Clark Kent

I closed my eyes and waited for the car to hit me. I didn’t have to pull too much into the direction of the car because the bike took on a life of its own once I let the handles go. In less than a second, I was already completely in the wrong lane.

Smiling for the first time in a long time, I embraced the last moment I would feel the wind on my face. The last moment of my life.

My eyes popped open at the sound of tires screeching across the graveled road. But they weren’t my tires. The sight of the black car sliding across the road and stopping a few feet away from me dragged a hint of regret to the pit of my stomach.

When the car came to a complete stop, I turned my focus back to the road, but it was too late.

The road was curving and I tried to turn with it at the last minute. I panicked and all at once, I yanked the handle and pressed the grips. The bike leaned too far right and I began to slide across the road. Somehow my body separated from the bike and I rolled into the grass, right against a tree.

The world was silent for a while. Then I heard a muffled voice say something as I struggled to keep my eyes open.

“What? …What did you say?” I asked the guy standing over me. Flashes of short wavy black hair and big hands were all my eyes could see. Those same hands were touching my arms, head, and back.

“Are you okay?” His voice was a little clearer this time but my vision was still blurry.

“Yes. I think I’m okay.” I tried to sit up while forcing the words out of my mouth. “What happened?”

The guy’s hands paused from touching my body. Instead of answering me, he began spouting information. “Yes, we are on Lake Road at mile two. Send an ambulance and a tow truck to carry a motorcycle.”

Oh no! the motorcycle. I looked around and caught a blurry glimpse of the bike. It seemed to be in pieces against a large oak tree.

“Oh no!” I said aloud. “My dad is going to kill me.”

The last thing I heard him say before completely blacking out was “Your dad?”

I awoke to bright lights and the smell of chlorine. I moaned as I tried to shield my eyes from the stinging sensation from the lights above me.

It took a while for my senses to focus. My ears felt like they were underwater and my vision was a little blurry.

“Are you the girl’s brother?” I heard a man ask. I looked around to see where the voices were coming from and could see two men outside the room I was laying in. One had a white coat and I knew then that I was in the hospital.

The guy without a coat answered. “No. I was in the other vehicle.”

“Oh. There was another vehicle? Are you hurt? Do you need medical…”

“I’m fine. I just came with the girl and I’m waiting on the police.”

‘Did he just say the police?’ I thought to myself. ‘And was he talking about me?’

“Doctor.” I heard a woman say. “We need you in room three twenty. Mrs. Randall is asking…” The woman’s voice trailed off as she and the doctor walked away from the area near my door.

I looked around the room, it was plain. No flowers or get-well cards. Not that I expected any, but I wondered how long I had been out of it. I pulled the cover back to see my clothes. I was still wearing my shorts and tank top. But my boots had been removed and there were a few bandages on my legs and arms.

Seconds later the guy who was just speaking to the doctor entered my room. He walked over to a chair that sat against the far corner, but he didn’t sit down. I watched as he just stood there staring out the window for a few minutes.

‘Henry Cavill!’ I thought after pondering who he reminded me of. It was the actor Henry Cavill. He looked like a younger version. His strong jawline was dressed in a 5 o’clock shadow. It was strange how quickly I started imagining him without it. Just like the actor when he played Superman. All he needed was a red cape and he’d transform from Clark Kent to the flying alien.

I almost smiled at his similar messy hair. It was dark with short, big curls. Even with the 5 o’clock shadow adding to his age, that hair would probably keep him looking boyishly young forever.

I stopped analyzing his handsome face long enough to narrow in on his deep grey eyes. They were staring back at me. Whatever pleasure I gained from staring at him, quickly subsided in my gut.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

I nodded my head. “Are you okay? Were you hurt in the accident?” I found myself asking him the same questions as the doctor.

“I’m not the one who went barreling toward a tree at sixty miles per hour.”

He had a point. Before the bike began sliding, I noticed the car swerve a few times. But that was it. It came to a complete stop without hitting anything.

“You could have a neck injury or something like that.”

“And, what? You will somehow help me with that injury.” He spoke with so much sarcasm.

This guy was an asshole. “I was simply asking if you were okay.”

With his arms crossed over his chest, he asked, “Are you going to tell me how you end up with my bike?”