A/N: Hey people! I know I know I still have Look into My Soul to update (man I haven't updated in literally forever!) but I had this great idea for TMI and I had to get this down on paper!
Disclaimer: I am not Cassandra Clare, so therefore I do not own any of these characters:(.
Prologue:
They came, again. Shrouded in cold, white mist, they stood, backs hunched, arms hanging limp at their sides, deprived of energy. Their veins spider-webbed across their bodies which were wrapped in translucent, pale skin. Their faces held no emotion, remaining forever impassive. She could not recognize them.
They talked, they always did; loud enough for her to distinguish noise but soft enough for the words to be undistinguishable. She wished she could hear what they were saying; but the whispers of their voices in her ear were all she could get.
The mist gathered thickly at their heads, shielding their faces from her once bright, green eyes. She watched, from a distance, as they locked their fingers and raised their arms, waving, beckoning almost. She longed to reach them, to be in their embrace once more; she did not know why.
She stood from her place, a set of forlorn swings, the rickety metal chains groaning at the change in weight. The swing swung slightly, hitting her lightly on the legs, reminding her.
She took a small step towards them; her Sketcher's scraped across the worn tar. A winding path led her to them, but each step was dragging a foot through quicksand. The gray tar path was crumbled in areas, cracked and perishing. Trees lining the path were gray and fallow, lacking. They hung low there, their limbs swaying with the winds, reaching down as if trying to capture her, to suck out her sanity and mortality.
A strong gust of wind blew, stronger than any other, scattering some fallen leaves and tendrils of her fiery hair obscured her face. She hurriedly pushed them away.
She kept her gaze on them, for they had turned their heads towards her. They had ceased talking but their fingers were still intertwined. She thought that they were warning her.
Suddenly, the pressure in the air changed; they sensed it for they snapped their heads from side to side, wary; she sensed it for she froze mid-step. Wind blew harder and harder, like knives piercing her skin. The wind twirled the mist, twisting and turning it, and she watched, she saw as they twisted and turned with the mist, deforming themselves beyond humanity.
She was not hallucinating about the wind; invisible knives slashed at and their bodies, blood rushing down, staining the path red. The knives left her alone, as if teasing her, as if saying, "Watch in pain, little girl. You cannot help them, yet you caused this."
She cried out. She did not like the wind and the knives; they made her feel awful, helpless; she could not help them. The blood flowed downhill, down the path, to gather at her feet, soaking her socks. She did not care. It hurt, badly. She clutched her stomach, trying to patch herself from the intense pain forming, nails digging into her skin. The pain was so much; she was afraid. Afraid that she could not handle it. But, she must. For them, she told herself.
The knives had finished with them; their pieces lay scattered, organs ripped apart, blood flowing freely. It had reached her calves by now; her pant legs were drenched.
It hurt too much. She dropped to her knees, tears mingling with the blood. Her hands clawed at her face, nails creating long, jagged, cuts, disfiguring her porcelain skin. She did not feel the pain; instead, it brought release from the guilt she had bottled up inside her.
She looked at her hands and saw more blood resting in the grooves, wet and slick. The pain did not help much anymore. She wanted to escape, to be gone. She knew that they would be disappointed in her; they thought that she could live happily. But, she could not. As she sat in the pool of blood steadily growing larger, she wondered if they would come back. They always did, why would they not this time? She laid in the blood now, drowning in it, and in her mind, she knew that they would not come back for her. She would leave with them, and nothing could rescue her now, for was she gone.
A/N: Wow! What did you guys think? Please, please REVIEW! It helps me grow as a writer and you guys can read better stories. :D