Clary's POV

"And there's nothing you can remember about your attacker?" The detective asked in disbelief. I didn't blame her; there was no possible way that I could forget that man. I shrugged, unable to lie to her face again. The detective took a deep breath and stood up, "Alright, if you remember anything else, I'm just a phone call away,"

I nodded and looked down as she left, nervously playing with my hands. Occasionally, I would glance over my shoulder, convinced someone was watching me.

I had been missing for two years; it was all over the news. Almost everyone knew my name and story. The press hadn't found out about me yet but, it was bound to happen soon.

Finally, I heard a loud gasp from the doorway. I looked up to see my mother in the doorway. She had changed, a lot. She looked about ten years older, her head full of greys and her eyes suck in with worry. She hadn't slept in a while, it was easy to tell. Her eyes were rapidly filling with tears as she ran over to me.

I stood up as she gathered me in her arms. I could feel her tears soaking my shoulder, her breathing uneven and jumpy, "I didn't believe them when they told me you were here," She gulped, "I thought they were playing some sick joke on me," I closed my eyes, relishing in her warmth, "I-I love you so-"

I cut her off, "I know," I told her; she stroked my hair and grasped at me, not believing I was real. After a couple of moments, I felt another pair of arms around me. I opened my eyes to see Luke and Jonathon, standing around me. Unable to hold back the sob at the sight of them, I finally felt tears stream down my face.

I didn't think I had any tears left.

We stood together for at least an hour, saying nothing and crying our eyes dry.

"This is the first time in a long time that I feel like I'm part of a family," Jonathon says finally, "Things were so wrong without you, Clare," He voice broke half way through his sentence, "I missed you so much."

"I know," I repeated, "I missed you all more than you can believe," I felt it hard to breath and I could feel my throat closing up as I spoke with so much passion.

"Let's get out of this wretched place and go home," Mum said, taking my hands firmly. They didn't know the meaning of a 'wretched place'. This was the best place I had been in for years.

Luke kept a hand on me at all times, steadying me. It was always like that with him, silent but, always there. A tear ran down my cheeks as I remembered.

Jonathon opened the door for me as though I was physically incapable. They tried to get us to fill out some forms but, one look from mum and they knew it wouldn't happen tonight. I would have killed to see any look from my mum just a couple hours ago.

Finally we got outside and we were drowned out by the press. Apparently, our story had leaked.

What felt like hundreds of people called my name. Pictures were taken and taping devices shoved in front of us. I froze my eyes wide; I could feel myself feel more and more trapped.

Trapped.

I bit my tongue to stop myself from letting out the scream and jumped when I felt Luke's hand on my shoulder. He was telling me we had to move but, I couldn't hear him. I forced my sluggish brain to process actions and managed to stagger forward. Jonathon steered us through them like a pro and got us safely into a car.

I realised that my family must have been putting up with this for a while now and felt my heart twist in sorrow. I had always imagined that their lives were so much easier than this, I was wrong.

There were more reporters at the house and I forced myself not to hyperventilate, this was nothing compared to him.

The door slammed shut behind us, loudly, when we entered but, my mind was elsewhere. I walked as though I were in a dream, tracing the wall lightly as I made my way through the house. Everything looked the same… and different. The couch was sunk in; I could tell that someone had spent several nights sitting on it. On the coffee table there was a paper that had my photo on the front page. I averted my eyes from it and ran my fingers down different counter tops and tables.

When I was done, I turned to see my family standing nervously in the centre of the room.

"I'm tired, can I go to sleep?" I asked them. It was partly true but, I knew that if I stayed with them I'd have to talk about him and what had happened. There was no way I was prepared for that.

"Of course, darling," Mum came forward and touched my cheek, lovingly, "We…we couldn't touch your room. It always been yours," I nodded and kissed and hugged them each good night.

"I love you all," I told them before making my way up the creaking stairs and into my room. I could practically hear them all holding their breaths as I left and that made me nervous. It was sinking in that nothing was going to go back to normal. They had accepted that I was dead.

How do you treat a dead person?

Sleep, as expected, was impossible. I tossed in my bed for an hour before I gave up. I chucked my covers off and slipped my feet off the bed and onto the floor. I considered exploring the things in my room but, I knew it would just make me feel depressed.

Instead, I opened my door. Maybe I could take a shower? I was shocked to see my brother standing outside my door.

"Jonathon!" I whispered, surprised, "You scared me!"

"I'm sorry," He blurted, "I woke up thinking I had dreamed that you had come back. It's happened before and I had to come and check." My heart thumped painfully for him. I had dreamt that I had got free before too, the crashing realisation that I hadn't is worse than anything he did to me…well almost.

My arms wound around him and I was glad to feel him so solid, it was better than my wildest fantasies. We were silent for a minute, appreciating each other mutually until finally Jonathon spoke.

"At some point, you're going to have to start answering our questions," Jonathon told me and I tensed in his arms, "The police report won't be enough, you know that right?"

"Questions?" I asked innocently, my voice was still raw and raspy and the doctors had said that might be permanent if I wasn't careful.

"Why are you so thin? Where have you got all these scars? Why can't you speak properly? What happened to you in that basement? Why-?" I flinched at each question and backed away from him.

"I'm not ready," I murmured.

"Did you know that mum and dad haven't slept in the same bed since you've gone missing?" I winced, of course I didn't. "Things haven't been…right since you've been gone. We've all suffered-tormented-because we don't know what's happened to you. That's not gonna change because you're safe now."

He took one more look at me and sprinted down the corridor. He stole anything I had left with him until I felt like the very chunks of my body had been ripped out.