This short story takes place in City of Glass. After Max dies. When Isabelle locks herself in her room...

I lie on the bed, face down in the pillow, letting the tears flow. I hear Alec's voice from outside the door.

"Izzy, can I come in?" he asks. I do not reply.

"Come on Iz. This is different than all the other times. We need to talk about this." He's used to me locking myself in my room. It's something I do to help me cool down and calm my nerves. Alec and I have this silent understanding, if I do not reply; I do not want to talk about it. He thinks this time is different though, but it isn't, I just need to be alone. I just need to think. So I remain silent.

After a few moments, I hear Alec's footsteps going away from my door. I feel bad for not letting him in. He's in pain too, I know. But it's nothing to the pain I'm feeling right now. It wasn't Alec's fault after all. But it was mine. I'm the reason Max is dead right now. I should have listened to him. I should have known. Instead I ignored all the signs and now I was without a little brother.

I would never be able to read him a bed time story again. I remember all the nights Jace, Alec and I would all go into Max's room and read him a story. We would take turns on who read each night. Jace, Alec and I enjoyed it as much as Max did. And now those nights filled with stories and laughs was just a memory.

He would never get the chance to become a shadowhunter. I would never be able to train him. He would never feel the joy that came with slaying a demon or the beauty of the runes on your skin. He never would have the chance to truly live.

And all this is my fault. I never listened to him. I was always pushing him away. I always told him that he was too young and that this was "grown up talk". I never even gave him a chance. I never even took what he said seriously. And now I couldn't even say I was sorry.

Everything about him was now a memory. With every hour that went by, every memory was slowly slipping away. I didn't want the memories to fade. I wanted to remember the best little brother how he was. The only thing I wanted to forget was when I saw him so helpless, when I saw his still body and knew there was nothing I could do to help him. I didn't want to remember him like that. I rather remember the little boy I read bed time stories to. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw the image of his still body lying on the ground surrounded by a pool of blood.

I wish it had been me instead of him. I was supposed to be dead right now too. That's what Sebastian had wanted. Max and I were supposed to die that night. And somehow I was still here and Max was not. How was that right? He was only a little boy. He had barely lived at all. He deserved to be alive right now. His life shouldn't have been taken away so easily.

But I am here and I am alive and I know what I have to do. I will kill Sebastian for what he has done. He will feel the pain that he has caused everyone that I love. Max would want that. I wasn't able to fight that night. I was caught off guard. But that won't happen again. Sebastian will pay for what he has done.

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. I sit up a bit and wipe the tears from my eyes. I'm about to yell to Alec to go away when I hear his voice. It's not Alec but instead Simon. I don't know why I do it but I feel my feet slowly moving and soon I'm at the door. I unlock it and open it and allow Simon to come in. Then I walk back to the bed and lay down. Simon follows and lies beside me. He doesn't say anything; he just lays there beside me. Before I know it my eyes are slowly beginning to close. No, I can't go to sleep I tell myself. If I sleep, I'll dream of him. And I don't know if I can handle it. My head slowly falls onto Simon's chest and I close my eyes. I feel Simon's hand sliding through my hair. I don't even have the energy to stop him. I am slowly drifting off now. Before sleep pulls me under, I hear Simon whisper, "It's all going to be alright. It wasn't your fault. And it never will be." My eyes fully close and surprisingly, I do not dream that night.