Simon's POV.
I do not own Mortal Instruments (as I'm sure you know.) Wish I did, oh well.
Enjoy!
Clary wasn't my girlfriend anymore. If she was going to insist on mooning after her brother, then I would insist on not being there to play lover when he wasn't around. I saw the look in his eyes, the way he lusted after her, after my Clary. And she returned it. Kissing him, it wasn't sick to her, not like it should be. She wanted it. I couldn't stand it anymore.
And to top it all off; I was turning into a vampire.
I didn't remember much about what had happened that night at the hotel. It was mostly a blur to me. I remembered feeling small, dizzy. I remembered Clary gently holding me against her chest, scared for me, mad at Isabelle for letting me turn into what I was.
The hotel was a creep-fest. A vampire had taken me there, and I had bit him savagely every chance I got. He kept saying something to me that I couldn't understand. Then there was chaos.
Everyone swooped down and looked at three figures. Raphael, the head vampire at the time, being held with a knife to his back by Jace. Clary stood there in shock and fear, boldly telling everyone that she wanted to trade Raphael for a rat. No, not a rat, for me.
They saved me that night. I got beat up pretty bad, but I would always remember how Jace and Clary saved my life. I still remembered, even now, as I marched back into the place that I almost died. I was still grateful.
The hotel called to me. No, not the hotel, the vampires inside it, the life inside it. It wanted me. I was turning into one of them. They had to stop it. If I was ever going to have Clary, ever have a chance at her, I couldn't be a vampire. I couldn't die like that.
I went inside and was immediately taken over by vampires. I asked them to let me go: "Tell me how I can reverse it!" I ordered. "Tell me how to stay human!"
They didn't listen. They started biting me, feeding off me. It was oddly relaxing. I was comforted, and the last thing I saw was Clary's face.
Then I woke up to blackness. I thought I had died. I was so hungry, no, thirsty! I needed blood, and I smelled it.
I punched my way out of the grave, vaguely I noticed that I was in a cemetery. The first thing I saw was Clary's face.
She was beautiful and concerned and I wanted her now more than ever before. But this time was different; I wanted her blood. And I would have it. I could feel the awesome power trilling through my limbs, the power of the undead.
I jumped at her and she shrieked my name. I had imagined her screaming my name before, but in my fantasies, it had been in pleasure, not revulsion. Either way, that didn't matter to me now. It was Clary, my Clary, but I needed her blood.
I was savagely yanked away by someone stronger than me. He flung me on the ground and lurched at me. It was Raphael. He gave me blood, small packets of the stuff, I ripped into it, letting the life force drip down my mouth. My new fangs slid from their sheaths. Raphael softly cooed to me as I tore into the next package, and the next.
I heard Clary sob in the background, but she wasn't my girlfriend anymore. I couldn't live a day without Clary being mine. So now I was dead; I was undead. And I was doomed to not live the rest of eternity without her.
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