A/N: I've wanted to make this for so long.
PSYCHO TMI PEOPLE!
So I did the first chapter of this instead of another Chapter of Welcome Home.
You can kill me. That's okay.
Love yal
~ DST
*DISCLAIMER* I DO NOT OWN TMI OR ITS CHARACTERS. I JUST MAKE EM HAVE PSYCHOLOGICAL DISORDERS.
"It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane."
― Philip K. Dick
Chapter One
There Are Bars
. . .
. . .
. . .
Five Years Ago
Clarissa
. . .
. . .
. . .
"Stop it!" I could still hear Jocelyn's drunken screams echoing the house.
But I knew she was gone. Valentine brought fists down on her broken body again. Even though she was gone.
Half of me wanted to scream and cry. Wanted to jump up from my spot on the chair, which was where I was to stay, or they would beat me again. That part scared me, given how much my parents hate me.
The scarier part wanted to laugh.
Valentine dragged her body outside, into the deep wooded area of New York. I heard him grab the shovel.
"What's wrong, Clary?" The blue bird, resting on the arm of the chair, cocked his head to the side. His feathers such an amazing blue, I reach out to stroke them, so that's exactly what I do. And oh, are they soft.
"M-my name's Clarissa," I stutter. Why would the blue bird call me that? He doesn't even know me! Suddenly, I pull my hand back and smack the bird, and it collapses from its spot to the ground. Its wings broken, and its yellow beak opens and screams my mother's screams. Hopping up from the chair, forgetting the rules about not getting up, I stomp on the bird, just to make the screams stop. When it does, I look down, laughing. The bird is gone, as if it were never there. I laugh again
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
Present
Clary
. . .
. . .
. . .
There are bars on my windows. There are bars on my mind. There are bars on my world.
Looking back, I'm glad the blue bird gave me that name. It has a better ring to it. Clary, fairie, scary . . .
I don't like being called Clarissa. It's what he calls me. She used to call me that to.
*Flash back*
"Mama?"
"The hell do you want, bitch? I already told you to go to bed!" I winced. Mommy was either drunk all the time, ignoring me, or abusing me, physically and verbally.
"I love you."
CRACK My hand went to my cheek, then my eyes went to the floor. A beer bottle. She had thrown a beer bottle at her eight year old daughter, because she told her she loved her.
"Goodnight, Mommy," I whisper, tears gathering in my eyes.
"Whatever."
*End flashback*
The lock on my door was locked. Valentine always locked my bedroom door. I watched a movie called Matilda when I was six. I figured I would learn like her, with reading the books that were my only friends.
I had a pet once. A rat. I called him Simon, and he would always told me that I was a coward. He died when I was thirteen. "
You want to play with us, Clary?" A pink bunny with red eyes and blood coming out of its yellow ears asks me. As it opens its mouth, blood oozes out, pooling onto the floor. The blood turns into rage-red bats, crawling on insect legs toward me.
"G- Go away," I stutter.
"Claaarrryyyyyy . . ." The bats cry out in a sing song voice. Terrified, I scoot backwards. And I felt one of my attacks coming on. I wheezed, my heart pounding in my ears. Panic took over me.
This is it. I'm really going to die. I threw my head back, hitting the wall, momentarily hitting my head back on the wall, causing my eyes to close.
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
The bats are gone when I open my eyes again. But he's here instead.
"Make any friends today, Clarissa?" He sneers. I whimper and close my eyes, cowering again.
"The bats were mean," I mumble.
"Get up, bitch."
"No," his expression hardens, his eyes sharpening and darkening with malice. Black eyes. Deep, coal coloured pools that drown you, not in the way I read about in romances.
The way that holds your head underwater, blocking out the oxygen until you forget who and where you are. Thats what it felt like. That's what it was.
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
Stop. Please.
. . .
. . .
. . .
Stop choking me.
. . .
. . .
. . .
Enough.
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
"Go outside, Clary. You know what to do with him," a cold voice said. I looked around and saw nobody. Except him. Unconscious.
"Wha- What do I do?" I gulped.
"Think about what he did to you. To your mother." I was caught somewhere between a dream, a nightmare, and a reality.
I kissed Valentine's cheek. His pulse was still strong.
That moment would haunt me forever. Because that's when I dragged him outside, and grabbed the shovel. I remember exactly what he did to my mother.
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
"You are Clarissa Morgenstern?" The police officer had shown up at my door, and dragged me down to his station. Everyone is too serious down here, and it feels like some joke. It doesn't help that white bunnies are scurrying like rats on the floor.
"No. I'm Clary Fray. I chose my mothers last name, because Morgenwhatever is wayyyyyyy too long. And the blue bird called me Clary that night my mother died, so yah . . ." I babble. He clears his throat and pulls on his tie, which already looks too tight.
"And you . . . um . . . killed your father, Ms. Fray?"
"Oh, well you see, the voice told me too."
"Excuse me?" I sigh. They never understand.
"I had a panic attack."
"Ms. Fray," He sits forward in his chair. I copy him, a game me and a doe once played. "Ms. Seelie asked you some questions, and discovered that you are, in fact, diagnosed with Panic Disorder and Schizophrenia. Now don't worry a bit, we know just the place to put you."
. . .
. . .
. . .
A/N: Bwahahahahhahahhah okay so you like, daylighters?
That is only how Simon will come up. As a rat.
I can't wait to show you guys Magnus.
All the disorders I use are real. Google them.
Thoughts? Review!
~ DST