Chapter One:

I go to bed with one target: peaceful sleep. Something that I have never had since I was five, and my mother left me to deal with my father and brother. I hit my head on the pillow, only to be greeted by another nightmare about the day that my life shattered.

I chuck another knife at the target, my palms already sweaty. Thwack! One for the mother, Jocelyn, that had left me. Thwack! Two for my abusive father. Thwack! A third for my abusive brother. I am listing the things that are wrong with my life.

I pick up another knife and get into position. I inwardly cringe as the door of the training room slams open with a thud. That can only mean one person.

"Miss me much, little sis?" My brother Jonathan taunts, walking over to me.

I drop the next knife in my hand and turn towards him, cautiously, avoiding his steely gaze. Really, anything could happen if I tick him off.

"Yes, Jonathan?" My ten year old self says.

He laughs, bending down for me to look into the bottomless black pits that he calls eyes. His crisp blond hair is tousled, meaning that him and my father, Valentine, have probably been working today.

"Clarissa, you will look at me when you speak." He says, and brings his foot to my stomach, causing my knees to buckle and collapse as my weak body handles the blow.

I am sure to look him in the eyes when I respond. "What is it you wish to speak to me about?"

He eerily smiles, causing shivers down my back. "I am here to take you to father, he wishes for you to see someone."

I shakily stand up on my wobbly legs, and sadly follow him out the doors of the training room into the halls of the Morgenstern manor. Down several confusing hallways that I know all too well he takes me, leading the way to Valentine.

At last, he takes me down the stone stairs of the basement, opening the creaky door.

"Ah, Clarissa, is that you?" My father's voice echoes through the room. On one side of the wall are shelves and shelves of books, and a metal cabinet containing god knows what. On the other side are various means of torture devices. Also, some steles and regular shadowhunter tools are leaned up against the wall. A giant table looms in the middle. The room is dimly lit, allowing you to see blood stains on the cold floor, most of which is mine.

You see, my father always liked to see how much I could endure, what with him injecting my mother with angel blood and all.

The one thing I didn't think I would see though, was my father, stele in hand, loomed over a large figure caked in blood. The large figure was a man.

He was Stephan Herondale.

You see, Stephan Herondale had once been my fathers right-hand man. He was kind, thoughtful, and may I say so myself, extremely talented. He was good at handling just about any weapon, making him the perfect partner in crime.

He was constantly at the manor, collaborating with my father on ideas, and letting Valentine train his angel-blood son, too. Jace Herondale. One day, Stephan decided that he didn't want to be part of my father's organization, the circle(an organization whose main purpose was to take down the Clave) anymore. He took his son and left, knowing that my father would look for him. I didn't blame him one single bit. Personally, I would've wanted to escape too if I could.

That was about a year ago, so what was he doing here, now?

Valentine beckoned me over with his hand, the other still clutching the bloody knife. "As you know, this is Stephan Herondale. Apparently, he was going to notify the Clave of our organization's plans, therefore, I would like you to witness me killing this man."

I gasped. My father knew how much I hated seeing people killed. "They'll find you and kill you," Stephan spat, "Jace is on his way right now. You won't be able to stop them."

I tried to run toward the man, but was stopped by a firm hand. My father turned toward me. "Clarissa, you are going to kill this man."

"No father! I'm not going to kill him!" I screamed. I knew the consequences of disobeying my father. Images of hours locked in a closet, what seemed like hours and hours of lashes, cuts, bruises, scars, kicking, and punching filled my mind.

By now, my eyes brimmed with unshed tears. I knew Stephan, and I liked him. He was always one of the few nice people in my life. Along with my mother and Luke, who had been banished by my father once he knew that he was a warewolf.

My father grabbed the whip from the corner. Jonathan ripped open the back of my training shirt and the whip came down. One by one, it opened previous wounds and created new ones, until I could only feel numbness.

I stopped hearing the whip and turned in time to see my father shove a sword into Stephan's heart, ceasing the beating of his heart forever.

I did, however, feel two runes being drawn on my arm, the immobility rune was the first. The second however, wouldn't be recognizable to the ordinary shadowhunter eye, because I had created it. It was a rune by which the giver would tell you a story, and you wouldn't be able to tell anyone differently.

By now, the plan was fitting perfectly in my mind. Valentine walked over, accompanied by a scowling Jonathan.

"Now, if anyone asks what happened here Clarissa, you killed Stephan of your own free will because he defied your father. You cannot tell anyone about the rune. You will tell them that Jonathan and I-"

At that moment, I hear a commotion going on upstairs. My father opens the portal and he and Jonathan step through. Before they both leave, father looks me in the eyes. "If by any means they somehow find out about the rune, or anything else for that matter, I will personally track down and kill everyone that you love."

All I could do was stare. A sharp pain came over my head as Valentine kicks it, and I fall into darkness.

The scene in my dream changes I am sitting in a chair in Allicante, surrounded by members of the Clave. This is about five hours after waking up and being dragged by shadowhunters through a portal.

Shackles encase both my legs and arms. I don't know how they can deem a ten year old so murderous that they need these. There are several Clave members surrounding me in their uniforms, each sitting at a large U-shaped table. There must be fifty or so people.

At the front of the podium stands two people. The first is a woman- looking to be in her sixties- who is the leader of the Clave I believe. The second is what catches my attention.

There is a little boy, looking to be a little older than me, with gold hair and his mom's gold eyes. He is Jace Herondale. I know because I have seen him before at the manor, training. He is looking at me with loathing, and I feel horrible.

My father just ruined his life.

The older woman looks me in the eyes. "Please state you full name."

Easy. "Clarissa Adele Morgenstern."

"Miss Morgenstern, the Clave has evidence to believe that you have killed Stephen Herondale. Is this true."

NO! I start to cry, but manage to choke out, "Yes."

I can barley hear as the older woman asks me to state what happened. I tell them that I killed him because he defied my father, and can hardly look when Jace starts crying.

I tug at my chains, wanting to curl up in a ball and die, when the older woman announces, "Clarissa, I regret to inform you that the Clave has enough evidence to prove you guilty. You are sentenced to life in prison. We will come back in ten years to re-examine this case, seeing as you are under-aged. Session over."

I want to cringe at the sound of the chair legs against the cold marble floors, as two men undo me handcuffs while holding me back from escaping. I am not trying to get away, and I don't even know why I'm bothering living at this point. Nobody cares if I live or die. I feel like I just killed someone.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up to see the Herondale boy. He glares at me. "When I can, I will kill you. You killed my father. I will kill you. I swear on the angel."

I am left there, sobbing uncontrollably. My whole world has come crashing down. I really feel like dying.

I hear a sudden crash, and the tall glass windows are all shattered, and werewolves are invading the hall. They aren't attacking the people, but they're making their way towards me. It all clicks in my head.

Luke, at the front of the pack, picks me up and carries me off.

I wake up screaming to myself, at this horrible dream. Then I realize, it's not a dream.

It's a memory.