in which a girl realizes she can be more than the pill popping middle child.
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[fem!oc x timdrake!]
[au timeline]
[description inside]
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THE DAILY PLANET MARCH 03, 11:00
It's been some time since I started working with Clark. I really enjoy it here, and it's not just the people. I genuinely like journalism - well, the fun parts of journalism. It's all just gossip. Whoever can get the most scandalous story wins. The ideal job for a sixteen year old girl.
I've become close with Clark very quickly. Sometimes I feel stupid for thinking of him so fondly after only a couple weeks. But he treats me so well - and after knowing I was kicked out of school. I was shocked when he told me he knew. Surely that's confidential information, an invasion of my privacy.
Clark promised he wouldn't tell anyone else. I made him pinkie promise just to be sure. They're sacred. If he broke that, I'd kill him. I have laser vision and a flip knife.
After the incident in the bathroom, I asked Clark about the woman in the picture on his desk. He told me she was his wife, Lois. I pressed further, if she had said anything, or asked anything about me. He said she hadn't. I'm assuming she didn't tell him about the tissues. I hoped she didn't. The last thing I wanted was Clark thinking I'm completely strange. Well, stranger than I already was.
"Bianca, could you do me a favour and type up this report for me?" Clark asked me.
"Oh, I'm actually really busy right now." I lied to him.
He looked at me with a raised brow as I I tried to fly my paper airplane across the room.
"Yeah, sure." I said with a smile, even through I started to die on the inside a bit. He handed me the papers and I looked at them with uncertainty. My eyes trailed the words in front of me, then to the computer I was meant to type with. I looked harder at the papers, so intensely they might've burst into flames.
The words moved on the page. They moved and jumbled up and I couldn't read it. I put my hands on the sides of my face, frustrated. My one pen fell, and I picked it up, realising my bouncing leg jolted it off of the desk.
Facing the paper once again, I curled one hand into a fist and pressed it against my mouth, now incredibly angry. I moved that hand down to my thigh and started to hit the inside of my wrist against my leg, feeling my anger dissolve into incredible sadness quickly, tears rising in my eyes.
"Bianca?" I heard Clark from behind me. I blinked back the tears and turned to face him. "You okay?" He asked me with concern.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I say with a smile, masking my depression.
"You sure?" He looked behind me, to the papers and the blank computer screen. "Because it's been half an hour, and you've barely started." Merda, has it really been half an hour? [translation: shit]
