Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments series. All rights belong to Cassandra Clare.
Choice
"Stop it, Isabelle, just stop," His voice was deep and rough as he spit the words at her with more venom than she had heard from him in years.
"Why, Jace? Why should I stop? It's true, you know it's true, all of it! Why are you trying to hide from this? Why are you trying to hide from the fact that those feelings were there? That they're still here? What exactly do you think you're accomplishing? Huh?" She had steadily grown louder, her voice becoming wilder with emotion with each syllable that sprang forth from her lips.
"You knew it would never work. We were never meant to be. I thought you knew what you were getting in to," Jace's voice was harsh, cold. It scared her.
"Wh-what do you mean?" She could feel the tears building up behind her eyelids, ready to fall.
"It was all a lie? It wasn't real? Is that what you're saying, Jace? Is that what you're saying? Every single kiss, every touch, was a lie?"
She felt broken, hollow, like everything she believed in had been scooped out from under her. She had been cheated, mercilessly played by someone she thought she could trust, someone whom she had believed in. She felt her lower lip tremble, but she refused to give in to the hysterical tears that she so badly wanted to set free.
No.
No. Isabelle was angry. The sadness was like an open wound, and the anger served as a thin piece of fabric that she could use to staunch the flow of blood seeping out of her damaged body. It was truly all that she had left.
"You USED me! You mean to tell me that all of those moments we shared meant nothing to you? Really!? You used me like some cheap whore, Jace! I thought you cared about me? I thought you—no. You never loved me. I see that now,"
Isabelle saw how his eyes widened, his stony expression seemed to give way just a bit, though his hands were still clenched in to tight fists, the skin of his knuckles white with pressure. She had been right. Everything fell in to place. She had had her suspicions, oh yes, but she had dismissed them. After all, Isabelle was more beautiful, stronger, smarter; she was a thousand times better, yet she still could not have the one thing she truly wanted.
"It's her. It was always her," Isabelle's voice became low and tremulous; a far cry from the strong, unwavering siren that she had just projected forth.
"Izzy, please, don't be this way, you know that I never meant to hurt you.... I love you, just…" His voice was apologetic. Eyes wide, hands lifted in surrender.
It wasn't enough though. She didn't deny that he must feel some regret, some pain over making her feel this way, but it wasn't nearly enough. It was a pittance compared to the amount of pain that he would feel over hurting her. Isabelle just didn't matter to him. It was as simple as that. She would always be second place, always be in the background, never truly taking her place beside the one she loved. This couldn't happen, she wouldn't let it. She deserved to be loved! She needed to be loved by Jace; she had earned it! Where was the justice?
Why did he choose her? She didn't deserve him! All her life, Isabelle had striven to be the best, and in this case, she was confident that she was, so why wasn't it enough? What was she supposed to do now that being the best didn't matter anymore? Is she really that unlovable?
Isabelle straightened, and flicked her long straight hair over her shoulder. She strode up to Jace, his tall, lean body towering over hers. She would show him.
"Wow, Jace, just wow. I really never expected that you would go for someone like her. Red hair and four million freckles? Completely attractive… not. Not to mention the fact that she looks about six years old! In to paedophilia are we now?" She deliberately made her voice sneering, mocking. She was strong, and damn it if he would get the better of her!
She could see his face growing paler and paler, a sure sign of his anger, but she didn't care. Isabelle was taking all of her hurt and sadness and transforming it in to anger; hurling it at his iron defences. She wanted to, needed to break him, make his show some sign of weakness. She was desperate.
"For God's sake Jace, she isn't even a real Shadow Hunter. She's a plain little mundie girl. She's below us, below me. Why is it again that you're going for her? If you're going to be an obnoxious jerk, at least go for someone attractive –" Isabelle cut off abruptly as she felt two large hands grasp her upper arms and squeeze tightly.
She felt herself pressed against his hard body, his face inches from hers. To an outsider it may have looked like a lovers' embrace, yet Isabelle could clearly feel the burning anger that consumed him.
"She is beautiful, kind, and intelligent. The assumptions you made only further prove that she is everything you aren't. Nothing you can say will make me change my mind. I love you like a sister, but that love just can't compare. I've made my choice Isabelle, accept it."
All of Isabelle's anger dissipated in that moment. Staring in to those golden eyes, she saw the raw emotion that lay pooled in their depths. She felt weak; her whole argument, her impenetrable stonewall, crumbled and dissipated in to thin air. It was as if it had never been there. She had lost. For the first time in her life, Isabelle Lightwood had fought and lost. It was over. With one last lingering look, she took in everything about his face, each plane, every curve and dip. She couldn't forget, she wouldn't.
As the first tears began to trickle down her cheeks, she stepped back, forcibly yanking herself out of his angry embrace. She rubbed her arms where she could still feel the heat of his hands seeping in to her skin. She would have bruises there by tomorrow.
"Jace," Isabelle's voice cracked on the sob that was working it's way up her throat.
"It was never your choice to make,"
FIN