"And he suddenly knew that if she killed herself, he would die. Maybe not immediately, maybe not with the same blinding rush of pain, but it would happen. You couldn't live for very long without a heart."

Jodi Picoult

Clary walked aimlessly around the streets of New York, Manhattan buzzing with flashing lights and the chatter of residents passing by. It was about two a.m. and stars still continued to glisten in the almost jet-black sky. A few moments waltzed by and Clary found herself in an alley, holding the trigger of a rusty pistol. She was crying. The tears feeling heavy on her pale skin. It was cold out today. The chills blowing past her green dress. She hadn't bothered to even grab a coat. It just didn't come to mind. Wiping her face as best as she could, Clary tugged her phone into her hand and clicked it on watching as it lit up with unread messages and missed calls. She swiped the screen again. She'd always wondered what the hotline would do if she called. Maybe persuade her to live. Typical.

The number started to ring and Clary was met with a young, deep voice. "This is the suicide hotline. How can I help you?"

She shook her head at the words. "I'm going away today."

There was a pause at the other end. "How are you going to go?"

Clary swung her feet wildly into the air, a bitter smile taking over her features. "A gun."

"Why?"

She flipped the gun into the air and caught it, its metal cold in her palms. "Because I feel like it."

The man on the other end laughed. It startled her. "Where are you?"

"An alley."

"Can I come?" He asked, his voice tinged with slight reluctance.

She pondered the question. She could use some company before going. "Yea, but don't bring your damn squad truck with you." Clary knew he would just try to convince her to stop. That life was worth living. He would probably even have an emergency ambulance on dial. She didn't mind though. She just wanted to sit and talk to a stranger for a while. That would do.

"Alright. I'll be there in ten." He told her when she gave him her directions. The stars had stopped gleaming. They were gone now and replaced with a blanket of blackness that even the New York atmosphere couldn't light up. It was beautiful. The emptiness. The simplicity. Nature at its finest was at night when everyone was asleep. When everyone kissed each other goodnight and read stories to small eager children.

"Are you there?" She heard a voice ask.

Clary didn't answer but the figure approached and she was somewhat surprised to find that the man was about her age. His cheeks were pink from the weather, his golden eyes blazing in the dark. He had touselled light brown hair swept to the right of his head. He was studying her too, she could tell.

"Don't you have to wear a uniform or something?" She asked, staring at his black attire.

His eyes widened as if he was baffled she was talking to him. "Uh, no. It's not mandatory considering the fact that the callers aren't supposed to see us."

Clary smiled. "So you broke the rules for me?" She looked at him and patted the spot beside her. She was sitting on the hood of a large garbage disposal, her bare feet swishing in the air. "That's cute."

He hopped onto the black seating before asking, "What's your name?"

"Clarissa Fairchild. You can call me Clary. Are you stalling for time before the ambulance is here?"

"I'm not gonna answer that." She laughed, her curls shaking along with her.

"I'm going to take that as a yes." He was staring at her. His lips were formed into a tight line.

"Why are you going to kiss yourself?"

"What's your name?" She countered.

"You didn't answer my question." He said, eyebrows raising.

Clary shrugged her shoulders carelessly. "How am I supposed to tell you my life story if I don't know your name?"

"It's Jace. Jace Wayland."

She smiled a little like it was some achievement. "Alright Jace. I want to kill myself because I hate life."

"Hate life?" He inquired, meeting her gaze steadily.

"Oh, it's beautiful." She started. The wind was blowing her hair into her face but she didn't bother shaking it away. "But I don't think I'm meant to be here."

"Do you love anyone?" His question must have snapped her from her reverie for she leaned closer to him and he could smell the faint scent of flowery perfume.

"I love many people."

"How would they feel if you killed yourself?" It seemed practiced. This conversation.

"Jace?"

"Yea?" He peered her way.

"Stop bullshitting me and talk to me like a friend and not some kind of therapist."

He laughed at that. A real laugh. Her chest filled with an unfamiliar feeling but she ignored it. She didn't want it.

"Are you happy Jace?"

He breathed slowly, sighing. "Not happy but comfortable."

She nodded her head before touching the gun on her lap, wide orbs staring at the object that would leave her in darkness. "You should go. And Jace, please don't get anyone here. Please." Her lips were crimson, full. Her hair a wild but stunning mess. Her cheeks a light pink. Her eyes endless pools of green.

He caught a light in her hands. His eyebrows knit. A phone. "Can I see it?" She appeared confused for a moment but then gave it to him without much hesitation. There were pictures. About a hundred. Each of them consisting of Clary. Most were her with a blond haired man, a smile seemingly permanent on her face.

"Who is this?"

She didn't need to look to know what he was talking about. "Sebastian. He's my boyfriend."

"Does he kn-"

She scoffed. "Obviously he doesn't. Don't be stupid."

Her answer left him skeptical. "Don't you love him?"

She was now bringing her fingers into the sky as if pinching the moon. "You're being so dense, Jace. Of course I love him. I'm just not happy."

She began to hum softly. "I never am."

And then they stayed that way. The air silent. Wordless. No sound but the kicking of Clary's feet. They looked like friends. The night getting darker and the wind less stronger. Mice scurried on the sidewalk below them. Taxis were heard beeping to their passengers.

"Can you kiss me?" She asked abruptly, turning her body to fully face him.

He looked like she asked him to kill her. It made her laugh, her ribs heaving. "Come on!" She exclaimed. "Can I get a kiss before I go?"

He stared at her and she followed suit, her face playful. Clary had to admit it. He had the looks. She placed her hands on his chest slowly and pressed a soft, slow kiss on his lips. He didn't respond until several long moments later. Her lips were so warm. So intoxicating. She cupped his cheeks with small hands and he felt the closeness of her in seconds. The fingers in his hair pulled away and he opened his eyes noticing her almost silent weeping. She looked up and gave him a sad smile, one he didn't want to return.

"Go." She told him, grasping the gun.

He was in disbelief. She was still going for it. He brought his cell out damning his stupidity for not doing it earlier. They were going to come. They had to. Hopping off the lid of the garbage can, he glanced back at her figure.

She was alluring.

Looks were deceiving. If he hadn't known her, he'd say she was a model. A rich model with everything she wanted. Long lashes framed her emerald eyes. Her hair was flounced in a way that made her look much younger. Her lips...oh, her lips. She met his stare and her lips curled into a mischevious grin despite the fact that she would be putting a gun down her throat. Despite the tears that had spilled on her cheeks. He wondered why she was crying.

"Jace?" She called one last time.

"Learn about me."

His eyes scanned her. "What do you-"

"You'll know." She winked and waved her hand for him to go. He didn't listen. He was aware of the ambulance behind him, the paramedics trying to get as close to her as possible. A young woman was trying to communicate with her saying words that fell on deaf ears. Yet all he noticed was the piercing shot that echoed in his ears. The bullet spat out and struck her without a miss of target. Blood plastered on the brick walls behind her and on her green dress. Her orbs were open for a few more seconds admiring the sky. And then her body stopped convulsing.

[x]

I guess I wrote about her. She was beautiful. The most beautiful girl I had ever lied my eyes on. Broken but radiant. I never really got to know her from that specific event but I didn't break my promise. I researched about her. She was a famous poet, I found. How did I miss it? Toured around the country too. She'd been a happy goer. Visited fans and signed their books in a good manner.

No one expected her to do it. She never showed her sadness. The closest ones to her didn't even know. I guess I was the only one. I'll stop here. Alec's calling me. I just want her to be happy up there. She seemed like she deserved to be. I think she's laughing in the night sky. Where she longed to be. Running with stars in her hair and sparkles on her dress. Dazzling. I'd better go. He's getting quite annoyed but I don't mind because I've done my job. "Alright, I'm coming!" I say and I run downstairs.

FIN

[This story is not meant to trigger any actions. It is simply made for enjoyment. All rights go to Clare. Thank you for your time.]

[If you have a story prompt or idea you'd like me to write, PM me]

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