Whazzup guys? Lol So this is my first mortal instruments fic and my first suspensy-type fic so it's not gonna be perfect but I'll give it a shot lol There's a little bit of OOC...ok maybe a lot of OOC haha especially with Jace but I think that's it.

Here goes nothing!

"How are you feeling today?"

Scritch, scritch, scritch.

I couldn't hear anything over the scratching of the pencil on paper. And even if I was trying to pay attention, the noise would've drifted in one ear and leaked out of the other.

The more I drew the more the image that was painted in my mind began to disappear. Good. That was very good. I never wanted to see that dreadful sight again.

"Clarissa?"

Hearing my name being said like that, emphasis on the ris made me freeze. It was the way they called me. It only made things worse.

I cleared my throat, as I sat my pencil down and pushed the drawing away from me. I sat up and smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I was in the zone."

The woman, Dr. Harple smiled. "It's quite all right. May I ask what you were drawing?"

I shrugged, trying to play the whole thing as nonchalant. "Something I saw in a dream. Nothing too important."

"Can I look at it?"

I looked back at the dark picture. "You could," I started. "But I won't let you."

"Why not?" Her voice was calm and patient. I should've been able to answer her without being rude. But behind that kindness I sensed something. Like she was purposely digging, searching for the core of my soul. And I didn't like it. We met one freaking week ago and this is our first session. What makes her think I'm gonna give her so much information on the first date?

"I don't let anyone look at them," I said, closing the book. "Most of them are kind of dark. I don't like to scare people. I burn them when they're finished."

"So you've shown them to people before?"

I nodded. "I drew my first one in sixth grade. It was exactly how I imagined it. So, I showed it to my mom." I laughed humorlessly. "Almost gave her a heart attack."

Dr. Harple sat up in her chair, gripping her pen in a death hold. But when she spoke, her voice was still calm. Like she had practiced it over and over. Maybe that's what was causing the dark circles under her eyes. "What was the picture of?"

"I don't remember," I said. "That's why I burn them. So I can forget."

"Why do you want to forget them? Most artists hang their pictures up on their wall. Why not you?"

"Because," I said harshly. "When I have those horrible nightmares, there's always one part that stays with me. And everywhere I look, there's that dream, haunting me. The only way I can make it go away is to draw it and then burn it."

"When did your nightmares start?"

"I don't remember. I just know I've been having them for a long time."

"Do, you have a hard time sleeping at night, Clarissa?"

I flinched.

There it was again. That goddamned name.

"It's Clary," I said firmly. "My name is Clary."

She smiled. "I apologize, Clary. But back to your sleeping habits?"

I shook my head. "No. It's actually extremely easy. At the end of the day, I'm always tired."

"Have you been feeling depressed lately? Or maybe angry?"

I scoffed. "Uh, hello? That's every day of my life." I rolled my eyes. "I'm in high school. There's always some stupid bitch trying to make your life a living hell."

"Is school always this stressful?"

God, what an idiot! "I may be exaggerating a bit. But no, I guess not. Depending on what day of the week it is."

"Why does the date matter?"

"Date means everything," I said as if the answer were obvious. "Mondays are the worst, Wednesdays are better and Fridays are kick-ass."

"Do you have a lot of friends at school?"

"If by that you mean am I popular? No. But I'm not completely alone. I've got a few friends."

"What are they like?"

"Friendly."

Dr. Harple smiled but I could see impatience beginning to spark in her eyes. "Anything else you can tell me about them?"

"Not at the moment."

She looked up at me, a serious face on now. "Clary, you're safe here. You can tell me anything."

I crossed my arms and leaned back on the couch. "I think I'll be the judge of that."

Dr. Harple pointed at a certificate hanging on her wall. "My job is literally all about confidentiality."

I nodded. "I know. But you understand, don't you? Even if someone said they were trustworthy, you wouldn't give out all of your friend's information out to a stranger, would you?"

She looked down, writing more things on her notepad. "You're a smart girl."

I didn't respond. I only watched her write. "Do you think I'm crazy."

"No," she answered immediately. "I think something's bothering you. You just won't say anything about it. Or maybe you're in denial. Nothing that can't easily be fixed."

"Be fixed," I repeated. "So you think there's something wrong with me?"

"I never said that."

"It was implied."

Dr. Harple cleared her throat. "That's all the time for today."

"Bullshit."

"That's all," she said slower, "the time we have." She stood up and opened the door and invited my mother into the room. "Clary, could you wait out in the hall? I'd like to speak with your mother alone."

I picked up my notebook and pencil and sat in the hallway while the two women conversed about how crazy I was.

Clarissa…

I clenched my eyes shut and blindly searched for my iPod in my school bag.

Don't be afraid…we don't bite…much.

My fingers wrapped themselves around my iPod and ripped it out of the pocket it was safely tucked into.

I shoved the headphones in my ears and impatiently waited for the damned thing to turn on.

We're coming for you…

Finally the apps popped up and I knew I was safe. I clicked the music app.

I see you…

My hand froze above the play button.

Slowly, I tilted my head up and swept the room with my eyes.

There was the girl at the reception, pretty brown hair tucked into a messy braid and a gold crucifix that was rusting slightly was hanging from her neck.

It wasn't her.

A middle-aged woman trying to comfort her autistic teenage boy by the front door. Her hair was graying at the roots and dark circles were under her eyes.

When her son agreed to go into the room with the psychiatrist, she smiled and kissed his cheek. Then she sat down in one of the chairs and began to cry lightly.

Not her either.

You can't find me…

I pressed play on the screen and turned it up as loud as I dared.

A young looking woman with beautiful light brown hair walked in with a boy, who was only a tiny bit taller than her.

His hair was blonde but browning at the roots. Was that her son? No. The woman was too young.

Wait, is that I gray hair, I see?

Ok. So the boy is her son. Maybe.

The two of them sat down at the chairs closer to me, neither of them wanting to be next to the crying woman in the corner.

The blonde boy caught my gaze. It was only maybe for a moment but that moment felt like it lasted forever.

What was wrong with his eyes?

They were gold, almost the same color as his hair. They were absolutely beautiful. But was that normal?

The woman saw him gazing at me and looked at me as well. She smiled sweetly and I nodded my head in acknowledgment.

I'm sure there was more people but none in the hallway/waiting room.

I was almost sure that the man was lying. So I leaned back in my chair and allowed myself to relax.

Theory of a Deadman's music made me smile. Not only were they're songs realistic, they were funny as shit.

A door towards the back of the building opened.

I watched as a young woman, no more than twenty, left the room with the psychiatrist following her. They were laughing as if they'd heard a joke.

But then I looked into the man's eyes and his whole figure changed.

He wasn't real. There was no handsome redhead with light blue eyes. He was only using the body as a meat suit.

Under that body was a creature that had bluish-grayish skin, like he was rotting. His teeth were black, no nose, just two holes in the middle of his face. And his eyes were blank. Literally. They had no color, no pupils, no nothing. Just white.

He smiled at me.

The blonde boy and his possible mother stood up and began to walk towards the man.

"No!" I ran in front of them, forcing them to stop.

The woman looked concerned and the blonde boy looked straight-up annoyed.

"Don't go with him," I said shakily. "You can't."

"Clary, what the hell do you think your doing?"

I could hear the man cackling in my head at the mention of hell.

My mom stood by the doorway to Dr. Harple's office.

Dr. Harple was writing things down in her notepad again.

I looked back at the people in front of me.

The blonde boy was staring at the not-so-sweet psychiatrist. There was fear in his eyes. Good. He sees it too. I'm not insane.

The woman was waving her hand in his face, trying to get his attention.

Finally, my mom came and grabbed my arm. "Clary, let's go," my mom said. "You're making a scene."

"Good," I replied.

"Is there a problem here?"

I yelped and ran behind my mother like a little kid.

The pupil-less creature was standing in front of us, eyes glued on mine, same cocky smirk there.

If he wanted to kill me why didn't he just do it all ready?

"No," my mom said. "We're just leaving." She tried to drag me away. And I should've followed her. But I was scared for the boy. His skin was already pale. So to see all the blood drain from his face wasn't a very pretty sight.

"Jace, go with Dr. Anderson," the woman said.

"No," he snapped. "I'm not going anywhere with him."

"Clary, let's go." She tugged my arm harder. She was too strong to resist. So I stumbled down the hall, my eyes glued on the two of them, hoping they'd get away safely.

"Clary, stop it."

I almost turned around and told her to shut up while I listened.

"Maryse, don't make me go with him," the boy, Jace, said.

She, Maryse, sighed. "I'm sorry, Dr. Anderson. Do you mind if we reschedule?"

"Of course," the creature said. "It's not a problem. I think I'm free next Friday but I'll have to check. Can I call you later, around eight-ish?"

"Clarissa Fray," my mom whisper-yelled, "if you don't get your ass in the car right this very instance, so help me-"

I strained to hear over my mother's voice.

"Sure. Again-"

"-I will take you over my knee-" my mother continued.

"-very sorry about this."

The two of them turned around and headed for the front doors.

I stopped resisting my mom and ran to the car, slamming the door shut and taking deep breaths.

My mother and I didn't talk on the way to our apartment. I wasn't sure if she was mad about what happened at community center or not. But how could you blame your daughter for being crazy.

But then again, I'm not crazy.

Ugh, I wish I was crazy. I hate it when my mother's mad at me.

But if I was crazy I'd have to take a bunch a pills.

Man, does my life suck.

So? You guys like it? If you didn't maybe it'll get better along the way? I don't know. Lol review plz!

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