A/N: I don't own the Mortal Instrument or the lovely craters in it. The is Cassandra Clare.
I hope you like it :/ I'm putting the last part of my heart and soul in to this. So tell me where I've gone wrong and what I can fix. :) please in joy 3

"There isn't all was a light or a way out, sometimes you sink in to darkness, where there is no hope, no freedom, no love just pure horrible pain. You know you're stuck there, in darkness with your demons, no one can help, and no one can fight them with you. You're alone, alone with your thoughts, your pain and feeling like that maybe you should just jump, end it all."

I sat quietly on my bedroom floor, notepad lying in front of me a penicil placed tight between my teeth and my guitar lightly swinging of my shoulder. The cored connected to the guitar was placed around my right shoulder, my bright red hair placed up in a messy bun keeping it out of my way as I played around with words and cords trying to finish this song. I had the first few lines down, but I was stuck on the rest. Writing songs, playing guitar, drawing they've always been my only escape so much has happened in the last year, so complicated. If I could go back I would I hate it, I hate myself and I hate this darkness. I sighed thinking about it brought tears to the rimes of my eyes. I closed removed the penicil from my mouth, started to strum and sing.

Tell me what to do about you
I already know what I can see in your eyes
When you're telling the truth
'Cause it's been a long time coming
So where you running to?
Tell me what to do about you

I dropped my guitar in frustration and got up, why can't I figure out the next line! I yelled to myself. I walked out of my room slamming my door behind me running down the stairs and out the front door slamming that to with a big bang. Left and right, up and down either way I got I can't escape, I slapped myself trying to hold it together, I won't let my self be pulled down today of all days not today. I started to run towards the park me and my brother Jon use to go all the time. He would take my hand and walk me to the park when I was 6 and he was 7, push me on the swing, go down the slide with me and put his hand over my mouth when I would scream because I was a 6 year old girl going down a fast slid. After the park he use to take me to the library where he would read books and I would draw, bright colourful pitches I hoped he would be proud of, every time he was proud and hung the up in his room . When he turned 17 they were still hanging up.

*flashback*

Luke was packing up dad's office told me I should pack mum and Jon's stuff myself, like he thought it would be a way of letting them go or understanding what happened better. I don't know, but with a tear rolling slowly down my check I made my way to Jon's room. I hadn't been in here since that night so when I opened the door and was hit with the familiar scent of my brother, a person who was all was there for my tucked me in, held my hair when I was sick and held me when I cried my heart out, he even stood up for me against dad and the bad guys. I wasn't ready for it and the tears started to freely fall as I walked in to his room and looked around seeing the photo frames lining his desk and window shelf, the photos and paintings I had created for him, his football bag and gear thrown in the corner. I swiped at my eyes and took the charm around my neck in my small hands and held it close, I wanted to feel him close again, to have him hug me just one more time.

*end of flashback*