Hello! Thank you so much for clicking!
This is my first fanfiction, and it's going to be kind of twisted for a while. There may be some graphic scenes of physical and emotional abuse. I'll try not to be go into too much detail about any sexual abuse.
If abuse of any kind, adult language (I have a foul mouth), and potentially smut bother you, please do not read this story. You have been warned, so anything that happens beyond this point is your own responsibility. Read at your own risk.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments. I'm just dicking around.
-Clary-
I woke up this morning with a melancholy sort of feeling. It was the kind of feeling that feels like it shouldn't belong—something that tilted the world on its axis—and not in a good way, either. I tried to draw this feeling, but all that came out was a child sitting in a window seat. Her hand was raised up to the glass, and it kind of resembled an eggplant, while her face was a distorted mess.
I wish I could draw like mother did.
"Clarissa! Get your ass down here! I'm hungry," Valentine calls from downstairs. I jump from my bed, red hair spreading out in every direction, still wearing my pajamas. I rush downstairs in a hurry, hoping not to make him angry.
I hear someone approaching as I reached the bottom step. When arms wrap around me I stiffen my entire body. My feet are lifted entirely from the ground, and I do my best not to gasp when they come into contact with my bruised body. My heart beats like a drum against my chest, and I assume that he is going to hurt me.
I feel my feet being place firmly back on the soft beige carpet. All of my fear is set aside when I realize that I was being greeted by my favorite person in the world: my brother, Jonathan.
"Jon!" I call out, pulling him back into a hug. "I've missed you," I say a little quieter.
"I've missed you too, CC," he says, smiling down at me. "I'm sorry I haven't been around more. I hope you're okay. He hasn't hurt you too badly, has he?" he whispers the last part, making sure that Valentine doesn't hear.
I shake my head no, but I call tell that he sees the lie in my eyes. The beatings get a little worse every day, but I don't tell him that.
Jonathan and I moved in with our father, Valentine, two years ago after our mother was killed in a drive by shooting. I was 14 at the time. Jonathan was 17, and he couldn't get out fast enough. The second her turned 18 he was gone, but he left me with a promise to come back and see me. He said that as soon as he could, he'd come back for me, and get me out of here. That was a little over a year ago. Jon turned 19 last month, and I will be 16 in 2 weeks time. I'd never tell Jonathan, but I've lost all hope of ever getting out alive.
"Clarissa! Stop fucking around and make breakfast!" Valentine yells from the living room.
"Yes, sir," I call, making my way to the kitchen. I decide to make Jon's favorite breakfast: bagels with strawberry cream cheese, and a glass of original almond milk.
After preparing the bagels, I poor 3 tall glasses of almond milk and carry them on a tray into the sitting room.
"Clary!" Jonathan says, excitedly "You made my favorite!" He grabs a bagel, and takes a ridiculously large bite, humming in approval.
After the three of us finish eating our breakfast I clear the dishes, and place them in the dishwasher. When I walk back into the living room, Valentine looks me up and down. I'm suddenly aware of my appearance. "Clarissa, go upstairs and get cleaned up. You look like a slob. I'm tired of looking at you anyways."
"See you later, Clary." Jonathan adds, before I leave the room.
I rush upstairs, to do as he says.
"Hey, CC, I've got to go now," Jonathan says from the doorway of my bedroom.
I get up to hug him goodbye. "When will you be back?"
"I don't know. Soon, I promise." He envelopes me in a gentle hug, careful not to hurt me this time.
"Bye," I whisper, sadly, wishing that he would take me with him.
He closes the door behind him. I listen to his footsteps getting quieter and quieter, until I can't hear them anymore at all. All I can hear is the roar of his engine as he drives away. The feeling of abandonment washes over me, followed by fear when I hear Sebastian's voice from the staircase.
"Cllllllary!" he sings, stomping loudly as his feet hit each step.
I know what is coming next. I've been here before. When he enters my room, I do not fight him. I don't cry, or scream or do any of the things I know will turn him on. When he removes my clothing and throws me onto my bed, I close my eyes and think of England.
Thanks for reading!
-IWriteNaked
