herself for letting her relationship with him soften her up.
Once, she was hard and cold, and hard to get through to at times. She'd been that way the moment they'd met, and she'd changed, as their relationship had grown and matured. And when he'd died, that had been her breaking point. It had been when she'd lost herself completely. It was a slow, steady process.
And as she sat there, broken and bleeding, for the first time she realized that in order to become the woman she once was, she'd have to give up on the only thing that had ever mattered to her.
And after the way he'd acted, she honestly wondered if it was for the best.
How do you cry when every day you shout
"Don't ever bring him back again?"
I hate myself for loving you...