"What do you mean you didn't capture her?" My father, Valentine Morgenstern, is staring at me with an odd mixture of coldly and angrily, his dark eyes narrowing. I sigh, and repeat myself for the fifth time. "I mean that Clarissa, my dear sister, got away from me, father," I sneer. Most people are scared of him, but I, Jonathan Morgenstern, am not, and never will be. I could beat him in a fight easily, thanks to all of the training he has made me endure. Although father dearest seems to think I couldn't, and that he's the most powerful thing in the world. Boy, is he wrong. He steps forward 'menacingly' (okay, what would be menacingly if I was anybody else) and says sharply, "And why would that be?" He's not extremely close to me, but still too close for my liking. I sigh dramatically and smirk, "It seems that Clarissa doesn't see in you what you see in you, and would rather not have to see you again in her lifetime, and I can't say I blame her, but God forbid she has free will!" "Jonathan, I've had quite enough of your attitude." I roll my eyes, "Tragic." Valentine is really angry now, his jaw clenching and unclenching. I can feel my patience starting to grow thin, too, as he says, "I don't know where you learned this attitude and disrespect, or who you learned it from, but I will not allow it to continue." "I've learned from the best, for seventeen long years." I say with a mixture of lazily and angrily that only I could create. He blows out an angry breath and says, "I mean it, Jonathan. If it continues you will be punished." I laugh humorlessly, "Aww, Valentine, you're so cute when you threaten me." I smirk at the furious expression on his face. I turn on my heel and start walking away, extremely irritated and tired. "Where do you think you're going?" I ignore him, and I reach my room quickly and slam the door behind me.
Well, that was a disaster. I keep replaying kissing Clary over and over in my head, and I hate myself for it. I also hate Valentine for making what I am. At the risk of sounding cliche, I guess I hate the world. Even if Clary would've agreed to go with me, I couldn't have brought myself to bring her here, to the father she doesn't deserve. The father no one deserves, except for me. Then, I think of the woman who put me in this position. My mother who left me with Valentine. God, I think I hate her more than I hate him. I feel sick to my stomach, and I pull myself up out of my bed. I see myself in the mirror, and realize the black hair dye hasn't worn off yet. It makes me look paler, and more... Sophisticated. My eyes are a much deeper, yet slightly lighter color. More like charcoal than raven. It's not that I don't think my usual blond doesn't suit me better, but I just think it makes me look too much like my father. I jaw clenches at the mere thought of him, and it makes me sick. I don't know why I've started to dislike him so, but it's just a feeling that won't go away. Yes, the black hair shall stay.
Ten throwing knives, two decapitated dummies, and 100 push ups later, I'm not quite so angry and I'm twice as tired. I sigh after I put the throwing knives away, and replace the two dummies I decapitated as slowly as possible, dreading having to face him again. Perhaps I would get lucky. I decide to take a shower, and replace the hair day that has been half sweated out. Once I do, I head down to our kitchen. I have to eat sometime, and it's better to face your problems than to avoid them. I stroll in as calmly as I can muster and try to stay graceful and indifferent. I know he's going to bring up the events of today, and I don't particularly want to be a wanted criminal for murdering my own father, who is also a criminal. Yeah, life's just peachy.
I sit down at my usual place across from him, and avoid his scrutinizing gaze. "What happened to your hair?" He asks after a moment, like he actually cares about me or anyone else besides himself, which I know isn't true. He's just the opposite; he only cares about himself and what he wants, and anyone who gets in his way will regret it. "Hmm? Oh this? Well, I thought my hair would look better if it matched the color of my heart and soul, black. Or should I say our heart and soul?" I say with a surprising coldness that I didn't know I possessed. I know I shouldn't have said that, but my mouth tends to work before my brain does. He is deathly silent for about two minutes, until he says quietly. "Look at me, Jonathon." I bite back a stinging retort as he continues, "I know your upset, it must've been hard to see the sister you've never met, but I'm not the person you should be taking it out on." My eyes nearly pop out of my head, and I even surprise myself when I bust out laughing. "By the Angel, you really think you're something, don't you?" I start laughing again, but quickly compose myself. "What do you mean by that?" His voice is deathly calm. "And you wonder why no one likes you! You're the one who set that whole thing up, but you're too darn important to actually act it out, and now I bet your thinking you could've done better. Right?" He just stares daggers at me, so I continue on. "I'm taking that as a yes. Where was I? Oh right, giving you a piece of my mind, which doesn't count for much around here. You're such a great father that you'd rather sacrifice your own son than yourself! All I am is one of your experiments." "Johnathon that's not-" "Don't bother lying to me. I'm not stupid, no matter what you think. All you are to me is someone who made me, nothing more." Seeing the hurt look in his eyes, I scoff and narrow my eyes,"Did you honestly believe that a demon could love you? Or anyone else? I'd bet you just didn't care, and still don't, which is fine by me because I don't care either, and I never have." I stand up and stalk out of the room. At the last second, I turn around and say in the same cold, emotionless, voice. "Oh, and call me Sebastian or don't call me at all." Then, I stalk the rest of the way out of the room.