Gods Don't Bleed

Clark was not well acquainted with pain. When he was young, he took his invulnerability for granted and hardly ever thought about it, unless another child got hurt or sick. His harrowed struggles for breath as an infant were long forgotten. The agonizing period of uncontrollable, heightened senses was a wake-up call. When he 5, though, he had a rare encounter with the unpleasant sensation. He bit the inside of his cheek while eating dinner. There were only a few drops of blood, but of course, he wailed like a tooth had been ripped out. His parents soothed and coddled him. It was nighttime, so it didn't heal until the next morning.

By the time he was 13, he had gained an appreciation for pain. Sometimes, he pinched himself just to be reminded of what it felt like. He needed reassurance that he was mortal and not totally different from the humans surrounding him. When he accidentally bit himself, he pressed a finger against the torn flesh and withdrew it to examine the blood as his parents looked on, curious, but slightly disturbed.