So this is a new story so i would LOVE if you guys reviewed, letting me know what you guys think. :)
In this story, Jocelyn worked up the nerve to save her son from Valentine, but to this day she still cringes and flinches around him. She knows the truth. Jonathan has always been treated differently than his sister, Clary, and once she starts running off with a mysterious boy named Jace, Jonathan starts asking questions. Will he find out what his mother has been hiding from him all this time, what he is, and what he was created to be?
Prologue:
Luke's Lake House: 1996
Jonathan never felt like he belonged. It always seemed like there were secrets his mother was keeping from him. That is why he did this. In secret. Plus, he furtively loved the chaos it brought to the house once his mother found out.
Almost every board in this old lake house squeaked, but experience had taught Jonathan where to zig and where to zag in order to sneak around soundlessly. Of course, it had always been a sort of talent that Jonathan had.
The moon was a silvery crescent in the sky. He looked up at it. It was familiar. Jonathan always thought his silvery blonde hair was like the moon and his dark eye were like the night sky.
Even thought the moon lit up the sky, the clouds were doing a good job at keeping the light from reaching the ground. Good, Jonathan thought. It was easier sneaking around in the dark anyway and he had always liked the dark.
Even though he was young, Jonathan was strong. He jogged out to the woods, hopped over logs and barely broke a sweat. He liked that he rarely got tired; it made him think of all of the things he could possibly do.
Had put a small knife—that he had stolen from the kitchen—in his belt loop. He pulled it out and started slicing leaves and twigs as he lunged and parried. This was all fun, but it was not what he came out here for.
Branches snapped under the animal's feet and Jonathan's senses heightened, much like an animal himself. Instead of chasing the sound, he stood completely still. He could hear the wind swaying the trees overhead.
The animal drew closer. It was a small deer; its head was down as it fed from some shrubbery. Even though the animal may not know any better, Jonathan held the knife behind his back, out of view. He called it closer with soft clicking noises, his hand held out as if to feed it.
The deer's ears flicked at Jonathan, curious at the creature in front of it. Its shiny nostrils flared as it hesitantly stepped forward.
Jonathan made eye contact with the creature and hoped he was persuading it to come closer.
Soon enough, the deer's soft lips tickled Jonathan's pale palm, searching for food.
Jonathan had to work fast now. No room for error.
His hand moved quickly, flipping the knife so that the blade would plunge into the soft curve of the deer's neck. It didn't take a long time for the deer to die. It bled fast. Jonathan would have like it if the death took longer. He like watching it struggle for breaths. What he liked most was how human it looked when it died, how it seemed to stare into Jonathan's eyes as its life vanished. A smile crept onto Jonathan's face, which was something that didn't happen often.
The blood that was on Jonathan's hands was dark, warm and sticky. He rubbed his fingers together as he felt the texture of it. Even as he walked back to the house he played with the blood as it grew stickier.
Before entering the house Jonathan cleaned off in the lake. Oddly, this lake always reminded him of a mirror, always reflecting the sky. But instead of reflecting the clouds in the sky, a scarlet cloud surrounded his hands as he rinsed off the murder from his hands. He washed the knife and finished up, walking back to the lake house.
Jonathan followed the same trail every time he came out here. Everything has a pattern, he thought, and when it's disrupted, "Chaos," he said aloud.
Jonathan opened the creaky screen door, but was stopped by a hard body. It plucked the knife from his hand. Luke. Luke was the owner of this house. Luke was not Jonathan's father, but he was around them practically all of the time. Jonathan didn't have many feelings, but he . . . tolerated, Luke. He didn't run away from Jonathan whenever something bad happened like all of the other people in his life—his teachers, his classmates, and sometimes even his mother. Luke was the only thing that Jonathan had for a father, and there was a part of Luke, however small, that was like Jonathan.
"What were you up to, young man?" Luke asked, crossing his arms. Jonathan hated when he was talked down on, like he was a child. You are a child, a small voice whispered.
"I was in the woods."
"Doing what?" Luke asked, inspecting the blade. There was a reflection of it on Luke's round glasses, so Jonathan knew that Luke found blood. He rubbed his thumb over a spot Jonathan had missed while cleaning it. "Go back to bed, Jonathan." Luke's voice didn't sound mad. He rarely seemed mad.
His mother would be mad though, but Jonathan never understood why. His mother always seemed mad or frustrated or scared around Jonathan.
Grudgingly, Jonathan made his way up the creaky steps and into the bedroom that he was temporarily sharing with his sister. Even though his late night adventure was invigorating, Jonathan still felt a wave of sleep slip heavily over him. He collapsed onto his bed. The last thing Jonathan saw before he fell asleep was the fiery red of his sister's hair.
please review :)