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.*･｡. WAITING FOR SUPERMAN .*･｡.
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008.
POLICE ESCORT.

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——

Lois followed the stone path.

   It was the same beaten path that had been there for years on end. No one had fixed it, at least not since she was little, anyway.

   She strolled past the scattered headstones within the garden, and she eyed the many bouquets, small stuffed toys, envelopes — all that were filled with messages that the lost would never actually get to read. Lois knew the scene like the back of her hand.

   Every inch was the same as it had been that very first year, every detail had ceased to evolve. Even in the dead of night, the graves still looked the same. Nothing had changed, nor had it altered, not even small details had changed within all those many years worth of waiting. Waiting for something to suddenly be a bit different this year, to the last. Nothing ever was.

It had been a year.

One whole year had passed since Lois had last visited; exactly twelve months since she had mustered up enough courage to make an appearance. Perhaps it had been down to the new and hectic changes in her life, the introduction of the supernatural that had kept her far too busy. Or it could have been due to the fact that she hadn't wanted to go. She had been too scared. The idea of going to that cemetery scared her, more than any werewolf ever had done. Though, now it was the anniversary — and that had given her no choice at all. Lois had to go, she had needed to go.

Strange. That's what it was.

   All of it was odd. Lois used to pass by each day after school; she would sit and talk to the woman everyday until the sun went down and she had missed dinner. Those were the days when Lois held enough determination to muscle up and face fears; tackle them. It was overruled by the amount that she missed her mother.

But, as she grew older, the pain had only worsened until it was simply too much to handle.

She was no longer able to bring herself to go visit her mother.

   Lois couldn't find the motivation that she had once, when the memories were still fresh and the wound was still open. It used to be so simple. It had felt so incredibly easy to push aside the anxiety and the numbing pain that would never let her be. Strong. Lois had been so strong back then. These days she could only wonder what had changed.

She loved her mother. She did. But it seemed that as the days went by, that love was the reason for it all. The grief only grew, the pain only worsened, and the passing time had never quite healed the gaping hole in her heart. Her lungs caved at the mere thought of going to the cemetery, and the endless panic and nightmares of that night were more common with each visit. Time was supposed to heal supposedly, but for her, it hadn't. Not one bit. The loss she had been cursed with was overwhelming. It never seemed to give her a chance to breathe. The river of anguish and despair was still roaming freely through her veins, and she felt as if she was fated to drown. It was worse now, than ever before.

Though, Lois couldn't quite recall a single time over the last year that she had shed a tear for the depression that she felt. Lois wasn't sure that she could cry about what had happened anymore, for all of her tears seemed to have run out.

Night terrors would cast shrill screams, heart wrenching cries, and pained groans but not even they had produced any tears.

   The tears had stopped when she was fourteen, but in exchange the images that she saw at night had only become more graphic and more gruesome. The dreams seemed real, it felt so real to Lois.

   Dreams were dreams, like the ones she had always had, but not those ones. These were different. She felt stuck in them, paralysed, as though they had captured her in time and there was no way of possibly getting out. Her dreams held her captive — and when she was stuck, Lois had no hope of getting back out.

No matter how hard she fought.

   No matter how brutally she clawed at what suffocated her.

   When she was in those nightmares, Lois could never get out.

   Stiles had once taught her to count her fingers, that in dreams it would differ to real life, but it was like she had forgotten how to count. Had Lois ever learned how to count? Did she go to school and learn that? Was counting a thing in her dreams? Did she even have fingers? Lois didn't know anymore. In these dreams, she didn't know anything. Nothing made sense. It was all jumbled; wrong.

The figments of imagination had stolen memories. Together, they were able to form a scene so vivid that the girl had been too scared to sleep in fear of actually drowning. It wasn't much of a surprise that she had stopped going to the graveyard, altogether.

The Stilinski family hadn't been able to disguise their concern for the girl when she had asked to be dropped off at the cemetery rather than be taken to the hospital for her head injury.

   They had wanted to take her home to her father, at least, but chose to listen to her. Both Stiles and Noah had remembered the date — of course they had; it was one that they all were sure they could never forget. It was a shared feeling of loss, they understood the grief that consumed Lois daily. They had lost her mother too, and they had lost their own. Out of everyone on this earth, they were the ones that really understood. But they would never know just how much it affected her life daily; she wasn't over it, and she wasn't sure she ever would be.

All those around her ceased to fail in seeing through the act that she used to conceal her true emotions. Everyone knew that she wasn't as happy, but not all of them knew why.

Since that day, she had never been the same. That sweet and innocent little girl had gone, and she would never be coming back.

   Lois knew that, just as they all did.

Lois was never going to be the same, which was why each year her best friend had offered to go with her. This year had been no different — when Stiles insisted to stick by her side. He had said that she didn't have to go alone, that he would be with her if she needed a shoulder to cry on. Lois had been tempted to accept.

But she didn't. If she was going go to surpass the aching terror in her soul, she would have to do it herself.

Both Stiles and Noah had respected her decision, on the single condition that she made sure to notify them that she was safe. To that, she had agreed instantly. There wasn't a doubt that Lois would have done so, whether they had asked or not. It had been seven years since the accident, and it still succeeded in hurting her every single day. When Lois got home, she would sneak through her window and into Stiles' room for the night.

She always did.

   By now, Stiles expected it. And he really didn't mind.

As the particular headstone came into view, Lois found herself hesitating. Truly, the girl wasn't sure if it had been a good idea to come alone, anymore. She hadn't visited in such a long time, that the experience almost seemed foreign.

   Though, as she drew closer and closer, it all became painfully familiar. Her heart raced and her eyes began to string. Maybe she couldn't handle it, after all...

A surge of guilt fell upon her shoulders, a guilt that was now weighing her down with each step. Lois Lane felt guilty. She felt guilty about having not visited, for having left her mother behind. Lois was disgusted at not only herself, but at her mind. It had been the thing to gave manipulated her into steering clear of the only thing left of the woman who had given her a life — her mind had scared out of so much as breathing her name. It was unforgivable, and she hated herself for it. She felt like an awful daughter; was there a daughter worse than she? She wasn't sure.

Lois hated herself for being so weak, but it was too late. All she could do was turn it around, and that's what she planned on doing.

   Maybe hitting her head had knocked some sense into her.

The tremor within her bones appeared and shaky breaths began to fall from her lips. They creating a synchronised rhythm with the rapid beat of her heart, the organ pounding into her chest so hard that she feared it may break her ribs, and if it hadn't been so scary she would have thought they'd formed an orchestra.

   Wasn't that a funny idea?

   Rubbings her wrists as she stared, the girl hovered in her step. It was within metres now; a short distance from where she stood, but she felt as though it were miles. It seemed so far away from her.

    "You can do this, Lo." She muttered, "Don't be so pathetic."

And with a swift, wind-felt, smack to the cheek, Lois walked on.

Her teeth tugged at her lower lip, the pink becoming bitten and bloody with each nerve that kicked in. It was a bad habit, a coping mechanism perhaps, and it had only occurred in times of stress. It happened more often than she would care to admit.

Before she knew it, Lois found herself stood directly in front of her chosen destination. It felt as though her lungs had been pulled from her chest completely; like she couldn't even breathe. Brows knotted together, complexion paling significantly, the girl allowed her eyes to run along the engraving upon the stone and she sighed. To this day, she still couldn't believe it was written there.

A LOVING DAUGHTER, WIFE AND MOTHER
EMILY MARIE LANE
1972 - 2005

There was so much that she could have said. So many events that the girl could have spoken about, all of which would have taken her hours and hours. Lois could have said so much — she could have told her mother how her father was dealing with the loss, his workaholic ways to provide for him and his daughter, to distract him from all that he had lost and instead focus on what he could gain. She could have told her how strong her father was, and how proud she would be that he had raised their daughter so well. He was the best father in the entire world, Lois was sure of it.

   She could have told the woman about the Stilinski's and how they'd been, the love and support they had given one another.

And Lois could have vented about the Supernatural; how one of her best friends was now a werewolf, one a hunter, another that seemed utterly insane, and all about their fights with alphas and conflicts with other hunters. Lois could have said it all.

But she didn't.

Instead of reciting a monologue, rambling about how much the past few years had resembled hell on earth, or breaking down into a mess there and then. Lois avoided doing any of the above.

  Instead, Lois smiled sadly.

    "I'm sorry I couldn't save you, mom."

And then the brunette left, not daring to look back once.

——

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