Clark bolted up. For a second, he didn't recognize where he was and then it sank in. Back in the room, just like last time. Swinging his lanky legs over the side, he ran his hands through his hair, rubbing at his eyes. They felt fine now. But he thought back to what happened on the bus, the nurse and he felt a weird lump in his throat, a pit settling in his stomach. His friends and family - well, those that knew what he really was - would probably say it was just self-defense, but Clark was sure that he could've found a better way to stop the nurse in her tracks rather than lighting her on fire. He hadn't meant to.

But that wasn't good enough. Saying "I didn't mean to" was what you said when you accidentally broke your parent's door off its hinges. Not when you made someone burst into flames just by looking at her wrong.

Technically he hadn't killed her directly. TK had. But the way Clark saw it, he was just as responsible as TK was and while TK wasn't too bothered about it, he was.

He tried to distract himself thinking about the intercom announcement. Visitors? They hadn't said who these visitors were, but this could be a good thing. He was sure that no one in Smallville knew where he was, but maybe there was a slim chance he was wrong. Or maybe one of the people visiting could help or pass on word to the outside. The teenager paced slowly about the Sun Room, fretting. When would they find out who got visitors? He was sure he wouldn't get one, but anything to keep from thinking about that nurse, the way she'd burned.