hey guys! This idea just popped into my head a few days ago. i really love these kinds of stories, so I wanted to make one. As some of you may know, I suck at intro chapters so just bear with me. As always, ideas are appreciated. I hope you like it!


"I apologize to myself for living in the future

And letting what's ahead get in the way

Because if happiness is always down the road

Then I'm missing it today"

-Breathe In, Breathe Out, the Afters

Chapter 1: Breathe in, Breathe Out.

Jace Lightwood was never one to do what he was told. He was always the bad boy. So when his family asked him to help unpack the moving truck, he went for a walk instead. He had always been like that. Countless foster homes have him up for his many faults. Drugs, smoking, drinking, tattoos. He couldn't care less. He couldn't wait to be free from the bounds that tied him to a family.

After many foster homes, the Lightwoods took care of him. They were heart broken that Jace was ruining himself like this. He often laughed at their half-assed attempts to get him to stop. Jace always thought of them as hypocrites. Isabelle, who was a few months younger than him, was clinically depressed and Alec, who was a few years older, had been banished from the family because of his sexuality. So he didn't care about what they thought, but he was always careful around the little Lightwood, Max. While he didn't care about what his adoptive family thought of him, he still respected them. Unfortunately, Max Lightwood looked up to him for everything. It was more annoying than anything. He couldn't be who he was in front of his adoptive family because of this feeling inside of him that held him back, and he hated it.

So while Jace was on his long walk through the new neighborhood that they had moved to, he lit up a cigarette and stuck the pack back in his pocket. He needed the burning to sharpen his thoughts. He didn't know how long he'd been walking for or where he was going. Jace finally settled down in the roots of a gnarled tree. The wind had picked up slightly, blowing unruly blond curls into his face. He took another puff of his cigarette before tossing it on the ground and stepping on it. The new neighborhood that the Lightwood family had decided to live in was small compared to the mansions that they used to have. The house that they bought was bigger compared to the two-floored houses that lined the streets. The town was in the more rural parts of New York City. Their new school was closer to the urban parts of the city. Jace couldn't help but notice the grunts coming from the backyard of the house in front of him. Something drew him to the sound. He got up and walked steadily towards the fence. He didn't expect to see what he saw.

A short red head with bright green eyes was throwing knifes at a tree in her backyard. Her wavy hair was up in a ponytail and her hands were covered in fingerless gloves. She effortlessly flung the knives into the center of the hand painted target. Jace stared at the knives that were embedded in the thick bark. He was so immersed in the knife, that he didn't notice the knife being thrown right at him. It stuck in the fence right in front of him. "You missed." Jace grinned.

The small girl rolled her leaf green eyes in annoyance. "If I wanted to hit you, I would've, dumbass."

He looped his hand over the fence and unlatched the gate, swinging it open. "I don't doubt it," he said. "I was watching you. You're good."

She turned back to the target. "Oh great," she muttered. "You're a dumbass and a creeper."

"Hey," he said indignantly, a smirk growing on his face. "Is that any way to treat the new guy?" She shrugged delicately. "It's how I treat everyone."

"So you throw knives at everyone and call them 'dumbass'?" Jace asked. "Nope." She threw another knife at the target. "It's how I treat everyone I hate, which is the majority of the population of my school."

"Well, I'll have to watch out for you, Red." She glared at the blond boy with distaste. "I have a name, stupid."

Jace stroked his chin slowly. "Which is...?" She glared at him and flung another knife forward into the tree. "Get lost, asshat," she said.

"Asshat?" He was amused. He checked his beeping phone and said:'"Well, I have to get home. Later, Red."

"We'll see about that, dumbass," she muttered as he left. But while he had a confident smirk plastered to his face, the kept thinking of the red-headed girl. He didn't even reach for his cigarettes once.


Clary Fray was never one to be messed with. Under her short, fragile appearance lay a tough, badass girl that kept everyone away. Her past was not an everyday bed time story. It held pain, suffering, and death. She tried everything to forget what had happened when she was a child, but emotional and physical scars reminded her constantly that she was broken. A damaged good with no value.

She was seven when her parents died. Her mother was first, desperately trying to hide her little girl from her father. Clary was locked away in her mother's room with her back pressed against the hard wooden bed frame. The screams and shouts filled her shaking body as she heard her parents fight. A loud shriek of pain filled the corridor outside of Jocelyn Fray's room. The door burst open, and in came Clary's mother, clutching her stomach. She looked into her daughter's green eyes as the light left her own and she collapsed to the ground. Clary tried to scream but no sound came out. Valentine stood in the doorway, holding a bloody knife and watching his shaking daughter. Gunshots rang out and Valentine Morgenstern fell to the ground. The sight of his daughter was the last thing that he saw.

It was a blur of family members' homes and adoption papers until Clary settled down with her mother's best friend, Luke. She hadn't moved since then. He had owned an art shop with Jocelyn, but he turned it into a bookstore after she died. Too many memories, he had told Clary. For a while, everything was fine But Clary still had the scars. The ones that were carved into her memory. The breaking glass, the wooden remnants of the broken door. The large ugly scar on her arm from where the wood cut her. She still had nightmares from that night. Every detail was branded into her mind. The light fading out of her mother's eyes, the blood gushing out from her father's gun wounds. Yes, Clary Fray was damaged. She was never the same since September 24, 1998. She had tried to let it go.

But seeing the arrogant blond-headed boy today brought up memories of her past. She didn't know why, but despite what she wanted, she was drown to the boy. Maybe it was because she knew that behind those mischievous golden eyes, lay someone who was scared and alone. Or maybe it was because he seemed just as broken as she was.


Jace walked in through the doors of his new home. He took in the sight of the scattered cardboard boxes and thought: I'll never get to see it like this. He carefully picked his way through the mess and traveled up the stairs to the room that he had picked out hours before. It wasn't huge, but it was good for Jace. It had a queen sized bed with a simple brown chest of drawers and a desk. Crisp white bed sheets were already tucked into the corners of the bed, just how Jace liked it. Maryse, he thought.

He ripped opened his only box and took out the Scotch that rested inside, carefully wrapped in towels and a picture. He lifted up the paper to see his birth father and mother smiling back at him. His smiling four-year-old self was on his father's shoulders. What would they think of me?

He shook his head vigorously and took a swig of the Scotch, stripping off his shoes and climbing into the bed in his cigarette scented clothes. He fell asleep with the alcohol in his hand and thoughts of his parents in his mind.


Okay I know that was very short. I'll try to make longer chapters. Let me know if I should continue this or not. REVIEW! THANKS FOR READING.