Spoilers: Smallville, Season Three if you haven't seen it.
Content Rating: PG
Type: Drama
Characters: Clark Kent,, Martha Kent, Pete Ross.
Summary: Inspired by Smallville's third season premiere "Exile", three scenarios i thought should've been included...

Pain

He sauntered along the street as though he owned it. He attracted attention and he revelled in it. A whole new world was opening up for him; one heÂ’d never thought heÂ’d see. He embraced it whole-heartedly and without guilt. He kept thoughts of those heÂ’d left behind at bay by doing what he wanted; it helped to mask the pain.

The blonde was definitely interested in him; sheÂ’d made her intentions clear from the moment heÂ’d paid for the Ferrari in cold hard cash. The cash wasnÂ’t his, but heÂ’d gotten it anyway. It had given him a thrill that girls fell at his feet, begged for his attention, wanted him. But in his mindÂ’s eye all he could see was long dark brown hair and almond shaped green eyes staring up at him beseechingly. The twinge of weakness annoyed him but she was there all the same, like a ghost.

The blonde hadn’t liked the attitude and said so but it didn’t matter to him. He just didn’t care, he didn’t want to care. Everything was his for the taking, if he wanted it bad enough and he wanted it passionately. One phrase existed for him, echoing in his brain like a mantra “What I want I will take. What I want I will have” It wasn’t like anyone could stop him.

Burning hot pain, it ripped viciously through his bloodstream and he gasped at the power of it. He glanced around, wondering if anyone had noticed but nobody had. A second pulse of pain almost brought him to his knees and it was all he could do to hold in the cry that had threatened to burst out of him. He glanced down at his hand, to see the red kryptonite class ring glowing brightly. He wouldnÂ’t bend to Jor-ElÂ’s will, so this was how heÂ’d punish him? Another bolt of pain made him grunt and seek some sort of sanctuary. Ahead of him was a vacant telephone booth. He headed towards it.

He staggered into it, almost tipping it over as a fresh wave of agony rushed through him. His skin was bubbling hot, he could feel the burn searing through his shirt. Tears were crowding the back of his eyes as he scrabbled at the buttons, tearing them open impatiently, anything to get the throbbing to stop. He tried to breathe; the heat seemed to be centred inside of him, cutting off his air supply. He dragged oxygen into his straining lungs then looked down and saw the insignia burned into his chest glowing white-hot and he looked at his hand, to see the ring glowing with the same intensity. He wrenched it off and it was as though someone had switched off a tap. His legs gave out and he fell to the ground. The booth staggered drunkenly but he was too lost to notice. He looked up, at the telephone receiver. Home. He could always phone his mom. He knew she’d be out of her mind with worry right now. He could always call her and let her know he was safe. Then she wouldn’t worry so much. He got to his feet, picked up the receiver and with slightly shaking hands fed in the right amount of change to make the call. He took a deep breath and punched in the number. It rang for a few seconds before someone replied. His spine stiffened when he heard her speak. His heart began to race, wanting to embrace the comfort of that familiar voice. She heard him whisper his name and a lump rose in his throat, threatening to choke him, enough to stop any coherent words from slipping out. ‘Mama,’ he wanted to whisper, ‘mama I’m here’. The words just wouldn’t come. Instead he slammed down the receiver and leaned against it, swallowing against the tears that threatened to escape. He took a deep breath and straightened up, staring resolutely straight ahead. Then he looked down at his hand and uncurled his fist where the ring still was. He stared at it, craving the amnesia that it gave him. Without another thought, he slipped it back on, felt the red fire roaring hungrily through his veins. The pain melted away and he closed his eyes, embracing the emotions that cloaked him once again. He opened his eyes, his dry eyes and smiled to himself and pushed his way out of the phone booth. He bumped shoulders against someone, he didn’t know who.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” the voice complained, a female voice and he glanced at her over one shoulder, seeing long brown hair streaked with blonde, a shapely figure in tight denim and a singlet top. He briefly thought about charming her, flashing her that smile the girls loved so much but decided against it. He was tired, it was time for bed