Like pieces of darkness torn from our cell to rest beneath his flesh with the appearance of inescapable manacles.
Love this description.
How could Clark not blame me for, if nothing else, at least the duration of his imprisonment? As nice as he was, as much as he liked me, didn't human nature itself *demand* that some part of him--no matter how small and neglected a part--hate me for what had happened to him?
How little you understand him, Lois.
And I wondered if the darkness of that cell was actually encased in my heart even more so than in Clark's flesh. His bruises would fade and disappear, banished by the light; mine might fester and grow in shadows.
Another awesome description.
"I think so." He said it confidently, but I wasn't sure how far I could trust his assessment of his own condition since he had, after all, tried to tell me he felt fine the same night Superman rescued us.
Oooh, is he starting to get better thanks to the little bit of sunlight he's absorbed?
"Let me do it," I offered impulsively.
Clark froze. "I...I don't think..."
"It can't be that hard," I interrupted, setting aside the papers and standing up. "Come on."
So incredibly sad!
Another wonderful chapter! I love how much Clark and Lois are opening up to each other. I'm hoping that Clark's near-slipups is a sign that he'll tell Lois about himself soon. Looking forward to the next chapter!!!
