"Clary, Clary, please,' I could hear her gasp for air, 'whatever you do, do not come home. Okay, sweetheart? Don't come home," then a gunshot and the line went dead.
Two weeks later, two weeks after my mother's last words were said to me. Two weeks after I found her dead, on our wood floor now painted with her blood.
I had given up trying to rid myself of the memory; it was already ingrained into my mind, never to be forgotten.
It was two hours before our downstairs neighbor, Ms. Dorothea, decided to come see what was going on. By that point, my skin was stained red from clutching onto her chilling body for so long. The cops showed up within ten minutes after that, the coroner packed up her body and wheeled it away. All I could do was watch while the cops continued to question me.
They tried to be nice, to be discreet, but I saw the looks, worry, pity, some even seemed fearful, which was the most curious reaction out of all. Once I told them everything I knew, the attending social worker herded me to her car, and with a look of pity kept repeating "Everything will be alright."
No it won't.
Now, I'm on a bus, leaving my home, leaving New York for California. They said that Luke Graymark had guardian rights, it makes sense, he's my godfather. So that's where I am heading, sunny California to live with my godfather. I haven't seen him since he left New York five years ago after a nasty fight with my mother. She never told me what it was about, though I do have my suspicions, they've always seemed closer than just friends.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our destination. On behalf of Greyhound we would like to thank you for your business and be the first to welcome you to Los Angels," the intercom died out.
As people scrambled for their belongings, anxious to get off the stuffy bus, I stared out the window. I had spotted Luke's truck, the same old Ford he used to drive in New York; it's a wonder it even made the trip to California.
I studied him as I grabbed my meager belongings; his skin was darker, hair longer, though looking at his face it was noticeable that he had aged quite a bit. As the other last stragglers wandered off the bus I followed, dragging my duffle bags down the metal staircase into the hot California air.
Feeling Luke's eyes on me, I managed to give him a meager smile. I had been mad at him for so long after leaving us, and I had fully planned to make him feel my pain, my hatred, at him for leaving us; yet his face was the first familiar thing I had seen in two weeks and I would welcome familiarity with open arms at this point. I didn't even recognize myself in the mirror lately.
"Clary,' I hear him call my name, seconds later he had me in a warm hug. I couldn't help it, I clung to him in return, and he was the only one that would feel any resemblance of my pain at the moment, the only one who might possibly offer me comfort in this situation.
"Luke,' I choked on a sob.
"Shhh, it's alright, you can cry about this Clary, I got you."
At that I let the tears fall, how had my life come to this?
I woke up with a jolt, gasping, trying to breathe again. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the same thing; her body sprawled across our floor, coating the floor with a slippery red humor.
I felt a hand grasp my arm, "Clary?" It was Luke; of course it was Luke, which meant this house must be my new home.
I took a better look at it, it was small, quaint, definitely something Luke would own. As he helped me inside I couldn't help but notice the pictures adorning the walls, most of which featured my mom, Luke, and I. The warm, woodsy scent was overwhelming, but it was comforting, Luke had always smelled of the forest on a warm fall day.
He let me take in my surroundings before signaling for me to follow him. As we walked up a staircase he asked me the one question that I couldn't handle hearing again, "Are you okay?"
"Mhmm, just dandy," I winced, knowing he was un-deserving of my sarcasm, but I can't help it, it's the only way I keep myself together.
He chuckled, shaking his head, "At least you haven't changed; you've always been a bit of a smartass."
For the first time in two weeks I found myself cracking an actual smile; at least Luke understood.
When we reached the end of the hallway upstairs he stopped and opened the door on my left; I couldn't help the gasp that escaped upon seeing the inside.
There was a rich purple wall on the far wall; a full size bed in the corner with a huge plush white comforter on top, over by the window sat a full desk, and in the center of the room was a large fuzzy gray rug lying in the middle of the room. But the part that made tears prickle my eyes was the large easels and multiple canvases lining the wall mere feet from the bed.
"Wha-, how," was all I could manage.
Luke looked uncomfortable scratching the back of his head, "Well, uhm, you see, I was kinda hoping that you and your mom would come live with me. But she, well you know how she i- was, she was the most stubborn woman I'd ever met," in that moment I could tell how much my mother's death had weighed on his shoulders.
Before he could utter another word I threw my arms around his neck, "Thank you," I whispered.
When we detached we both had a few remaining tears tracking down our cheeks though we quickly wiped them away.
"So,' he started, clearing his throat, 'there's a lot we need to discuss I suppose." He set my bags down, "Do you want to go get some coffee and talk? We don't have to talk about her, just, well we need to plan what you want to do in terms of school and everything. I know it's sudden, but school is already a week in and I don't want you to fall behind. But if you aren't ready yet, well then we can hold off on that?"
I nodded, "As much as I don't want to, there's no point in delaying school. I guess I will enroll tomorrow, that is if I can?"
"Yeah, we'll go tomorrow and get you set up."
"Alright, sounds good. Let me change then we can go get coffee? I haven't had a good cup in over two weeks and caffeine sounds heavenly."
He chuckled and gave me a nod, "I'll meet you downstairs then."
An hour later I was sitting in a huge leather chair in a little café called Java Jones, holding a big coffee cup filled with sugary goodness. I took a sip and sighed, it's amazing how much a good cup of coffee can make a mood brighter.
Luke sat across from me, again chuckling.
"Is something funny?"
He raised a single eyebrow while I silently cursed him. "Hmm?"
"I asked if something was funny! You keep laughing at me," I huffed.
At this he belted out a laugh, "Not at you, with you."
At that I rolled my eyes, such an adult answer.
"It's just, you remind me of the little girl I used to know, but at the same time, you're so different. It's just funny, in a weird way…" he trailed off.
A short silence fell over us while we both enjoyed the coffee, though by his fidgeting I could tell there was something on his mind. Luckily, he didn't keep me waiting, "Clary, I know this is hard, but, can you tell me how it happened? The social worker, nor the police would explain much to me."
I could feel myself stiffen, and reminding myself that this is Luke, he was like a dad to me, he loved my mother whether he would ever admit it or not was a different matter; but the point is, he deserves to know.
"Well, yeah…I mean it was like most other days, though that morning we had gotten into an argument about whether or not I could go to this all ages club or not. When she said no, I got mad, told her that she never lets me live, and that she was going to have to let me go at some point. I wasn't a little girl anymore.' I paused trying to calm my ramped heartbeat, 'anyways, I snuck out to meet some friends there despite what she said. I hadn't been there for an hour when she called the first time; of course I ignored it, sending it to voicemail. The second time, I ignored it again. At first she didn't call back immediately, later I found out that she had called on of my friends, Maia, though Maia knew about our fight and ignored her too. When she called a third time, I picked up, figuring she was going to be relentless anyways. At first I didn't hear anything, then there was a scream and a man's voice. I remember hearing something like 'Did you think we wouldn't find you?' I was confused, and started shouting into the phone trying to hear my mom. When she finally came on she was gasping, she sounded positively frantic, she told me to not come home under any circumstances, then there was a gunshot and the line went dead,' I looked up, all the color had drained from Luke's face; but for some reason I couldn't stop talking, 'I ran then, I ran two and a half miles home only to find her in the living room surrounded by her blood, no pulse, no breathing, nothing. She was gone…" I trailed off as the horrifying graphic images passed through my mind.
When I chanced another look at Luke he was ashen, sitting ramrod straight, his muscles tense. But the most curious part was the look of dread and fury swimming in his deep eyes.
Instead of commenting I chose to look away in a desperate attempt to compose myself. I had told that story so many times, to so many cops and social workers, but telling Luke had stirred so many more emotions in me.
After taking a deep breath, I slowly opened my eyes, allowing reality to settle back in. However, my eyes happened to meet a pair of deep golden ones through the window. I could feel my breath catch in my throat and quickly turned away, hoping he couldn't spot the pain and hurt that I knew must be oh so apparent in them.
Despite the horrible coffee conversation, and awkwardly silent dinner that followed, I awoke the next day feeling better than I had in a while. When I glanced at my alarm clock it said 6:00, and I groaned as I threw the covers off.
It was too early for this shit, was all I could think.
Shuffling into the attached bathroom I shed my clothes and let the hot water coax the tension out of my muscles. I decided to wash my hair, despite the fact that it meant I would not have enough time to tame it before Luke and I had to leave for the school.
Ten minutes later I was dressed in my favorite pair of skinny jeans, though I decided to throw on my mom's favorite emerald blouse instead of opting for my normal tee. I chose to attempt to tame my hair, though fighting that monster was never easy; I easily conceded, settling on a side braid.
"Clary, we gotta go," Luke yelled from downstairs.
Giving myself a quick once over, I nodded to myself before yanking on my Doc Martens and grabbing my bag.
On the ride over a munched on a Pop-tart while noting that the school wasn't far, though it was a huge campus.
Great. Walking. Who doesn't love exercise?
Me, that's who.
Luke hopped out of the truck as I reluctantly followed, mentally kicking myself for not taking advantage of his offer to delay school.
It took all of thirty minutes with Mr. Starkweather to set a schedule, though I don't care for the looks of pity the man couldn't seem to stop giving, I did appreciate his understanding in my schedule and over all situation.
I glanced back down at my schedule;
Period Class Teacher
1 Government Mr. Aurealus
2 Calculus Ms. Simmons
3 American Literature Ms. Herondale
4 Chemistry Mr. Halen
- Lunch -
5 Study Hall -
6 Advanced Art Ms. Aldertree
Not bad overall, though I can say I'm glad that the last period is art, it'll help me unwind.
I spot a large clock on the wall above the rows of lockers, it's now 7:00, and I have fifteen minutes before classes start. Sighing, I decide to find my locker, which happens to be all the way on the opposite end of the hall. Go figure.
After a few seconds of struggling with the combination, the old metal door swings open and I stuff my books inside before going in search of my first class.
Thankfully, the class is relatively easy to find. I didn't even have to ask for directions. Though I think I may have taken a little longer than I had imagined, because when I stepped in the door I was greeted by eerie silence as the entire room halted their conversation to glare at me.
I felt my cheeks begin to burn and desperately sought the teacher, who was a godsend and came to my rescue.
"You must be Clarissa," he stated with a warm smile.
I managed a meek smile and nodded, though I corrected him, "I go by Clary."
Giving me a curt nod he smiled again, "Well it's good to have you here. Go ahead and take a seat, we are getting ready to discuss the constitution."
Gathering the courage to brave the judgmental glares, I looked for any open seats, and luckily I found one. It was near the back, by the window, as I was heading that way though my breath caught in my throat again as I made eye contact with a vaguely familiar set of molten eyes. Though this time, I didn't look away. Instead I held his eyes, before sitting in the seat directly behind him. I could hear Mr. Aurealus continue on with his lecture, though my full attention seemed to be on the boy in front of me as he turned around in his seat.
"Hi,' he smirked at me, 'I'm Jace Herondale."
Soooo, this idea kinda just came to me today, and I decided to run with it. The next chapter will be in Jace's POV. Please, review though; let me know what you think! (I'm also open to suggestions) - Spud