Hey guys, I'm here with another story. This time it's not a fanfic, well sorta. I have OC's in here based off the The Mortal Instruments series. This is my take on the next generation of shadowhunters. Yay, my first non-songfic!
If you are coming to read this just to hate on it because for some reason, please push the back button. I will not take kindly to it, after all, I took the time to write this.
*WARNING* This contains hurtful comments, depression and anxiety, abuse MAJOR OOC-NESS (yes, it's a new word XD) mentions of cutting and suicide (Soon), cursing, and homophobia (soon). If you are not comfortable or sensitive to these topics, PLEASE DO NOT READ!
*Disclaimer* I do not own TMI, TID, or LM.
Groaning, I rolled over. My face getting squished against the cold stone floor. "Ow." I was hurting all over, but of course that's normal, I'm a shadowhunter after all. Unlike the other shadowhunters, I wasn't afraid to admit I was in pain. I'm different like that. It throws people off, especially since I am the son of the Herondales. I'm Clary and Jace's son, so I've got a lot of pressure on me to be just like them. Some might say that I have one of the easiest childhoods because of who my parents are but the truth is, Jace have turned REALLY mean. Even worse than Maryse and Robert Lightwood, and that's saying something. (*Cough* Homophobe Robert *Cough*)
My name is Damian Herondale. I know, strange name considering being a shadowhunter and all, but Uncle Simon always tells me that Mother wouldn't give the name up, and that it comes from some weird Mundane comic book thing. (Batman. XD)
But anyway, Father is abusive to me. Mother doesn't know about it of course, Father would never let her see this side of him. Acting just like his adopted father, Valentine. In the times I tried to tell Uncle Alec or Aunt Izzy, they just laughed and said I was making things up and that Jace would never do anything like that. Uncle Magnus just said that same thing. Once I tried to tell Mother, but I learned my lesson that night about making things up. Father came in right as I was telling Mother and he convinced Mother that I was lying, I got my punishment that night. That was one of the worst beatings I have ever gotten.
The only one who believes me is my best friend Ryan Embercross and well, Uncle Simon claims that he believes me, but I don't really think he does. I still love him all the same, he's my favorite relative but don't tell Aunt Izzy that, she'd force me to eat her food.
Ryan lives here, in the Institute. The New York one of course. Mother and Father would probably never move out of this place, too many memories, they said. I'm fine with it of course, no way in hell would I want to leave Ryan. We need each other, and if I'm being honest, I really really want to become his Parabatai but I don't have the courage to ask him.
I'm the shy one in our little group. When you're dividing Ryan and I into the categories of introverts, ambiverts, and extraverts, I'm an introvert and Ryan is an extravert.
He's always bouncing around, trying to get me to do something against the rules, and could never focus on anything for more than 5 seconds. I don't mind breaking the rules if they're unjust, - unlike Alec, who everyone keep comparing me to- just not when there is no need to break them. I'm quiet and perversed, always liking my books more than human beings, but Ryan is slowly helping me to interact with people more. He really is a swell guy, even if he just comes off as careless and useless because he can't focus. He has ADD and ADHD.
As much as we sound like copies of Father and Uncle Alec, we couldn't be more different. Father used to steal all the attention from Uncle Alec and never really payed attention to him, at least, that's what Uncle Simon told me, but Ryan never steals the spotlight unless he knows I'm fine with it. He takes the spotlight until there is a chance to slip out, and in a blink of an eye, we're gone. Sometimes when the stress gets so much or a flashback of my beatings comes back, I have a panic attack, that's usually why I don't like talking to people, especially adults. Actually not sometimes, I get them a lot, for a million reasons. Not being good enough, being questioned, and loads more. I hate to be that weak, but Ryan always assures me, that I'm perfectly fine the way I am and I'm already strong enough dealing with these things. I suffer from Depression and Anxiety and the only one who I trust enough to tell is Ryan of course. I would tell Uncle Simon, but then he would tell Mother and I can't have that. When I have a panic attack, Ryan either drags me to the attic or one of our rooms. Both have a lock, surprisingly.
Fin, part 1.