A/N: Please R&R because this is pretty much my first story and I've been wanting to write something for a long time but couldn't figure out how to start it so any critique you have will be greatly appreciated! I'm kind of stuck on where this should go. Should I make it a one-shot or several chapters?

He rolls over, further entangling himself in his duvet covers. He thrashes about for several more minutes before finally giving up. He stands, stretches and wanders into the bathroom. Standing over the sink, he splashes water over his face, hoping that it would clear his restless mind. Pale fingers grasp the edges of the cold marble counter. He grips the edges so hard that his veins become visible and he stares, transfixed. His head slowly rises to stare at himself in the mirror. His silvery-blonde hair clings to his forehead from the sweat that drenches it. Shaking his head vigorously, he presses his palms to his temple. I can't take it anymore. The pressure at his temples increases as his breathing quickens and his resolve cracks. What the fuck is wrong with me? Glass breaks over the countertops, slivers of it embed themselves in his knuckles but it seems he doesn't notice. He's mesmerized by the black blood staining his knuckles and oozing down his arms. It's funny how the one thing that defines everyone is the one thing that makes them fear me. His thoughts cloud over as a single high-pitched voice breaks through his reverie. Her voice is panicked, alarmed and melodious. He lets his eyes shut as he voice pours over his being. She takes one look at him and then at the remains of the mirror before rushing over, scrambling to find a way to stop the bleeding. There she is ladies and gentlemen, the girl that consumes my every thought at every moment of every day. His sister, Clarissa Morgenstern.

I knew Sebastian had a high-pain tolerance, the scars on his person speak to that, but I don't think it was self-inflicted. When I get into the bathroom, his blood already coats the counters and there are several pieces of glass embedded into his knuckles. What was he thinking? I finally reach him, and he stands there, not at all alarmed at his current predicament. In fact, his eyes are closed as though he's hearing beautiful music and that's the only way to preserve it. I grab the nearest towel and in an effort to staunch the bleeding, I wrap his hand in it. In the time it took him to do this and for me to get into his room, I hadn't noticed the piece of glass he's holding in his hand. I pry it from his fingers and it falls to the floor, shattering into a million and one smaller pieces. I press the cloth even harder into his hand before I drag him over to the sink; turning on the water, I try to rinse the blood off. The cut isn't what's bothering me, it's the blackish fluid that's Sebastian's blood. Demon blood my mind whispers over and over again, Shut up. I shake my head and try to focus on the task at hand. After rinsing off the cut, I try to figure out what to do next. I leave his hands in the sink while rummaging around in hopes of finding a First Aid kit. Giving a relieved sigh, I grab one from under the sink and sit it atop the broken glass on the countertop. I risk a quick glance up at his face and I'm surprised to see that his eyes are open and following my every move. I don't understand why he would do this. I don't understand him at all. "Do you have a needle?" I ask him absentmindedly. He shakes his head, offering me no answer. I do my best to quell the rising anger in my throat. I don't even have to be helping this sorry asshole. He kidnapped me, keeping me here in this prison of an apartment. All because of what? Does he honestly think I'll forgive him for what he did to Luke? Or to Max? Little Max Lightwood. A couple of months ago the Shadowhunter capital, Idris, was invaded by none other than Jonathan, my brother. Using his own blood, he managed to take down the wards of the city, allowing for hundreds, if not thousands, of demons to cross into the Glass City. Jonathan, posing as the Lightwood's cousin, Sebastian Verlac, broke into the Lightwoods' home, looking for me. In this process, Max had wandered right into Jonathan's path, mistaking him for his cousin. Max asked one too many questions and Jonathan/Sebastian hit him and the force of the blow killed him. He was only 9. I hadn't realized that in remembering this, I stopped paying attention to what I was doing. Looking down, I see that my nails were digging into his hand with the force of the memory. Glancing up quickly, I see that his facial expression has become curious. "Go sit down, I'll be right there." I tell him. A few seconds later, he walks stiffly over to the edge of the tub and takes a seat. Following suit, I grab the kit and, after rummaging around in his medicine cabinet, a small needle. "Hand, now." He gives me his hands and I can't help but think, they don't look like a killer's hands. He has long fingers, like a pianist, that are rough and dry to the touch. The similarities he and Jace share are still unnerving. Jace. I feel my heart twinge. No use in thinking about him now. I clear my thoughts and proceed to start stitching his hand up.

I don't know how long we sit there in silence as I stitch up his cuts. I hardly notice it when he does speak. "Why don't use just use an iratze? It would go much quicker." It takes me a couple of seconds to process the question. "Because if you're going to act like a mundane, you might as well heal like one." I respond, irritated. It doesn't seem to faze him and he stares at me while I finish up the stitches. Taking a warm cloth, I gently rub it over the smaller, shallower cuts. "The next time you decide to self-harm, leave me out of it." And with that, I stand and leave the bathroom. As I turn to leave, I glance at Sebastian's face. The expression is one of extreme self-loathing and infinite loneliness. Karma's a bitch, ain't she?

I can't go back to sleep after dealing with Sebastian. Why did he look so sad? I mean, not sad as in as I just lost a puppy or saw a car accident, but the kind of sad achieved from spending every moment of your life alone. The kind of sad achieved by not fitting in with the people around you. The kind of sad achieved by being misunderstood. I bolt upright in the bed. Sebastian? Misunderstood? That doesn't seem right. But there was also that self-loathing look. It's like he's hating himself for being human. I frown. Everyone's always told him he wasn't so it wouldn't seem surprising if he finds that as a weakness. I roll my eyes. He finds everything a weakness. Even something remotely human. Which is what makes him so dangerous. I sigh and roll back over on my side and then it hits me. That's his biggest flaw. He's constantly battling his nature and because of that, there's a chink in his armor. Valentine had too little humanity but Sebastian has too much. This revelation really makes me think and re-think everything I thought I knew about my brother. He was just following orders from Valentine like he always did. He was the perfect son. So perfect he's flawed and broken just like the rest of us. I inhale deeply and lay there for a while. I get up and pace the tiny room trying to figure out what the hell all of it meant. How can he go from being the enemy to someone I pity so quickly?