Disclaimer! I do NOT own TMI, though I wish I did!
My first fanfic, so please give constructive criticism! I hope you enjoy. If I get enough people saying that you want me to continue this story, I will update it again! I also have to say an advanced 'I'm sorry' because I end it on a cliff hanger! And I hate those too! I wanted to start off by saying Clary was a strong person, but the events that you will soon learn about broke her. I am not trying to be insensitive to people, I just wanted the story to start off with what I put because it affects her later. I want you all to know that if you are on the edge, don't jump! Even if it is just me, I am here for you. I will listen to you. There are people who love you, and want to see you end up happy, and believe you will even if you don't think so now! Don't give up! Let's get started!
Clary
I never thought I would be here again. After last year's suicide attempt, I doubted that Luke would let me get back in the water. After we lost my mom, I was at an all-time low. I pushed away everyone. Including all of my friends and family. It was like I was floating in water. Everything was audible and visible, but I didn't care, I didn't try. I was in a deep depression. Usually people get help for that kind of thing. Help kinda just found me…
After I tried, and failed, to commit suicide I was put into a hospital. Don't go all 'this isn't anything different, she gets help here and gets all better' on me. Actually it was just the opposite. It showed me how low I was, and smothered me. It made me feel worse about myself. Though I knew that the only way to get out was to put on a smile and pretend like everything was magically better. I convinced them because about five weeks after my attempt, I was released. Luke had picked me up and immediately I could see what I had done to him. After mom died he also faded away, but when I looked at him then he looked sick. It looked like he hadn't slept or eaten when I was gone. I felt a twinge of guilt spread through my body, but I quickly pushed it down.
Two weeks after, I was hit with another bomb. My last and really only friend, Simon, had been hit by a car. While he was still alive, he was badly injured and the doctors said they were surprised he had made it this far. I walked in the room to go see him, and it was like a light switch flipped on. Here was poor Simon, barley able to move and not due to any fault of his own. While I was here, letting myself slip down this dark hole, and not choosing to fight it. I had been hospitalized, but because I had stopped listening to the voices that were important. I realize that I had a right to grief, and a right to be hurt, but I shouldn't have let myself slip as far down as I did. I use to be the strongest, most dependable person, so I couldn't lie to myself and say that I couldn't have fought back. I had just given up.
I walked over to Simon and placed my hand in his. He stirred. His eyes then fluttered open and his voice almost sounded demanding when he said, "Don't give up. Fight!"
I gasped. That was almost the exact words I had just thought. I knew he was always there, whether it be to give advice or to be a shoulder to cry on. He never demanded or pushed anyone into anything they weren't comfortable with. And the thought of
By the time I looked back at him, he was asleep again. I took a deep breath and walked out of the hospital. I knew what I had to do.
Ok, if this sucked, please tell me. I think it kinda does, and if you think it does too then I will take it down and rewrite it! Thanks for reviewing! See ya soon!
~K.