Hello, my beautiful readers, all of these mini stories are of the TMI gang feeling like they're wasting their life.. kinda. I'm not sure how to explain lol. So, PLEASE review, I love reviews. Disclaimer: I do not own the song, Wasted, by Cartel, nor the wonderful characters, by Cassandra Claire, sadly (;
Love, Piano
It's 2:45, the baby takes his first breath
The mother never knew he only had a few left and
The father gets a call in the middle of the night
His breath gets short and his chest gets tight
Jocelyn Morgenstern held her beautiful newborn baby in her arms, lovingly caressing his soft rosy cheek. Jonathan, she had named him, for Jonathan Shadowhunter. Jonathan shifted in her arms, and his eyelids fluttered and opened for the first time.
Jocelyn gasped. Hot tears began to pour down her cheeks, tears of shame and sorrow. What had she done? Her beautiful child... he was a monster, his eyes as black and unforgiving as her own husband's soul.
Valentine strode into the room, gently lifting his son from Jocelyn's arms. He smiled proudly and murmured: "He's perfect."
"Perfect," repeated Jocelyn, wiping her eyes. She was repulsed at her feelings toward her newborn son. Shouldn't this be a happy moment?
Valentine carried Jonathan out of the room, barely acknowledging his wife. Jocelyn buried her head in her hand, shaking with silent sobs. She would never forgive herself.
But he's 16, and he's driving too fast
Takes a turn to the left, it would be his last
Nobody knows what happens if he turns to the right
Nobody in the car would've died that night
Max glanced worriedly out the window, letting his thoughts wander to Jace and his siblings. Were they okay? He turned away from the window and plopped himself down on the plush couch.
"Sebastian?" he called, "Could you read to me?"
"Of course," Sebastian answered coolly, sitting himself down next to him. Max reached down and pulled his books from the beige carpet. He sat up, his manga novels in his lap, and turned to find a knife at his throat. Sebastian smiled. Max didn't understand.
"Goodbye, Max."
The blade cut into his neck painfully at first, but Sebastian's hand was quick. Max became numb rapidly, the darkness enveloping him. He let out a muffled cry and fell to the floor. Sebastian snorted in disgust and left, his dead foe lying limply on the floor, the manga books sprawled out, bloodstained and forgotten on the floor.
But he's 32 and invincible.
The cancer he had it was visceral
He never saw it coming thought he had his whole life
Sick in the morning and he died in the night
Alec looked down at his wrists: they were scarred and mutilated almost beyond recognition. There was no place left to cut.
With a sigh, Alec fetched his steele from his pocket and quickly carved an iratze on the top of his hand. He watched as his scars disappeared and his new cuts faded into thin white lines. He pocketed his steele again, and went to work, carving intricate designs and hate words on his arm, an artist and a blank canvas, as he liked to think of it. It made his actions seem less harsh, somehow, almost tolerable. The razor stung, but to Alec the pain was bliss, the only pain he could control in his life. The blood ran down his arms and leaked onto his ripped jeans. He watched sadly and wished that he was strong enough to do it, to end his life. He was a waste, the blood leaking from his cuts only a small piece of proof that he would never be loved.
We're all so...
We're on the line
We're all, we're all
We're wasted, no no no
We're all wasted
We're wasted, no no
We're all wasted
Valentine gazed adoringly at Jace, but wore an expression of uninterested annoyance. He truly did love his "son", Valentine had raised him well. "So," he asked again, coldly, "will you join me, Son? I promise none of your friends will be hurt, not the Lightwoods, or your dear sister."
He could tell his mention of Clary stung his 'son', and mentally congratulated himself. Jace stared at him blankly. His face suddenly turned into a mask of rage.
"No," he spat. "I.. I hate you!" He bolted from the room, and Valentine could hear the demon motorcycle start up outside. He turned away, trying desperately hard to mask his emotions. Failing, Valentine allowed bitter tears to run down his cheeks, after all, no one was there to see. There had been very few people he had ever loved.
Lucian was a beast.
Jocelyn left him.
And Jace..
Jace, his last hope, hated him as well.
7 years old, got his bat in his hand
He's looking for his father and he doesn't understand
'Cause dad's too busy, got some deals on the way
His son sits alone as the children play
Jace unpacked his bag, sitting alone. It was his first day at the Lightwood's, and they seemed nice enough. Alec, their oldest, was nice, but he seemed more interested in reading than playing. Isabelle was okay, and Jace appreciated her effort at making him feel welcome- she made him cookies- but Jace wanted a boy to talk to, someone he could confide in..
Dad.
He whimpered.
Valentine's eyes rolled up in his head, the blood spreading, staining his cotton shirt. Jace yelped, rushing to his fallen father. He held him, weeping over his dying body, the thought of losing the only family he'd ever known crushing him internally.
It was nine PM. Jace's eyes were heavy with sleep. He curled up into a ball on the bed in his room, shivering. The Institute was cold, and Jace longed for his home in Idris.
"Il ya longtemps que je t'aime."
Jace gasped, and quieted his breathing. He could hear Maryse's voice from the other room, singing to her children. He listened in awe as she finished the lullaby, and moved from Isabelle's room to Alec's. She repeated the song in that same sweet voice. Jace waited.
Maryse finished the song again, and Jace could hear her in the halls. She paused outside his room for a second, Jace hoped, but she continued walking. He felt a pang.
Sadness.
Anger.
Loneliness.
He would never belong here.
And he's 18 he couldn't wait to move out
His parents wonder what all the rush is about
They never bothered with his dreams
Only thinking of theirs
Wonders why he doesn't call and why he doesn't care
"M.. Mom?" called Magnus tentatively. If his dad found him, he'd be beaten again for sure. He quietly walked into the big barn at the back of their house. Magnus shivered as the cold wind bit into his almost-unprotected skin. His clothes were little more than rags, worn thin from years of use. Magnus looked around for his mother.
And stopped dead.
His mother, the only person who had ever shown him any kindness, was hanging from a rope in the middle of the barn.
Magnus screamed and fell to the ground, his body shaking with sobs.
Someone came running into the barn, and Magnus could tell from the sound that it was his father. Magnus flinched, but continued to cry.
His father sucked in a breath. Magnus looked up through tear-filled eyes, and watched as his father gently cut down the rope, and pulled it from his mother's neck; the skin underneath was black and blue.
She was dead.
Magnus's dad looked up, his eyes red. They made eye contact, and Magnus cowered as his dad gingerly laid down his mother and approached.
"You filthy spawn of the Devil!" he screamed, bringing his boot to Magnus's side. Magnus whimpered as he heard a crack. The beating continued until Magnus was bloody and black, when his father left the barn, carrying his deceased wife away. Magnus sobbed silently until he lost consciousness, floating in the nothingness of pain and unbearable grief.
But he's 32 and invincible
With everything he is based on principle
He never had a truly happy moment in his life
He didn't want the kids and he didn't want his wife
Jonathan stared at his father coldly, masking his feelings as he had been taught to. Pulling his black shirt over his head, he turned around and exposed his back to Valentine. Men did not show pain, he reminded himself. The whip cracked on his back, reopening old sores. Men do not show pain. Again and again the whip was brought down on him, and again and again Jonathan refused to cry out in pain.
Not until Jonathan was bloody and shaking did Valentine stop. He was proud, Jonathan could tell, that his son had not broken under pain. "You did well," said Valentine, retreating to his house. Jonathan sat down on the soft grass outside, and cringed as he realized he was sitting in his own blood. He had nearly cried out, had nearly shown how much it hurt, and he was scared that next time he would loose it. He couldn't loose it, couldn't! All of Valentine's plans for him depended on his strength. He had to see his mother again, had to talk to her, to fight her. How dare she leave him? How dare she! She had to pay, for.. for everything. Especially for leaving him.
He sighed and rested his head in his hands, feeling his blood trickle down his back. She had to pay for breaking his heart.
We're wasted, no no no
We're all wasted
We're wasted, no no
We're all wasted
We're wasted
We're all wasted
We're all wasted, no no
We're all wasted
Luke stared at Valentine as he pressed a knife into his hand. "I'm sorry, Lucian, but it has to be this way. I cannot bring myself to kill you for the friendship we once shared, but it would do you good to end your life yourself. I am sorry."
Luke watched sadly as Valentine walked away. He was a monster now, supposed to kill himself. He had to kill himself, didn't he? Bringing his knife up to his neck, Luke closed his eyes.
No! He couldn't! He was not a monster. Suicide was immensely frowned upon the Shadowhunter community, and although he was no longer a Shadowhunter, he would not drop below their standards any more than he already had.
Yelling in frustration and sadness, Luke pocketed the knife and took off running. Nightfall was approaching and Luke knew that the moon would be out soon, so after running a mile or so, he stopped and waited.
The moon appeared like something out of a horror film; it was a full circle, and it seemed to call his name, chilling Luke to the bone. He shuddered in apprehension of what was to come as he Changed, the pain and the confusion was almost unbearable. He flung himself into a tree, perhaps he could knock himself out, but wound up crumpled against the large and tangled roots. He gasped in pain; he had hit the tree harder than he had meant to, and laid there in silence trying to catch his breath before he Changed.
He didn't ask for this, he didn't want to be a Werewolf!
Luke tasted his salty tears before he realized he was crying for what he now knew he would never have.
He knew that Jocelyn would never love him.
23 now got his life in his hands
He's looking all around and he doesn't understand
'Cause life's too busy, things get in the way
We all feel alone every single day
Isabelle stared at Maia; what was she doing here, hugging her boyfriend? Pushing through the crowd, Isabelle ran up to Simon.
"What.. what are you doing, Simon?" she asked, the hurt plain in her voice. Maia smiled at Isabelle.
"What do you mean? He's my boyfriend," she laughed, snuggling in closer to Simon, whose eyes had tripled in size.
"He was my boyfriend too," Isabelle managed. She turned to Simon. "Simon, how could you? I- I loved you!"
Not waiting for a response, Isabelle rushed out of the club, ignoring Maia's furious yells behind her, and ran all the way to the Institute. She flopped on her bed, sobbing.. how could he? Simon, funny, geeky Simon, had cheated on her! She buried her head in her covers. Her mom was right. She could never trust men; they always would break your heart. She had to be alone.
And I'm 18 couldn't wait to move out
It's been 5 years and now I'm starting to doubt...
Whether all my dreams are just aimless stares
Looking off to someplace that isn't there
Maia walked along the dark street, wanting to get home quickly; this part of the town was creepy at night. She heard footsteps behind her, and whirled around quickly. A dark shape was moving toward her, quickly. Maia gasped as the object hit her at full forced, scratched her, bit her. She could feel the blood trailing down her arm, and she looked in fear at the creature before her.
It was a boy, looking strangely.. wolfish.
"You'll always be mine," said the boy. He looked familiar, and Maia finally realized that her ex-boyfriend, Jordan, was standing before her. She screamed, shaking, knowing that it couldn't be true. Werewolves were only a child's tale, she knew, but she couldn't deny that her ex had pointy ears and was a bit too hairy to be completely human.
"I thought you loved me!" she screeched after him, but only the yellow glint of a wolf's eyes told her that her message had been heard.
When I'm 32 will I be miserable?
With everything around based on principle
Will I have a clue, oh wouldn't it be nice
To never be alone in this wasted life
Alec sat gingerly down on the couch next to his Warlock. Magnus had been crying, Alec could tell, because his mascara was smeared and his eyeliner smudged.
"I'm sorry, Mag," he whispered.
Magnus sighed. "I know, love. I forgive you."
"Magnus?"
"Mhmm?"
"I love you. I may make mistakes sometimes, but I really do. You are my everything."
Magnus snuggled in closer to the Shadowhunter. "I know," he breathed.
At that moment Alec was happy. As long as he was in his Warlock's arms, he knew he would never be alone.
We're wasted, no no no
We're all wasted
We're wasted, no no
We're all wasted
We're wasted
We're all wasted
We're all wasted, no no
We're all wasted
Don't waste your life! Again, R&R! Love you all lolz :3