Memories sting.
He was my only friend. I was bullied all through elementary school; the kids would smother me in lunch condiments, call my name only to laugh when I responded, make up rumors that weren't true. But it all stopped when he became my guardian.
Jace was popular. He had a thousand friends, more talent than anyone in the school combined, and the most gorgeous looks that one could wish for. The girls wanted to be his girlfriend, the guys wanted to be his best friend. But he chose me.
With a simple "hello," the bullying was over. Gone. Truly and completely vanished. Because he was there. Jace and his siblings, Alec and Izzy, took me in simply because there was no one else, or because I was pathetic, I wouldn't know. All I know is that he was mine.
All through middle school, Jace was my best friend. And because of that, I didn't need any more friends. I didn't need anyone to protect me. I had me and I had him and that was all there was. It was unexplainable, unimaginable, safety. Joy. Comfort. Simplicity. Love.
Neither of us really started to have feelings for each other until freshmen year of high school. And that was all right. We were both afraid that making our relationship something more would be risky, that we might lose the friendship. So we put it off. But our feelings simply couldn't be bothered.
He would call me "his girl," "mine," or "baby." It didn't matter what he called me. It mattered how he looked at me. How he talked to me. How he talked of me. How he touched me. Jace was…Jace.
Until Halloween.
I was dressed as Cinderella. Nearly the whole school was packed into the Lightwood's house. People were jumping off railings, flying from chandeliers, dumping cups of God knows what over other people's heads. It wasn't my scene. But because Jace was there, I let it be.
I was sitting in a corner holding a cup of something I would never, ever drink when I blinding flash of light silenced the heaving crowd. Nobody moved. Then multiple crashes sounded at the same time and the party erupted into chaos. Suddenly I was being grabbed by the arm and hauled up countless flights of stairs.
I could tell by the frightfully tight grip of his hands that Jace was the one leading me, so I followed him without hesitation. Jace led me up to the roof where I turned to stare at him expectantly.
"What's happening?" I shrieked.
Jace shook his head. He didn't know. But I knew him. I knew that he did know. And he did. Jace took my hand, gentler this time, and took me over to the side of the roof. Below, the crowd was teeming. I stepped back immediately, terrified.
"Come on," Jace said, coaxing me back towards the edge. "You have to jump, Clary," he told me quietly.
"No," I whispered and the tears spilled over, running down my face. "No, I don't want to. I'm scared."
"You'll be fine."
"But what about you?" I protested, and I could see something in his eyes.
"If you survive the fall, fantastic. If not, sucks for you." His words hit me like a very, very sharp knife.
"What?!" I screeched. I didn't comprehend what he was telling me. I couldn't.
"I don't care if you live or die, Clary. Nobody does. In fact, most people have wanted you to just "disappear" the moment you were born. Nobody cares about you, Clarissa. Not even me. I do not care about you. Now jump," Jace didn't give me a chance to say something back to him. He pushed me forward, giving me no chance other then to spring upward and then fall. The ground's impact left me with painful bruises, temporary fractures, and permanent scars, of the emotional, mental, and physical kind.
I was knocked unconscious. The only thing I found when I woke was an empty yard, a burnt down mansion, and a note.
The note basically told me every terrible thing about myself. I was close to sobbing by the time I finished reading it. But still, I went on. And what I found at the bottom…
"All my love, Jace."
That was the last day I ever saw him. I told myself it would be the last say I ever thought of him, too, of how much I loved him. How I missed him. How I wished it was all fake.
But it wasn't. And I still have the scars to prove it.