Clary felt the car accelerate underneath her, and she watched out the window as the shop fronts blurred together. Jocelyn made the green light—just—but only to find another bout of gridlocked around the corner.
"Christ!" her mother growled, slamming her hands against the steering wheel.
"It's not his fault." Clary muttered sardonically, watching as a pedestrian they'd been driving alongside for the past twenty minutes surpassed them.
"So you haven't forgotten how to talk then?" Jocelyn huffed sarcastically, drumming her fingers against the wheel. Her mother was wearing clothes that weren't splattered with paint—Clary hadn't known she'd actually owned any.
Clary didn't respond, turning away from her mother to stare out the window.
"Look, I understand that you're mad. It's ok, I respect that Clary. But you can't pretend it's not for your own well-being. It's only twelve weeks—it'll be over before you know it! I'm not proud of what I let happen to you, Clary. But we're going to get through this."
Jocelyn lifted her hand from the gearstick, placing it over Clary's, which lay on the seat. Without meeting her mother's eyes, or even turning to face the woman, Clary yanked her hand away.
Clary couldn't deny it—her mother's hurt gasp was hard to hear. But Clary took a deep breath, bottling the emotions that rose. Don't think about. That seemed to be Clary's particular mantra for the past year—and what a hellish year it had been. But Clary was putting it all behind her—or at least trying to. I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams, Clary recited to herself. She piled together her mop of an excuse for hair, fetching a hair tie from her pocket to tie it up. Or would they take that off her in the ward as well? After twenty minutes, they finally broke free of the city traffic, heading for the suburban outskirts of the city. Another twenty minutes passed in awkward silence, before Jocelyn turned the car down side road. They soon reached a grand driveway, closed off with a huge wrought iron gate.
"Another way of being kept in." Clary muttered, but her mother ignored her as she reached out the window to press the open button.
Clary knew her mother and Luke had set up a payment plan for Clary's twelve week stay—she wasn't sure on the details. But as they pulled up to the mansion, Clary gasped. It was like something out of Downtown Abbey—the thing even had turrets and gargoyles.
"You can't afford this." Clary stated, turning on her mother, "This is preposterous. I thought it was going be some kind of public hospital ward. Mom, you and Luke can't—"
"Clary. Don't even think about the money. All Luke and I want is for you to get better. Nothing else matters, ok?"
Clary took a deep breath, nodding curtly. The quicker she got 'better' the quicker she could get out of here.
They parked in the visitors bay, and Clary grabbed her backpack from the boot. The list of 'allowed' clothing had been strict—no shoes with laces, no drawstring sweatpants or hoodies. No shirts with particularly graphic logos. Much to Clary's disappointment she'd had to leave her chucks at home, having to buy several pairs of slip ons.
Her mother took the lead, striding for the impressive entrance. Clary trailed behind, scanning her surroundings warily. Though the neighbourhood they'd driven through was fairly residential, but this 'manor' seemed to be in an almost rural setting. The gardens were admittedly beautiful, but Clary doubted they'd be allowed out much. She didn't see any of the other 'residents' in them now.
"Come on Clary." Her mother called, already at the impressive set of carved double doors.
The two stepped through, and Clary surreptitiously admired the foyer. It was panelled with dark wood—not doubt Victorian gothic era. There were two staircases on either side of the room, also panelled with carved wood. But when Clary inspected a little closer, she saw the edges of the carving were thick with dust. Jocelyn approached the front desk, which was strangely modern and tacky in the grand room. The woman behind it smiled falsely,
"Good afternoon, how can I help?"
"Clary Fray for admission today?" her mother said in a low tone, as though speaking too loud would cause a crazy to run out and attack her.
"Of course. I'll just buzz down Alec, he's one of the nurses who will be showing you two around today. Take a seat."
Jocelyn sat down on a plushy armchair—the ones that always seemed to be in hospitals and clinics. Clary remained standing, brushing the dust off the edge of a wood panel.
"It's going to be fine Clary, relax." Her mother murmured in a soothing tone. "You did agree to come here."
Clary scoffed, "Right, only because it was this, or be sectioned."
"Clary, there's certain actions that they have to take when someone attempts—"
"We're not talking about it." Clary snapped.
Being angry at her mother was exhausting, but Clary wasn't sure how to stop. She felt as though she was carrying a bucket full of acid, and as she lugged it around, the contents slopped over the edge and burned those standing near.
Suddenly a man in light green scrubs was heading down the stairs, beaming at the two of them. His dark hair was messy, yet seemed to fall in a way the framed his face perfectly. His bright blue eyes were startling, and as he stretched out a hand to shake Jocelyn's, Clary noticed his nails were nearly bitten to the bone, despite the cheery smile.
"Hi Mrs. Fray, I'm Alec Lightwood, one of the nurses in the ward you'll be staying in."
"Nice to meet you Alec. Just call me Jocelyn, I'm not a 'mrs' anymore." Her mother tacked on the end.
"Of course." Alec nodded, before turning on Clary, "So you must be Clary?"
He held out his hand again, and Clary shook it politely. He had a surprisingly firm grip.
"Well, welcome to Fairchild Clinic! If you'd follow me, we'll give you and your mother a tour of our facilities, and the ward you'll be staying in, which is on the top floor."
They followed Alec up the stairs—he barely looked older than Clary.
"So there are other wards?" Jocelyn asked, and the man nodded.
"A few others. The one Clary's on is the lowest security, so she'll have a reasonable amount of freedom. But the clinic also contains an adult ward, suicide watch, rehabilitation homes, and we do house some criminally insane cases." As though Alec knew he shouldn't have said that, he quickly backpedalled, "But of course, that's maximum security. Nothing to worry about." He said quickly.
"What's the history behind this manor? It's simply magnificent." Jocelyn admired the wood panelling, and Clary knew her mother—a visual person and artist—was taken by the attention to detail in the classic features.
"It's gothic Victorian—which I'm sure you can tell. It was lived in by the Fairchilds, who were obviously old money, before their family went bankrupt. Then it was bought by a philanthropic doctor, Dr Montgomery, in the eighties. It's been used as a psychiatric hospital ever since. But don't think of this as a psych ward Clary. Think of it as a holiday for your head, and we'll do our best to make it feel that way." Alec gave her another smile, before they finally reached the top of the stairs.
"So the patients in this ward, they're all teens like Clary?" Jocelyn asked as the three headed down a hallway. The place was like a rabbit warren, and Clary felt horribly closed in.
"They're all under twenty one. We've actually had a decline in the amount of voluntarily admitted teens in the past year, so we've had to put our teens and young adults in the same ward for now."
Clary scoffed at the word 'voluntarily' but both adults ignored her.
"So how many are in the ward currently?" Jocelyn asked, and Clary tried to telepathically tell her mother to stop asking questions.
"Four currently. Sometimes this ward is used as a transition for some of our younger patients before they leave the clinic, and some stay here and only here for a few weeks, like Clary."
They finally reached a modern looking door, a small window of glass in it. It looked strange nestled amongst the period-style interior of the place. Alec produced a card from his scrub pocket, sticking it in the card slot of the top of the door handle—like at a hotel. There was a click, and he pushed it open.
"What's the policy on visitors?" Clary piped up, her mind going to Simon. He'd been another big advocator for her admittance to Fairchild, but he hadn't pretended he wouldn't miss her.
"They have to sign in, and then they're welcome to come and sit with you in the lounge, or recreation room."
"So no telephone conversations through the glass then?"
Alec laughed, like she'd made a great joke, "No nothing like that. But if you've had an incident, we may review visiting rights. But that's only in extreme cases, and I'm sure you'll be no trouble."
Right. Just behave yourself Clary, you'll be fine.
"It's recreation time, I'll take you throw to the rec room so you can meet everyone."
The hallway was wide, with stunningly high ceilings and more dark panelled walls. They rounded a corner, and Alec led them through arch way. They were in what Clary assumed was the lounge, and a television was haphazardly pinned on the wall above an unused fireplace. They went through another set of double doors, into a high-ceiling room flooded with light from the large bay windows on one wall. This room was beautiful, the walls painted a light blue. The floor was covered with a large and intricately weaved rug, and the room was filled with an arrangement of squashy armchairs and sofas.
"I've just had twins, pass me two of the little figures would you Iz?" a boy's voice pulled Clary's attention to the figures in the room. Two of them were playing the Game of Life over a coffee table.
"But you don't even have a wife." 'Iz' replied, and Clary's eyes drifted over the girl. She was stunning, and Clary felt a pang of envy as she studied the girl's high cheek bones and shiny dark hair—tied into a ponytail at the back of her head. Maybe Clary would be allowed to keep her hair tie after all.
"I reproduced asexually, meaning that none of my perfect genetics would be tainted by others." The boy responded in an arrogant voice, and Clary held back a scoff. He was faced away from her, and all she could see was the tangle of golden-blonde hair at the back of his head. He had a nice neck though.
Alec cleared his throat, and all eyes in the room were on her, including the boy's. Crap, Clary thought, he's really beautiful. His eyes looked almost golden, and the sharp angles of his only accentuated by the light casting shadows across his face. His limbs were lean, and Clary knew that he would be tall once standing. The boy raised an eyebrow as he appraised her right back, and Clary felt another pang of envy. She wished she could do that.
"Guys, this is Clary. She's going to be staying with us for a few weeks, so I hope you'll make her feel welcome. Clary, this is Isabelle." The beautiful girl waved, "Jace," the beautiful boy nodded, "and Magnus over there."
Clary's eyes were drawn to a figure she hadn't noticed yet. He was curled up in an armchair, in what was almost a cat-like fashion. He lowered his book, and Clary studied his tan skin and eastern features, which he'd coated in body glitter. He had stunning green/yellow eyes, which he studied Clary with briefly before turning back to his book.
"What do you think she'd be in a straight-jacket, Alec? Small or extra-small?" Jace commented sarcastically, and Alec froze beside her.
"Funny, Jace." He responded, giving the boy a forced smile. Even though Jace had directed the comment at Alec, his eyes never left Clary.
"That'd be no use," Clary replied, just as sarcastically, "I can chew my way out of most restraints."
Jace's eyes lit up with amusement, giving Clary a nod, as to say 'touché'. A silence fell, and Alec turned to Clary's mother, "Just to reassure you, we don't use physical restraints on this ward. Jace has an odd sense of humour."
"Don't worry, I'm used to it with Clary." Her mother responded with an eye roll.
"We've got another patient—Maia, but she doesn't seem to be here. Should we continue on with the tour?" Alec prompted, and they turned away from the rec room. Clary could feel Jace's eyes on her the whole way to the door.