Clarys POV

He's always there, watching me. I know he is. I can feel his gaze burning into my back whenever he's near. I've never seen him, but I've heard him. I hear his taunting, menacing voice in my ear, so soft, so only I can hear him, but loud enough to awaken the madness that has been stirring inside of me for a long time now. I couldn't control it, I've been trying for so long now, but it only seems to make it worse. I've learned to stop trying to fight away his presence, fighting only got me a step closer to being institutionalized.

I glanced behind me quick as lightning and saw nothing but a quick streak of gold, a trick of the light, I assumed.

He was here. I could feel him again, breathing down my back and I turned to my friend Isabelle in a failed attempt to distract me from my surroundings. I sat in my bedroom, the wind howling outside, making my anxiety far worse than it was already.

"Hello," Isabelle sighed, I didn't know what she was sighing out of. Joy; sorrow? I couldn't tell. I did know that I could mimic her sadness perfectly though, if she was if fact unhappy. I sighed after her,

"Hello," I wasn't smiling; I knew that. I rarely ever smiled anymore. I looked down towards my outstretched hands, in a daze.

I soon glanced over to Isabelle's thoughtful face. She was my best friend, with her black locks waving over her shoulders, modest white dress going past her knees and to the ground, it fit her baggily. Her earnest dark stare met mine and I questioned,

"How do you do that?" Even I could here the jealousy seeping it's way into my tone. She cocked her head to the side in a teasing way,

"Do what?" She asked, answering my question with a question. I knew that she already knew what I was talking about which agitated me. Isabelle had been here with me for about 8 years now, always helping me through struggles when I needed her. She never told me tat me stalker wasn't real though; she said that we may never know. I licked her because of that, always so honest. I couldn't help envy her perfection sometimes though.

"You know what I mean-" I was cut off by my brother, Jonathan, making an abrupt entrance into my room.

"Hey, Clary. Watch ya doing?" He eyed me wearily. I don't get why people ask questions they obviously know the answer to, I mean come on, I was obviously talking to Isabelle, but decided to answer anyways,

"Just talking with Izzy," I shrugged towards her, in an act of recognition to her. That's what I called her, Izzy. It fit her far more than Isabelle and she seemed to like it.

"Ah," he looked relieved, but at the same time, I could see a hint of worry hinting it's way into his eyes. I decided not to question it, best not ask questions you might not want the answer to.

"Hey, Izzy," he said, looking to my left, which didn't make much sense considering Izzy was to my right.

"Um. Jon, what are you looking at?" I gave him one of those looks that said 'you haven't gone mad, have you?' He just replied with a laugh and looking again to my right,

"Sorry Izzy, must have gone blind for a minute there, yeah?" She scoffed,

"Ha! It's fine, Jon, see ya later," Jon, without replying, stepped through the exit and closed the door behind him. I knew Jon couldn't see Izzy, or, at least it seemed that way. Jon never responded to what Izzy said and his gaze never directly fastened on her when she spoke as our gazes locked when we spoke. My emerald eyes stayed locked to the door as I voiced my thoughts,

"Izzy, why can't he see you?" I was still locking at the door, so I couldn't see her when she answered, but, obviously, I could hear her,

"I'm just different, Clary. Different is good, okay?"

I nodded, "Okay," we spent the rest of that that in silence, thinking, and in my case, sleeping. I could never seem to get enough of it these days, slumber that is.

"Okay?" "Okay," John Greens quote! TFIOS! Time Lapse…

It was the next morning and I was dreading school, like the few other children on my block. I was a failing student, I couldn't grasp the concepts like my peers could and I had given upon trying to keep my grades up about the same year I started getting made fun of for it. All of my friends scattered the moment a foul name was uttered in my direction, they had said they loved me and I said I loved them; we HAD been friends for 11 years, 11 years I regret now. Love is just a big, fat, jinx. People will say them love you, and you might just believe them, but when the time comes to prove that love, they will be cowering in the closest corner, afraid and not able to do anything about it. I have never believed in love sense that day in the eighth grade.

So here I am, junior year in high school, the place where all you're dreams or all of your most terrifying nightmares will come true. It's a land of opportunity, and I was still to afraid to set sail. I was friendless, apart from Izzy, and was pretty much the largest, shyest failure you will ever meet. I can't remember the last time I truly smiled and I wore dark colors. Not always black, sometimes grey or brown, and that's one of the main reason people hate me. I'm not the most welcoming person on the planet; in fact, I'm pretty far from it. If a child were to look me in the eye, I'd bet money they'd burst into tears and hide behind their mothers. Mothers. They're overrated anyways. My brother and I had darted away from our so-called 'mother' as soon as he was old enough to take custody of me. Now he worked his ass off every day working triple shifts split between the grocery store and gas station to be able to pay for our, food, clothing, and shelter. We didn't have much for than that and our house was pretty bare. I felt bad that I couldn't help pay for everything, but Jon insists I stay home most of the time, I don't know why, but I don't argue, I never argue with Jon, If it weren't for him, I probably wouldn't even be here.

I navigated my way through the halls and up the stairs to find my locker, number 423. The regular blue paint was tainted with an ugly, whore, in bulky, scarlet, letters. I internally kicked myself even though I knew the proclamation was not true. I was a never kissed, virgin, but, at my school, people believe the craziest things if the right people tell them. I opened my locker; I was late, missed the bus and had to walk seven miles in the spring rain to get here. I seized my books out of my plain tan locker and started walking to class, head bowed, fiery red hair curtaining my face.

I stopped dead in my tracks. I could hear breathing, just behind me, I shiver of terror ran through my veins, leaving what felt like Icy, polar trail. I turned behind me and was blinded with gold.

Gold. Gold, gold, gold, gold, gold. It's the flash I see every time I look away from the shadows. It's the one thing I see whenever I happen to look in just the right spot at just the right time. Gold hair, gold eyes, hell, even his skin seemed to be radiating a bit of gold.

This was my shadow. This is what has been haunting me for the past years. The feelings coursing through me were hard to describe. Terror, definitely, shock, for sure, and even a little bit of relief, from finally figuring out what it was that had been lingering behind me through half of my life.

I gasped and I suppose he took this as a sign to do something. He raised a black-gloved fist and knocked me on the forehead. The last thing I saw before passing into a realm of darkness was golden-eyes staring at me coldly, filled to the brim with arrogance.

AN- Sorry if theirs any grammar mistakes in here! This is only my second fanfiction and reviews are always helpful! So please, REVIEW! (Please) I'll try to update soon, maybe in the next two weeks, but I can't promise anything. Until next time, I love you all.

-Annie