Lois's thoughts on Jon?
Jon was a monster.
But he hadn’t always been. Once, he had been her little boy—her sweet little boy, the one who used to cry when he accidentally stepped on an ant. The one who clung to her leg when thunderstorms rattled the farmhouse windows. The one who would giggle, bright and unburdened, as he raced through the fields of Smallville, his tiny hands outstretched like he could catch the sun itself.
Now, he came home every night happy, beaming, bloody recounting his sins like they were schoolyard adventures. "Mom, you should’ve seen it!"he’d chirp between bites of dinner, eyes alight with something that wasn’t quite Jon anymore. "Dami and I, we—" Clark would listen, nodding along, pride gleaming in his too-perfect smile. And Lois would sit there, silently choking on her food, choking on the memory of the child she’d lost.
She should’ve killed Clark when she had the chance. She should have believed Luther. She shoulder have ran the first time he looked at Jon with something other than indifference. But she hadn’t. She’d trusted him. She’d believed in him. And now her son—her son, the one who used to whisper "I love you, Mommy" into her shoulder when she tucked him in was gone.
In his place was this thing. This grinning, gore-splattered shadow wearing her baby’s face. It wasn’t Jon’s fault.
It was his.
Clark had taken her son. Stolen him, piece by piece, warped him into something sharp and cruel and left her with a stranger who laughed at screams and called her "Mom" like he still remembered what the word meant.
Lois didn’t hate Jon. She could never hate her son. She hated the monster that wore his skin. And she hated herself for not being able to save him.
