This is an original story I wrote I hope you like it
Conor = Jace
Violetta = Clary
Jake = Simon
I don't own the mortal instruments but this story is mine and is an original story that I wrote, not based on the mortal instruments
Chapter 1
Monsters. Creatures of the night. Do you remember those times at night where you'd hear that ominous rustle, or thump, right before you drift away into sleep? Do you remember your childish imagination taking over, envisioning demons and fanged beasts all baying for your blood? Do you remember as you grew up, those thought became almost laughable? Why would you laugh? Listen to the story of a freak, someone who will never leave your memories, somebody a little more than just 'different'. The story of my life. The tale of a little monster.
First I'll tell you a bit about me. My name, well I don't [seem to have one. I never have and I may never will. I call myself Violetta but that's because people need to call me something and any nicknames always pass on to the 'the perfs' and then they no doubt turn it against me.
Let me get on to the real story, my extravagant life. The overstatement of the year. My life, like many others of the 21st century, is plagued by people who think they are better, whether it is physically, mentally or socially. Definitely not personality-wise
The truth is that everybody in life has someone who is above them. Unfortunately I am one who has many people above them and not so many below, but I do have an important job. If there were no people on the bottom of the hierarchy then there simply would be no hierarchy. enough of my angst. Let's get on with my story.
Today I was hoping to be just a normal day but to no avail because today is the day I change everything…
As a walked down the street to school, I saw all the hung over teenagers practically crawling into school. `That's what happens when you go out partying the day before school starts,` I thought to myself , [only to myself] like they'd listen` that voice that was always plaguing me said.
Walking in to school I spotted `them`
They were `the monster haters`. They nicknamed me little monster and it stuck like a fangirl to a book.
As I walked down the hall towards my locker I felt their eyes boring holes in the back of my neck. Someone has definitely trapped my locker, I thought as I was entering in my locker code. I saw the dents where this someone had broken in. Getting ready to duck I opened the locker. Almost immediately gunge flew out, hitting the empty space on the opposite my locker, where had been conveniently emptied of students.
"Nice duck little monster!" Conor shouted ask he and his gang of monster haters advanced.
"Yeah like you could duck better than me Conor," I said trying not to add swears into this conversation"
"Says the freak!"
"Screw off!" I ran off into the toilets.
Freak. Monster. Those same words every day. I moved away the fringe from my forehead and looked into the mirror.
I took off my mask. The only thing I could use to cover that ugly scar.
The scar ran across my whole face, from tip of my eyebrow, right down across the bridge of my nose and ending just below my tear-duct. Contacts, icy- blue colour with a navy ring disguised my violet eyes and a shabby brown wig that looked surprisingly natural hid my blonde hair that had a violet, almost glowing tint
I think there was one, only one. One who considered that I'm not a freak. I think he was called Jake. Yes, Jake Michelle was his name. He once said that he loved my eyes, that they were beautiful. He didn't even know that my hair wasn't the colour of those caramel candies that I once caught him snacking.
I wonder what he would say if he saw me as I am.
But most importantly he, and no one else for that matter, had a clue that I was truly different. I could see things. I once imagined a man falling to his deaths one tranquil afternoon. His death was all over the papers that evening.
Deaths. So many. Premonitions of things to come. Flashbacks of things that happened. Over and over again, repeating in my memory until the next vision. I never could save them. Why would I? How could I? They just happened.
My father was the same. Not as bad as me, but as a young girl, I could often remember seeing him come back from work, sit at the table and stare off into the distance. "Why?" you could hear him whisper at times. Sometimes, at night, you could hear him cry himself to sleep. It broke him. He couldn't take it anymore. My last memory of him is him comforting me when I had another nightmare. Someone had slit his own wrists. He told me everything. He told me never to tell another soul. As he said himself:
"People would treat you like a guinea-pig. Lock you up in a cage, try to unlock your secrets but প্রেয়সী শিশু 'Prēẏasī śiśu' there is no secret, you are simply magic'
He committed suicide three weeks later. My mother started drinking, and life went downhill from there...
Walking out of my class room at 3:30 was not the easy task it may have seemed to be. Students of all ages finally free to talk, chattered on like the never had seen another human in their life.
Once I'd finally escaped from the manic throngs of the school ground, I started to walk home. Again this was not an easy task, after crossing three main roads and four bus stops ignoring everybody there I finally got to my rather humble abode.
It was a small mid-terraced house that had dirty windowsills and crooked roof tiles with what used to be a gleaming red door but was now just a pile of paint chips and dirty wood.
Sliding my key into the lock and turning it - with great difficultly I might add- I walked into my house and to my dismay I heard my mother slur, 'finallwy w'at took ya so long?!'
`I'm leaving tonight so why should you care?' I muttered under my breath
'Get away from me filthy child' she yelled as she threw a beer bottle that missed my head by about three meters.
Jogging up the stairs to my room I locked my door and started getting ready:
I wore a black dress that I knew would stand out against all the florescent colours the other pupils would me wearing and I switched my mask from the cat on to a black lace mask that looked completely different.
I also removed my contacts and my wig which I then threw out.
'This is it' I breathed.
I got my rucksack, shoved in some of my dad's old clothes and everything else that was necessary for survival and jumped out the window…
Please let me know if you want another chapter and ill hopefully keep you all posted :)
yours truly,
Fantizylover