Hey guys! So, hear me out. I wanted to see if ya'll liked this new idea I had, and I really wanted to get it out of my system, so let me know if you like this and I'll keep adding more content!
Also, I know, I know. There's a ton of fanfics about Clary getting abused and stuff. There's also ones about her getting abused AND bullied.
Don't make assumptions about this fanfic, and give this one a chance. I promise it'll get better as you keep reading.
Sometimes, there are people who live good, happy lives. Then there are other, who have shit home lives.
Clary was one of those "shit home lives" people.
Clarissa Fray was abused. It started when she was 6. Her father, Valentine, beat her up, and raped her, claiming she drove her mom and brother away. Her mother, Jocelyn, left with her brother Jonathan 10 years ago. she didn't remember them anymore, but she hated them both for leaving her. They were the sole reason she was being treated like shit.
She was mercilessly bullied at school by Jace Lightwood and his posse. Her ex best friend, Simon, confessed his loved to her four years ago, and when she had rejected him kindly, he couldn't take it. So he joined Jace. She told Simon about her abusive father, and after she rejected him, he threw away her trust and told everyone her secret.
When Valentine found out that there were rumors about him, she received the worst beating ever.
That day was when she stopped giving her trust away. She made sure that the people who had her trust were worthy of it.
Her father never gave her food, hell, he couldn't afford it. She cleaned the house, cooked, washed the clothes, and did everything to make sure the house was clean.
She was independent, and she was selfless. She always stood up when others got bullied, no matter how much verbal abuse she would suffer afterwards.
Sometimes, things would never change. She learned to accept it. She believed her life was short, that she wouldn't live till her 18th birthday. That was her ticket out. Becoming an adult. She wanted to pull through so bad, but sometimes, she figured dying was the best option. But she never succumbed, because she knew suicide would make her a coward.
When Jocelyn and Jonathan left, Clary found a stash of money hidden within a cabinet. The amount totaled to $500. Whether it was left their purposely by her mother or not, she took it gratefully. And from then on, Clary had saved up money, slowly and painstakingly. She made sure it was kept in the safest place possible, a floorboard beneath her bed. Her bed was bolted to the floor, and she was the only person who could crawl under there.
Whether she knew it or not, everyone in her school, except the bullies, were comforted by her presence. She helped all of them in ways she would never understand. She talked a girl out of killing herself, she helped many come out as gay. Hell, one of the boys she helped come out was Alec Lightwood, Jace's adoptive brother, but even then Alec never stood up for her, and he never thanked her.
Teachers loved her as well. She once saved the art program by selling dozens of her artwork to curious buyers.
If someone had walked up to a random student, and asked them who they trusted, the majority would say Clary Fray.
It was sad, she never would know how many people would cry, how many people would blame themselves after the accident.
"C'mon, get up." willed Clary's conscience.
The night before, Valentine not only raped her, but beat her until she was unconscious. He was never gentle, and he always made sure she was in pain, and lots of it. She woke up in a pool of her own blood, and wordlessly dragged herself off to take a shower ignoring how painful it was to get up or do anything.
With a sigh, she went to her room, and locked the door, She went to her bathroom, and took off her tattered pjs. Clary turned the shower knob to her liking, and stood in the hot water, letting it ease her pain. This was the one of the few times she was genuinely at ease.
She stepped out the shower at looked at herself in the mirror, instantly disgusted. She was pale, and far, far to skinny. Her ribs were prominent, but she never had a choice. She wanted so badly to eat, but she had to save up. That and Valentine refused to feed her.
She winced at what she saw. Her entire body was covered in bruises, cuts, and burns. Her father was always very careful; he never hit her face in fear of being caught. He made sure to hit her above her elbows, but sometimes, in his drunken stupor, he would slip up. She saw the bruises on her forearms, and luckily they were light.
She looked at the side her stomach, and felt her eyes prick with tears. When Valentine had first started hurting her, she was only 7.
She reached into the medicine cabinet and grabbed some painkillers. That was the only way she could survive at school without doubling over in pain.
She put on a bra and panties, and walked out to decide what to wear. Her closet was limited, and she didn't exactly have the money to buy nice clothes.
She threw on her black skinny jeans, and a grey t-shirt. Last night was one of the nights where Valentine had not been careful. She threw on a grey hoodie, and slipped her feet into her faded converse. She went back into the bathroom to check if there were any bruises, and found there was one small bruise on her cheekbone. She hastily covered it up and on the way out the door, she grabbed her messenger bag, and went downstairs.
Valentine was passed out on the couch. She quickly pulled out his breakfast from the fridge, and placed it in the microwave. She always maade it the night before, because she knew she wouldn't have enough energy to make it in the morning. After she made sure the kitched was clean of empty beer cans, she left knowing she wouldn't be getting her usual morning beating.
Today was her first day of her junior year in high school. Just a little more waiting, and she could be free.
She hopped onto her bike, trying her best not to cry out in pain. When she was a freshman, she had discovered a secret route to Alicante High. Nobody used it, and she was glad.
With a deep breath, she willed herself to start pedaling.
Today was going to be a horrible day, as every day was.
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