[A/N: Hello! Thanks for clicking this. This is my first fanfic I've posted on here. ^w^ I hope it turns out well; this took a good solid week to write and edit. I apologize if anything is misspelled or doesn't make sense; I had a horrid haiku with this first chapter a while back. I just finished it up tonight and I don't have the energy or patience to go back and edit it once again.
Anyways! Onto the actual story. I may have put a little too much detail in this first chapter, and if I did, I apologize. I'll get the hang of it if I decide to keep writing and you guys turn out to like it. Also! I'm including Infernal Devices characters because I have incorporations, and because I feel like Jem is the one that can most relate to me-against-the-world little Alec. Oh, and I might change the title later to fit the story when I have more of it. I just kind of made something up. xD
Rated M for strong use of language, later sexual content, later violence, and depressed turmoil. It's a little early to be thinking about this, but I promise I'll give at least one lemon or lime later on. We gotta get some storyline in there first, though. xD Okay! I think that's all that really needs to be said for now, and please read and enjoy. uwu
- Kat
Disclaimer: All character rights and TMI belong to Cassie Clare. I just own the plot and stuff. ; ;]
"There's a loneliness that only exists in one's mind. The loneliest moment in someone's life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is blink."
―F. Scott Fitzgerald
The silence was unbearable. There was an awkward thickness to the atmosphere in the white Sedan, a stuffy burden looming over the quiet people that spaciously littered the clean car. Soft drops of rain pattered against the car's frame as the quaint vehicle sped down the slick road, globs of green jutting past on the other side of the blurry windows.
My shallow gaze traced over the gluttonous trails that snaked down the clear pane, the usually sharp world beyond a mere smudge. My vision focused on the outline of the shapes, which was a thick black. I blinked and thought how strange it was that the curving outlines of opaque water drops could be as black as night. It fondly reminded me of how equal light and dark were, but also how much they clashed. My mood dampened a little bit and I found myself dropping my gaze away from the window to the pristine, tan floorboard. A part of me wished that a stain of the sorts plagued the fuzzy surface below my feet, so I could feel that something imperfect existed in this small, suffocating space.
Up in the driver's seat sat my uptight father, if I could even call him that. The title made my expression sour. Robert Lightwood, the man who used to be the father of a boy named Alec. That is, until he found out his son was homosexual. Then it was suddenly like I didn't exist anymore. After I'd finally gained enough courage, or for more modern terms, grew a pair, I told my parents that I was gay. At first, everything seemed okay. I later perceived that was simply their looks of shock. After that realization, both of my so called 'parents' suddenly cut off all their interaction with me whatsoever, acting as if I didn't even exist. I wasn't sure if that was an initial reaction or if they did it purposefully to me. Perhaps they hoped that in that time frame I might just conveniently change sexualities; yet that had to be one of my lowest points. In that span, somehow, the kids at school also found out and that's when the verbal and physical abuse began. I actually suspect my mom- I partly shudder at the term- told one of her 'so-called' friends about it, then that lady told her kid; the kid went to school with me and, well, you can assume what happened after that.
I recall trying to defend myself the first few times I was cornered, using some of the techniques I'd acquired in tae-kwon-do class, but they had a miniscule effect. The seven years of training I'd suffered though, and the fact I was a second degree black belt seemed to go down the drain in each and every one of those moments. The heavy truth was that, although they were true self-defense moves, you had to have more strength mentally and physically than the oncoming attacker. You had to be fast, you had to act, not think. There was no room for hesitation. If you hesitated, you'd better have some brute strength backing you up to help you get out of there. Even worse, what if the provoker had faithful lackeys backing him up? Now, you not only had to be fast getting away from him, but also all the rest. It finally seemed to sink in that I simply could not escape it. I couldn't fight back. I could only defend myself for so long. I couldn't run if they stood in my way. The image of the dark corner they used to shove me in flashed across my mind, their bulky bodies clustering towards me, blocking out the view of the world. The ugly lines of their visages as they became claustrophobically enclosing…
I quickly popped two tiny black ear buds in my ears, not wanting to further explore the recent past. The thought made me want to spill up my guts. My midsection began to churn with nerve, water starting to form a ring around the outer edges of my eyes. No, I would not cry, not where Robert could see. Quickly turning on some loud, distracting tune, I leaned up against the chilly window and pulled my feet up beside me, curling up. My head lounged on the thin sill beside me and I just caught the straining of Robert's white knuckles against the steering wheel before I allowed my eyelids to slide closed. I squeezed them tight to let what was already there trickle down my pale cheeks, and block out the rest of it. Quickly running the back of my hand over my face, I soaked up the momentary tears and let my eyelids relax with a sleepy demeanor. A breathy sigh escaped my lips and fogged up part of the icy window as I drowsily let them slide open again, down to the thick brochure that protruded from the duffle near my legs on the other end of the backseat. A shudder slunk up my spine as the top of the reflective paper glared back at me, displaying the title - 'Idris Youth Summer Boot Camp for Troubled and Juvenile Teenagers.' I quickly shut my eyes once more and sunk farther down against the inside of the car door.
Eventually, my parents had figured that shipping me off for the summer would somehow wreak me of my sexual preferences. Oh, yeah. Sending me off to the middle of nowhere, where I'll be surrounded by temperature wise hot, sweaty, shirtless guys was totally going to make me straight. That's what I assumed boot camp would consist of, anyways. That was, unless they somehow mixed us together with the girls, though I highly doubted it. Being surrounded by tough girls probably would have been exciting for most straight boys my age. Though, even if we were, I would still be straining to keep my eyes off of the other boys. I couldn't help it; I couldn't just make the gay go away. Robert seemed to think that homosexuality was some sort of disease that could be cured. He seemed to also believe that I had somehow turned gay. My mother, Maryse, on the other hand, actually made it appear that it was something she could possibly accept. After the whole 'being treated as if Alec didn't exist' ordeal, she actually spoke to me like she was my mother again. I do admit it was in a nervous, awkward kind of way, but at least she was trying. I knew before I told them that it would probably take a little getting used to, therefore I decided I could accept the time she took to let it settle in. That is, until she betrayed me for my father's tyrannical views on the situation. That's when all her maternal imagery slacked off and I realized I was hypothetically parentless.
I can painfully remember the night I overheard Robert and Maryse arguing about what to do as if they were the only two doctors in Europe when the plague broke out. I was lying in bed, frightened and sore from a few fresh bruises along the right side of my torso. Do you know how horrible it is to be beaten up just because you sexually prefer the same gender? It's pretty bad, if you asked me. When I heard how much dominance and power Robert pushed into his tone towards Maryse, however, it made me angry. It absolutely pissed me off how he talked to her that way, about me no less. Luckily for my satisfaction, my mom was an independent soul who retaliated back with her own forceful vocabulary. I do admit it left me impressed. I always knew they had a sort of rift in their relationship. I didn't know how soon it was coming, but I was foreseeing a divorce in their future. Unfortunately, though, most of the bitterness in each of their tones was just a magnification of their own broken bonds, making it seem like my surfacing was the actual reason behind all the punch in their voices.
When getting to the part of what should be done about it, I lost all respect for Maryse when she agreed to send me off to a horrible place with people I didn't know and things I didn't want to do. A place I didn't need to be. A place meant for troubled teens. My image of the whole shebang wasn't exactly a pleasant one, either. Surrounded by juvenile delinquents all day and night for three months wasn't exactly my idea of a good summer. Well, any summer at all, for that matter. What was I - some bad luck kid out of a comedic children's movie? I was going to be a senior in high school. I didn't do drugs. I didn't drink. I didn't smoke. Granted, I did have a small case of depression and was a tad bit odd; I was not a troubled teen. I didn't belong with them. I belonged at home, with my brothers and sister. Well, if I had the choice now, I would have chosen to move out. I despised the heads of the household for treating their so-called 'son' the way they did. What happened to all the comforting "We love you no matter what."s and the "You can tell us anything."s? Yeah, tough love.
I didn't notice I'd started to doze off, since tainted thoughts of the night Maryse and Robert decided to send me to boot camp for the summer inked my mind. It was only when I suddenly felt a cold pressure on my upper arm that I returned to the awful reality of my life. A dull pain flexed out along the muscles of my taut bicep. A demanding, impatient voice rang in my ears as I tiredly opened my eyes and was met by Robert's scrunched up face. Luckily, I had gotten my mother's beautiful and slender looks, instead of my father's irrational ones. He growled in an irritated voice for me to get up, making me squint. Hastily, I sat up and realized that we were no longer moving, but idling. The rain outside had only become heavier, the quickened pace of the squeaky windshield wipers reminding me.
A sudden, fond memory of the word I used for the noisy wipers when I was five drifted through my mind. Windshipers. The thought nearly made me giggle, while the world around me once again vanished and my expression went blank. I began to day dream again, something I had a bad habit of. Robert's hand across my face quickly plucked me from the recesses of my mind. At first, my head was flung to the side and nearly rammed into the back of the passenger's seat. My jaw clenched on instinct, so any noises of pain wouldn't escape. Then it hung slack in surprise at what had just happened. Robert had hit me. When did he ever think it was okay to hit me? Slowly drawling my mouth shut, I turned and gave the other man a face that portrayed no emotion. He would not have the satisfaction of seeing me in pain from his own hand. Even though the inside of my body was in turmoil, I gave him a steady glare while the side of my cheek throbbed. A few strands of rage flared up for a moment, but simmered down for the time being as I caught the last part of his enraged dialogue.
"- and get the Hell out of my car!"
I glanced stiffly outside and figured we were at one of the drop off stations for the boot camp. Apparently, the kids would have to be taken to these locations, then, get bused to the camp from them. Having never experienced any of this, I wasn't sure if this was normal procedure or if they had some illegal things going on wherever they were taking us. My insides began to wilt. I quickly gathered the light duffel beside me into my arms, and scrambled out of the Sedan without a word to Robert whatsoever. I was instantly met by the chilling rain as it immediately soaked me. Meanwhile, Robert sped off before I could hardly get the door closed.
"Fuck you too." I muttered bitterly and shuddered as the icy pellets pierced my skin. Raising my free hand, I shielded above my eyes and squinted, peering around to try and find out where I was within the thick haze of rain. There was mud underneath my water-logged sneakers; probably because the road was dirt. I didn't see any pavement anywhere. But, there was some looming structure up ahead. Seeing nothing else but trees around, I cautiously stepped towards it. I soon made out that it was a small patio with a beat up, broken metal awning, housing about eleven other boys and a few girls with sour looks swarming across their mugs. The boys didn't look much friendlier, to tell you the truth. They all looked like they wanted to assault someone or vandalize something, which I'm sure for half of them that was true. Yet, it was only a guess. I probably didn't look any better. It was obvious none of us wanted to be here, though.
There was however, one lanky sort of guy standing away from the scattered bulk of the rest. He was turned away and had his head dipped low, looking at something in his hands. I couldn't see it though, for his body blocked the view. I presumed it was on purpose. It was probably something illegal or something he wasn't supposed to have, like drugs. Curiosity won me over, and I shifted uncomfortably under the glares of the other guys while scooting aside slightly. I quickly took the chance to move away and try to get a better look at what the guy had in his hand - a book. Was he really reading at a time like this? The thought baffled me, and I sucked in a breath when he turned and caught me staring. My gaze instantly averted for a minute, spotting that the others had lost interest in me. Now I felt pinpointed again. Trying to look tough, I quickly turned a gruff gaze back to him. The tough demeanor melted when I took in his features. The guy had stark white hair and a matching set of eyes. He had the faint traces of an epicanthic fold, making me wonder if he had any Asian in him. I hadn't realized he had pointedly asked me what was so interesting, but once again, I was off in lala land. I felt a warm sensation creep across my cheeks and sucked them in. My face flushed lightly out of embarrassment and I cleared a dry throat.
"What're you reading?" I asked lamely, nodding to his book, completely ignoring his question. He looked taken aback for a moment, before holding the cover outwards with a finger marking his place. The Tempest. Shakespeare, huh? I'd never gotten into Shakespearean much, it frankly bored me. I could never understand the whole iambic pentameter thing.
The boy let the book slide shut and stuffed it in his bag, giving me a sideways glance. Not really knowing what to say after, I just nodded and looked around, mostly letting my eyes drift down to the dirty cement beneath my feet. I could feel the presence of the other boy carefully move closer until he shyly held his hand out in greeting.
"I'm James. Everyone calls me Jem, though." He said quietly as I assessed his hand then looked him square in the eye politely. We were about the same height and that was saying something, considering how tall I was myself.
"Alec." Was all I said in return and weakly took his palm, shaking it slowly. I wasn't really much of a social butterfly, and other people made me nervous. Peering at Jem, I got a better look at his appearance now that we were head on. His hair had the slightest curl to it, framing his long face. It was the most intriguing shade of a silvery white, resembling the glistening scales of an albino koi fish. The hue of his irises closely matched the color. Captivated by his out-of-the-ordinary apparition, I suddenly blurted, "Is that your natural hair color?" He simply scoffed and dropped my hand.
"Of course not, it's dyed. And I'm wearing colored contacts." Raising the hand I just shook, he ran his fingers through his locks to emphasize. "My natural hair color is dark, as are my eyes." He added on with a rather depressed tone of voice. I frowned and looked away.
"Oh." Was all I could muster for the moment, before adding quietly that I'd never dyed my hair or worn contacts. My vision was a perfect 20/20, and my hair a natural ebony color. I never particularly saw the need to change my hair or waste money just to alter the hue of my eyes.
Jem raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a blaring noise outside the awning we all stood beneath. A filthy, run-down looking bus had lopped up to one side of the rectangular standpoint, whining with its awful horn. His mouth instantly shut and he floated closer to the back of the group faintly, nodding his head to indicate that I should follow. I hurriedly readjusted the strap to my bag and ghosted after him, standing in the very back of all the brutal looking teens. Save for Jem of course - he wasn't actually that bad looking and didn't have a permanent pissed off expression painted on. I raised my vision and followed the contours of his narrow shoulder blades, tracing over the prominent lines that his tight shirt showed off. I soon found my eyes swiveling down his back, which sculpted down to his curved dip. His lower back arched in a nice fashion towards his rear end…
A thick voice on a megaphone pulled me out of my reverie, making my head snap up as a muscled looking man with a buzzed white haircut stepped off the bus. Maybe he kept his hair like that to give to the effect of a boot-campy atmosphere. No matter, I sure as Hell would not cut my hair that way. A shudder passed through my body when I saw a few other burly men stepped out behind him and kind of circle us. This was it; there was no longer a way to escape. The white haired guy began to boom into the scratchy megaphone, explaining that our cellphones, piercings, pocket knives, electronics, jewelry and removable clothing pieces with metal or glass needed to come off and go in the Ziploc bags we were given. He proceeded to threaten us that we would be checked along with our bags afterwards, in case we were hiding something and if something was found, there would be severe consequences. The man began chiding that trust was a big issue in life and we needed to start learning it now. I rolled my eyes faintly and reluctantly dropped my phone and iPod in the bag on which I wrote my name. I zipped it up and placed it in the cardboard box nearby, nervous under a few people staring. One of the dark clad men from the formation around us came over and asked for my bag. I handed it to him and let him rifle around through my stuff, only finding a book, my toothbrush and paste, comb, shampoo, and simple sweater, jean, boxer, sock combinations. He picked up my book leisurely, looking at it pathetically. I thought he was about to toss it, but he just gave me a look and put it back. It made me partly content that they weren't as bad as the media portrayed. They only took things that could be used as possible weapons or to contact those outside the camp. When he plucked out my shampoo, I began to protest, but he growled faintly at me and threw it away in one of those trashcans attached to the ground. Maybe they had had an incident with poison in shampoo before or something. The man then proceeded to pat me down and was about to let me pass, but stopped me as I made a go to grab my belongings.
"That has to come off." He pointed out dully and motioned to the temporarily forgotten hunk of metal that adorned my ring finger. Instantly recognizing it, I opened my mouth and regretted the first words that tumbled out.
"I'm not taking that off." It was a low sort of mumble that flicked itself from my lips.
The man before me narrowed his eyes. I watched a muscle jump in his jaw.
"Look, boy, I'm giving you one more opportunity to take it off and put it in the bag." He hissed, a vein pulsating in his neck.
I wasn't going to take it off, and I wasn't going to let him take it. The silver plated ring that rested on my finger was the only material object I had left of my old home. Old referring to before all this mess happened. My sister, Isabelle, had given it to me when we were at out elementary school fair and she'd won it at a ring toss booth. I knew it was nothing special, just a small piece of cheap metal, but it had more sentiment that nearly any object I currently owned. I'd been to Hell and back with this ring, and right now, it was the only thing I had that brought back fond memories and soothing thoughts of my sister. She was the one that pulled me out of the brink of insanity; she had kept me in check when I thought I was losing it. If I lost this ring, the small ounce of hope I withheld would vanish. I'd feel completely and utterly abandoned.
I was not removing it.
And the man in front of me was not having it.
Faster than I'd expected from a burly guy, he stunned my arm temporarily with a jab to the inside of my elbow, distracting me. His hand slithered around mine and he whipped me around, pinning me in an arm lock against the bus. By now, we'd caught the attention of a few of the others, including Jem. He appeared to have a look of sympathetic pity in his discolored orbs, but I couldn't be sure, for the man holding me obscured my vision seconds later. Hot breath made the hair on the back of my neck stand, for the guy was uttering words I couldn't comprehend. The position he had me in was uncomfortably painful, and I strained when he forcefully yanked the ring off my finger. Instead of putting it in the bag, the thing sailed over my head and into the mud. I was shoved on the bus without being able to snatch up my duffel. It was probably in my best interest to just sit down and shut up.
A burning sensation clouded my vision, making me chomp down on my lower lip. No, I would not cry. I would not give these people the satisfaction, just like I would not give Robert the satisfaction. My teeth clamped down into the flesh until it bled the awful metallic taste of blood. It proved a good distraction from my own misfortune. A drop of crimson slid down and spattered onto my jeans, staining it.
I crawled into a seat in the middle of the bus, one that was disgustingly and poorly taped up. It stunk and I sank into the seat farther than I should have. Even though there were much more appealing seats, I wasn't going to sit any closer to the rear or front in case the frightening men crowded around either area. At a glance, no one seemed to have any problems outside after what had happened with me. I shrunk down in the seat and pushed my face into my hands. I was isolated. My body felt so… hollowed out. I was cold, chilled until a toasty presence heated up my left side.
Peeking out from between my fingers, it felt partly good to see Jem had chosen to sit next to me. He set his stuff in his lap and leant forward on it. He was all wet, again, but that didn't seem to change the thermal energy he emitted. Well, I was soaked too, for that matter. I couldn't see how he wasn't shivering, but I wasn't complaining. He maneuvered for a moment and produced my luggage from the walkway. I must've perked up a tad, because his expression changed to a happier one. I took my bag from him, passing over a silent look of gratitude. The other boy then slouched back in the chair and clutched his own stuff, sighing and closing his eyes for a moment. I noticed that his fingertips were a little dirty; whereas they had been clean earlier when he was reading. Odd. I watched him curiously, absently curling up around the duffel in my lap.
The awful screeching of the shutting bus doors made me wince and poke my head up above the seat top. Ahead, white haired man explained that we were to keep our traps shut on the ride over. Jem whispered out a test "Can you hear me?" and was content when none of the higher up noticed. The snowy haired boy quirked a smile on the side of his mouth and glanced over at me.
"I know, how can they hear with all the rain?" I murmured in a hushed tone what I was thinking and leaned forward, the top of my head digging into the seat in front of us. There was a faint putter outside, then the vehicle rumbled to life pitifully.
We didn't speak much after that on the long ride, but I was still grateful he had sat next to me. He gave off a good aura, but I still wasn't entirely sure about him. My phobia of interaction with others had me slightly withdrawn, but thankful that I wouldn't feel utterly alone at this place. The fact that he had the sincerity to grab my forgotten stuff for me said enough on its own right there. Jem seemed normal enough, for now at least. Despite his crazy looks. He was going to a troubled teens camp. But, that didn't mean he robbed a bank or something. His reason could be mild, or even nonsensical, like mine. Maybe James was gay too, yet I didn't question him about it.
I was vaguely aware when my body melted into the dented metal beside me, head bobbing on the icy glass of the dirty pane. My belongings eventually slid off my lap and onto the unsanitary floor. The grot outlining the window was so thick I could see my own reflection looking lazily back at me, dark cerulean eyes scouring over themselves. It was pretty nasty if you considered that the dirt was on the outside, where it was pelting down rain, and still not washing off. The fact that I could see myself rather than the enhanced green and grey of the dreary outside should have bothered me, but in fact, I was too distracted by my own reflection. I wasn't, as some ass at my school would say, checking myself out; it was actually the complete opposite. My stomach silently did a few flips and turned in on itself grudgingly, causing me to pull my legs up in a curled position to try and cull the turmoil and ache.
The ring was gone. I felt so abandoned. I felt so inferior. Jem had made me feel a moment's warmth, a grasping hand of affection and care, something that had knocked down the straw house I was trying to build around myself. I had been trying to get used to this new coldness that was served to me by my kin, and today I figured I finally began to use sticks. Even though it was only minor, just the small show of friendly, positive attention the odd boy beside me had displayed brought back crashing memories of wholeness and joy. Distant recollections of a non-shattered heart fluttering at praise. Scattered recalls of the cordial bursts plaguing nerves at tender gestures. I missed those feelings so much; I missed my family, the old one. Now, I felt like an empty oyster shell lying out on the beach. Used, empty, lifeless.
Waiting to be found.
It was then, staring at a misshapen, filthy reflection of myself that I realized why there were no stains on Robert's floorboards; why his car was always fresh and tidy.
I was the stain.
The words pierced my already aching gut, packing a hard force. I was the stain that soiled my parents' life; I was the stain on everything they owned; I was gay; I was putrid and not wanted. When someone vying for perfection sees a stain, they clean it. They get rid of it. That's exactly what Robert and Maryse were trying to do. Get rid of the stain. The gay stain.
I figured someone must've had their window open, because I suddenly became aware of wetness on my face and enclosed lap. Maybe that was just my hazy mind speaking, for I hardly even noticed it when I drifted off against the cold window, unable to hold it in any longer.
[A/N: Well? Was it okay? ono I hope so! I tried and I hope it pays off. Please don't hate me if it sucks. ^w^ So, I should clear a few things up real quick. I know it seems like Jem is kind of becoming close real quick, but it's going to help with plot development later on, and angsty Malec-y goodness. I'm not giving anything away though!
Oh, and you're probably asking where the heck our fabulous glamour boy is. I promise he'll come in the next chapter! w
Hmm, I'm gonna ask for 5 reviews until the next chap? I think that's a decent amount.
Please give me suggestions and things, because I don't have a beta yet and I need other opinions! Thank chu~
- Kat]