Hi. So this is my first story on here. My friend told me I should join this site so other people can read my stuff. So here I am. If you like it, please leave a comment. I'll write more ASAP.

I adjusted the strap on my shoulder, staring awkwardly at the floor as my classmates jostled me to catch a glimpse of their grades. Some of them uttered curses before storming away angrily, others contained their excitement in wide smiles. I waited until the crowd dissipated before finally looking at the list. I located my student number and looked over at the corresponding grade. The big, fat A+ staring me in the face did not bring curses or a smile to my lips. I simply blinked at it and turned and walked away.

The halls were rampant with students on their between-classes breaks. I particularly liked to avoid the ones hooting and hollering at each other, chucking bits of paper like dodge balls, and making complete asses of themselves. The quiet ones that were busy burying their noses in their textbooks, I didn't mind so much. Sometimes it was nice to sit amongst them. Until they got up and carried on with their lives or met up with their friends. Then I was just reminded of how lonely I really was. Sometimes it was just better to sit alone. I enjoyed my own company. I never disappointed myself.

I checked my phone as I hurried out of the hall and past the library. The message said he was waiting outside, but I found myself chewing on the inside of my cheek, expecting him not to be there. It wouldn't be the first time he'd ditched out on me. I loved my brother, but sometimes I wanted to throw my hundred-dollar textbook at his face.

When I stepped out through the university's main entrance, it surprised me to see him standing there. He was leaning against the staircase railing, a cigarette bobbing between his lips. He watched a couple of girls walk by before looking up and noticing me staring at him. He grinned the infamous grin that drove women wild and approached.

He clapped me on the back. "What's up, Lexy-boy?"

I adjusted my backpack again. "Hey, Jace."

"So? How'd you do on this exam you've been freaking out about?"

"I did all right."

Jace cocked an eyebrow. He pinched his cigarette between his fingers and let out a puff of smoke. "Alec."

"A-plus."

Jace punched my shoulder, a little too roughly. "Shit, Alec! That's amazing. You're a fucking genius. Give yourself some credit."

"That exam wasn't very significant," I said quietly. "The next one is weighted more heavily."

Jace tilted his head back. "Jesus Christ, Alec. Celebrate for today! Don't freak out for tomorrow. All this stress is going to give you an aneurism."

"Heart attack, more likely."

Jace's lip twitched and he flicked his cigarette to the ground, smothering it with his shoe. "Smart ass."

"You up for lunch?" I asked hopefully.

There is was. The all-too familiar flash of guilt in my brother's golden eyes. This redundant response never failed to make an appearance. I should have expected it, but every time I saw the corners of my brother's eyes crinkle with a shameful smile my heart sank. I readjusted my bag again to hide the drooping of my shoulders.

"I made plans to hang today, Alec, but something came up."

"Okay." I nodded, pretending I hadn't heard the same story a million times before.

Jace sighed and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it to me. "Celebratory beer on me, okay? Have a little fun tonight."

I stared at the money, baffled by the new card Jace was playing. "You don't have to—"

Jace shoved the crisp bill into my hand. "You deserve it, brainiac."

"Thanks."

Jace ruffled my hair and muttered a goodbye. I stood watching him as he hurried down the stairs and approached the passenger side of a waiting car. He got in without so much as a backward glance and the car sped away, the roar of its engine ringing in my ears.

There was nothing left to do but carry on with the rest of my day as though the disappointment wasn't crippling. I ate lunch alone. As always. I walked to class early. As always. I didn't have a single conversation with any of my classmates. As always. I wrote down all the instructions for my homework. As always. I left class alone. As always.

On the way home I switched it up. Jace had given me money for a celebration, after all. But instead of buying a six pack, I went in to a convenience store and bought a soda and a chocolate bar. The tang of beer had never appealed to me, and there was no time for a hangover in my crammed schedule of studying.

Back at the apartment, I turned on the TV and warmed up a plate of leftover spaghetti for dinner. While I waited for the microwave, I checked my online bank account and found that all my bills had been paid. Again. I rolled my eyes. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate my parents taking care of my debts for me. But I'd gone to school to get away from them, to get away from their pressuring me. The only way to get my parents to agree to let me move out and live alone was to let them buy me an apartment. They also paid for my expenses so I wouldn't have to work and risk my grades slipping. And here I thought I was escaping parental pressure.

The night went on uneventfully. I went about my usual business. I ate dinner, did my homework, took a break from homework to highlight important facts in my notes, studied, brushed my teeth, climbed into bed, and wallowed in self-loathing before falling asleep.

The next morning I woke up with that feeling. That feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something was off about today, but I had no idea where the roots of the troubling thought were growing. I wracked my brain for anything I might have missed: a pop quiz, an assignment that was due today, an important doctor's appointment. But there was nothing special planned in my mental schedule. Of course, I carried on as usual.

The bus ride was smelly. As usual. I sat awkwardly in my seat, shrugging in on myself to avoid unnecessary contact with strangers. The hallways in the university were busy. As usual. I counted the number of students that passed me with Starbucks drinks in their hands and, as usual, nearly reached one hundred before getting to my class.

There was a pop quiz in class (which I aced), but that feeling still did not go away. A voice was nagging at me in the back of my mind, but the words were indecipherable. I continued on taking a ridiculous amount of notes as the professor lectured.

When class ended, the prof called me to the front of the room before I could sneak out. I approached his desk, my palms sweaty and my pulse leaping in my throat. Val Morgenstern looked like the kind of man who would break somebody's nose just for looking at him wrong. But it wasn't just his appearance that scared me. What scared me was the thought that the only reason he'd ask to speak with me privately was to discuss an assignment I'd misinterpreted and failed miserably on.

"Lightwood." Morgenstern glared at me through narrowed eyes. "I read your essay last night."

I shifted from foot to foot. "Okay."

"I want you to fill this out." He handed me a small stapled booklet.

I blinked and glanced down at the cover page. "A grant application?"

Morgenstern's monotonous growl made it hard for him to sound excited. "Your essay blew everyone else's out of the water. You're a sharp young man, Alec. I'm sure you can write an essay that will snag this grant."

I tried to hand the papers back to him. "Thank you, but I'm sure there are other people who need this money more."

He pushed the application back at me. "Apply, don't apply. It makes no difference to me. I just think you'd make a good candidate.. Take it home and think about it." He grabbed his briefcase and pushed past me. "Good work on the essay, Alec."

My next class was cancelled, which cleared up the rest of my afternoon. Thanks to my lack of a social life, there was nothing to do but head home. I waited for the bus outside the university with the application still in my hand. I read the document three times on the ride home, ignoring the stench of the people surrounding me. My eyes scanned it for a fourth time as I got off the bus and headed for home. My legs moved forward numbly as I stared at the papers.

Suddenly I became aware that the light overhead had dimmed. I stopped and tried to ignore the nagging in my head that had now escalated to screaming. I lowered the document and lifted my eyes. My legs had blindly taken a turn too early, and now I was standing in a shadowed pathway between two buildings. A group of men about my age were leaning against the buildings a few steps ahead of me, watching me with amusement.

I willed my legs to turn around and retreat but they would not budge. I tried to reason with myself that this was just a group of students enjoying a free period, but that did not calm the thundering of my heart against my ribs. The petrified part of me countered that I'd never seen any of them on campus before. The logical part of me argued that the university was a large institute with thousands of students, which meant it was next to impossible to see everybody. Then there was that feeling. That feeling protested that everything about this felt wrong, that I needed to run. Now.

I managed to back up a step, but I bumped into something solid behind me. There was a soft laugh next to my ear. It sent chills down my spine. The person behind me shoved me forward and I stumbled closer to the group.

A brown-haired guy in a leather jacket and sunglasses perched on the crown of his head pushed off the wall and began circling around me. "Take a wrong turn, my friend?"

I could not bring myself to answer him. When he stopped in front of me, he reached out and snatched the application from my hand. "Grant application, huh? You smart?"

My eyes only met his for a fraction of a second. I stared at the ground and nodded. He crumpled the papers and chucked them down at my feet.

"You sure made a stupid mistake today, genius."

The person behind me grabbed the back of my jacket and tossed me against the brick wall. I let out a small grunt and immediately straightened as others from the group formed a half-circle around me. The brown-haired guy opened the side of his leather jacket enough for me to see a knife resting snugly between his jeans and belt.

"We'll let you off easy this time," he said. "Hand over your wallet and we'll let you go."

I willed my hand not to shake as I reached into my pocket and withdrew my wallet. I passed the folded leather into the guy's outstretched hand and watched as he opened it up and removed the cash from inside. He handed the bills to the blonde on his right.

"Thank you, Alexander—" His words cut off as he stared at my ID. He looked at me through the tops of his eyes. "You're a Lightwood?"

I swallowed hard. What was the use of lying? My ID was all the evidence he needed. "Yes."

The guy smiled and flipped the wallet shut. "Any association with Jace Lightwood?"

I drew myself up taller. "He's my brother."

The group of guys exchanged glances. Their snide smiles made me shrink back against the brick wall.

"You poor son of a bitch," the brunette said. "Your mistake just became the worst decision of your life."

His fist suddenly smashed against my eye. My head snapped back and cracked against the brick wall. And then there was nothing.

I awoke with a jolt. I was in a cold dimly-lit room, my jacket and backpack were missing, and the side of my face throbbed. My cheek was swollen and tender but there was also a dull ache at the back of my head. I sat up and touched the back of my skull, relief washing over me when my fingers came back without any traces of blood. But that relief disappeared when I realized I had no idea where I was. My hand darted to my pocket but my cell phone was gone.

I got up, swaying slightly on my feet. When I regained my equilibrium I headed for the door and tried turning the knob. It barely turned left or right. Locked. I stepped back, fighting a wave of hysteria.

All of a sudden the door swung open. I jumped back as three figures strode in. None of their names registered in my mind, but I remembered their faces from the alley. Just as they'd done before, they advanced on me until I was backed against a wall.

"How perfect is it that Jace Lightwood's brother took a wrong turn and walked right into our hands?" the familiar brunette said.

"How do you know Jace?" I asked.

He feigned hurt. "He didn't mention us?"

"Jace doesn't talk about his personal life."

The guy narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. "How much do you know about your brother?" When I didn't answer he laughed. "You poor bastard. Doesn't matter. None of it will matter in a little while."

One of the guys lunged at me and grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back until I cried out in agony. He kicked the back of my knee and I collapsed to the floor. The third man stepped around me and slammed his fist between my shoulder blades. I toppled forward and caught myself with my hands, gasping. One of them kicked me in the side. I automatically curled into a ball right before another blow came at my lower back.

Blood dripped from my lips as I begged them to stop. Laughter and more blows ensued. I was sprawled facedown when two of the men each grabbed one of my arms and lifted me to my knees. The brunette was standing in front of me, spinning his knife idly. I struggled against the two men to break free, but they held me pinioned in place.

The brunette crouched in front of me and placed the blade against my cheek. He began sliding it upwards, dangerously close to my eye.

"What would you rather be, Alexander?" he whispered. "Blind? Or dead?"

"Please." My voice quavered. "Don't."

He moved the blade to my undamaged cheek and placed the tip at the corner of my eye. I thrashed as he pushed down and began tracing a line down the side of my face. The bite of pain was followed by the warmth of oozing blood. The blade's cold metal rested below my eye again.

"You have such pretty blue eyes," the brunette said. "Why don't we cut them out and send them to your brother?"

I stiffened as he pointed the tip of the knife directly in front of my eye.

"Raphael."

The brunette froze, an annoyed look crossing his face. He lowered the knife and turned. I let out a shaky breath. The men holding my arms were the only things keeping me from collapsing back onto the floor.

"Who is that?" the voice at the door asked.

"Jace Lightwood's brother."

Another figure stepped into the room but I could not lift my eyes to his face. He was wearing dark-wash jeans and expensive-looking Nike shoes. I couldn't help but notice how he stepped on a cluster of my blood globules. He crouched in front of me and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. His hair was jet black and his eyes were shockingly yellow in contrast. He looked at me with a calm demeanour that led me to believe this was not the first time he had looked down on a beaten captive. But there was something else in his eyes, something I could not decode, something contradicting the hatred that lurked in his friends' eyes.

"Can't say I see the resemblance," the dark-haired man said. "I didn't even know Lightwood had a sibling."

"What difference does it make?" the brunette, Raphael, said. "Soon he'll be an only child."

The yellow-eyed man stared into my eyes. "Do you have any association with Raziel's Angels?"

"Raziel's Angels?" I repeated.

"Come on, Magnus," Raphael groaned. "Let's have some fun."

Magnus did not take his eyes from mine, nor did he remove his hand from my chin. "You know how I feel about innocents."

"Fuck me." I could almost hear Raphael roll his eyes.

"Are you associated with Raziel's Angels?" Magnus asked again.

"Raziel's Angels are a gang," I said, flabbergasted. "Why would I be associated with them?"

"Because," Magnus said, "your brother is their leader."