A/N: Hey guys! This might look simillar because this is just A Pound of Feathers done. It's going to have most of the same outcome as the other one, but this one will be better. I promise. Here's an extended summary.
"Broken love is the most dangerous love. It will slice you open with every touch." Isabelle is done with life. She hates the world, hates her parents, and especially hates any notion of love. Love did shatter her heart into a million pieces. The new school year means a new Isabelle. She promises herself that she will break the heart of all the boys that broke hers. And above all, she promises that she will never love. Sadly, fate has it's own course when she's assigned to a boy for a project. A boy that is so different than all of the other assholes she's fallen for. But this boy's heart has already been stolen, and Isabelle knows this won't end well... especially with the bet that hanging over her head.
"I absolutely love my best friend. So much. Maybe too much." Simon loves Clary. They've been friends for as long as he's been able to walk and talk and breathe. He knows it's stupid to love her, they would never work out. But since she's recently moved to New York City and is going to his school, he thinks he has a chance. Until Clary meets Jace, the ass who runs the school. Simon just knows that he'll break his best friends heart, but Clary won't listen. Simon is forced to watch his love fall head over heals for someone else, all while fending off the guilt of knowing his secret. A secret that could rip apart his whole world...
"You are not a hundred scattered pieces, blowing farther and farther away from each other." Clary is lost. Since she has moved from her small town of upstate New York to the bustling city, she doesn't know who to trust. Her mother is still on the meds from when her father left her, her best friend is acting strangely, and her brother is ignoring her completely. The only thing that is truly there for her is food. She indulges and binges constantly, and her health is taking the toll. The doctor suggests putting her on anxiety pills, but they don't get it. No one gets it, except Jace. As Jace begins to show Clary the wild side of New York, she can feel everything clicking into place. Until a huge accident crashes down upon her family, and Clary is pulled into the mess...
Part One: Fall (in which a girl yearns for love)
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Isabelle Sophia Lightwood: A girl with stiletto heels that crush hearts, dresses that barely cover her ass, and a vulnerable, soft heart.
Isabelle stared into the mirror. Her eyes were puffy, her mascara was running, her once bright red lipstick was smudged and smeared, and her knuckles clutched the edge of the counter. Her heels lay abandoded in the doorway, tossed aside when she realized that her six inch boots can't save her now.
She dug into her makeup bag, rummaging around to find something, anything, that would stop the dull pain. Not the one that softly throbbed in her head from the booze. But the one that pulsed from her heart.
Isabelle threw out cremes and powders onto the counter, and they grew into a steady pile. Under eye cremes, eye-shadow pallets, lip tints, and liquid liners were no good to stop pain. Not even Advil could cure her aches. The makeup could only cover the pain and scars in a coating of foundation. It could only mask the puffy eyes with a creme. It could only distract others' eyes from her red eyes with a bright pink lip.
The makeup that covered the bathroom counter couldn't fix the problem; it could only hide it. And Isabelle was tired of hiding.
She was tired of fighting, tired of searching, tired of pretending, tired of living, tired of drowning her fears in drugs and alcohol. She was tired of the sleepless nights and the disproving parents and the drunken dancing. She was done with the whispers that called her a slut, whore, bitch, hellion, gold-digger, and so much worse. She just wanted it to all stop. Stop living this stupid, endless life, and stop the judgmental hypocrites who think they're "so much better." She just wanted to scream.
But she couldn't scream because it would wake her parents and her "oh-so-perfect" brother. Instead, she picked up her $200 foundation and hurled it at the mirror. It harmlessly bounced off and landed with a thud onto the carpet. Not even the bottle cracked.
Even the mirror restricted her feelings. She clenched her fists and stalks off into her room, leaving the makeup on the counter.