*Taps mic* Hello? Is this thing still on?

Hello my lovelies, welcome to my new story The Detour. This is something I've been wanting to write for a long time, and I'm happy that I get to finally share it with you all. If you're looking for an update on me, I am now 19 years old and taking a gap year from college, and of course writing is still my passion. Now, if you're wondering what you'll be getting into with this story, just know that it is definitely different from Protecting Jace. Though don't worry, it will be just as intense, emotional, and funny. This will be another Jace and Clary you will fall in love with. So, without further ado, here's The Detour.

Also, special thanks to my lovely beta and friend

**Trigger Warning: abuse**

Disclaimer: All TMI characters belong to Cassandra Clare :)

The first time Clary's father hit her, she was fifteen years old. It was a few months after her mother passed away from cancer, and they'd both been feeling the loss of her. While Clary drowned her sorrows in music and dance, her father drowned himself in alcohol.

Now, Valentine Morgenstern was never a man of complete sobriety, but it had only seemed to get worse with her mother's death. Clary couldn't remember much from that day, but what she did remember had been ingrained in her mind forever.

She'd just gotten home from dance practice and the moment she walked through the door, the stench of alcohol assaulted her. Sadly, it was par for the course in their house lately. Knowing exactly where he'd be, Clary dropped her bags by the door and made her way into the living room.

There she saw what she did almost every day: her father sitting on the couch watching TV, crushed up cans of beer surrounding him. He was cursing under his breath as some sportscaster made remarks about about a recent football game.

Something in Clary snapped in that moment. She had no idea what made that day different than any other, but she'd met her end. This was her breaking point.

Stomping over to her father, she snatched the remote off the coffee table and turned the TV off. Valentine made a sound of frustration and slammed the beer he was drinking onto that same table, staggering to his feet to tower over her. Clary took him in. His wrinkled clothes, bloodshot eyes, his protruding belly. He looked nothing like the man she called her father for the past fifteen years, and she was done pretending that what he was doing to himself was okay.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he slurred.

Tossing the remote aside, Clary took a step towards him. "Me? Dad, look at yourself. You're a mess."

"I'm fine."

"No you're not," she said, her voice rising. "This place is a mess! There's no food in the fridge, bills are piling up, there's damage everywhere, and you don't even seem to care!"

A silent warning crossed Valentine's features. "You lower your voice when you're talking to me, Clarissa."

Blinded by her anger, Clary refused to heed his warning. Which, looking back, was one of the worst mistakes she could have made that night. But in the moment, she didn't care about anything other than getting her point across.

"No. I am sick and tired of picking up all the slack around here. I am fifteen years old, Dad. Fifteen! The only thing I should be worried about right now is school and my dance classes, but here I am, taking care of you and trying to make sure that everything in our lives doesn't fall apart." Her hands were moving wildly and her breathing had become erratic. This was the first time she'd ever spoken to her father this way, but she couldn't stop. "At this rate, we'll be out on the street in no time. Is that what you want?" She paused. "Do you think that's what Mom would want?"

At the mention of her, his eyes turned pitch black. "You do not speak of her in this house!" he roared.

Clary flinched at the volume of his voice, but still, she didn't stop. "You know what I think? I think she would be disappointed by the man you've become. Actually, not even disappointed, she'd be absolutely disgusted by you. I bet that she's rolling over in her grave right this sec—"

Then it happened. At first it didn't even register. All she felt was the stinging sensation on her right cheek and the tears suddenly welling in her eyes. He'd began yelling at her but all she heard was white noise. The shock of what just happened was nothing compared to the searing pain once it finally registered.

He'd hit her. Her father hit her.

Her ears were still ringing once he stopped yelling obscenities at her and lowered his voice to a terrifying whisper. "Listen now and listen well, Clarissa. If you ever speak to me like that again—if you ever speak of her again—I will make you wish that you'd never come into this world. Understood?"

More afraid than she'd ever been in her life, all Clary could do was nod. She didn't even recognize the man in front of her, but after seeing what he was capable of, she didn't dare utter a single word. Tears were pouring down her cheeks and she was clutching her face in agony, but Valentine's expression stayed completely devoid of emotion. And when she looked down, she could already see the bruises forming on his knuckles from the backhanded slap he delivered.

That was when she knew. The man she'd once known as her father was gone. Valentine was no longer a man. He was a monster.

Picking up his discarded beer, he flopped back onto the couch and took a large gulp. "Now turn the TV back on and clean up this fucking mess," he barked.

All of the fire and confidence in her body that made her stand up to him in the first place had left her within seconds. Her body trembled in fear as she leaned down to pick up the remote and switched the TV back on. Then, as quietly as she could, she began picking up empty beer bottles and other garbage spread out among them.

Clary's body was moving on autopilot, her mind replaying the events of what happened over and over in her mind. She prayed that any moment from now she would wake up in her bed and realize that this was all a horrible nightmare. But deep down Clary knew everything that happened that night had been real, and there was no turning back from it.

For the next hour she cleaned that house until it was spotless, trying her best to keep her distance from her father, who'd gone back to being completely unfazed. Only when he was satisfied with her work did he let her go.

Scrambling to her room, Clary didn't even bother taking off her clothes before climbing into her bed and wrapping herself in her comforter. It did nothing to soothe her pain and for the first time that night she allowed herself to truly cry. Ugly sobs wracked her body as she curled into herself. She felt completely helpless. She didn't know how she'd be able to face him without being frozen in fear from here on out.

Clary never imagined that her life would turn out this way. Of course she knew her father had a temper and she'd heard her parents argue plenty of times, but she somehow convinced herself that things would get better.

God, if only she knew how far from the truth that really was.

And if Clary thought she'd be able to avoid further abuse by being extremely careful, she was oh-so-wrong. In fact, this was only the beginning. But as she cried all the tears she could cry that night, she vowed to herself—and to her mom—that this was not going to be the end of her.

What did you think?

Love it? Hate it?

Let me know!

A/N: A pretty depressing start for Clary, I know, but she will find her escape soon (aka Jace). Also as a courtesy, I will be including trigger warnings when they are necessary, though there will not be many. And, this being a new story and all, we need a new tradition for the end of chapters. PJ had chapter questions, The Detour will have chapter facts to keep you guys on your toes. So, here's the chapter fact,

Fun fact: Bees don't have lungs