Hello there once again,

Here's the next chapter to my fanfic story. I will put a warning here as it has mature language within the chapter.

I've had some brilliant and helpful reviews which have helped me to focus the direction of the story. So thank you very much guys. I am still looking for more helpful reviews as the story goes on – as I've said before it has been a very long time since I tried to write a story, and the first time I've tried a fanfic! Some may not understand the direction it is taking but if you stay strapped in to your seats – I feel like it will be worth the ride.

As obvious as it may be, I will once again state that I own no rights to the wonderful Mortal Instruments. They belong to the magnificent Cassandra Clare.

I hope you enjoy my contribution.

She threw herself down on to the floor, and listened carefully to see if they were coming over to her location, but just then Church the Institute's cat slinked past her and yowled at the oncoming individual.

"Oh, it's you Church! What have you broken now, eh?" She could tell by the voice that it was Jace, and her heart started hammering against her ribs in fear. Once again, getting away from him required fast action, luckily being only 5ft 2" and small for it, Clarissa could move deftly, so she silently picked up her belongings and hid amongst the bushes of four o'clocks nearby, hoping the bright colours would mask her fiery-red hair.

But it didn't seem to matter either way, because Jace didn't come any closer to her hiding place, and from the loud purring she could assume it was because he was now busy giving all of his attention to the fat Russian-blue. She allowed herself to relax a little, knowing that she would now be stuck within the four o'clocks for an inevitable amount of time, and laid herself down amongst the roots and dirt.

Jace had coaxed Church to the rock pool so that he could perch on it's edge and continue to pet the grouchy beast more comfortably, and it was at this point he started to confide in the cat. Clarissa rolled her eyes, all she needed now was to overhear an arsehole's made up problems; but still maybe it could provide her with some humour to draw from when he next causes her grief, and it was not like she could just get up and leave. However what he said next made her ears perk up, it seemed so hard to believe.

"Why do I, do it Church..? I am horrid to people all of the time... I don't even understand why I feel the need to do it. I don't want to; but I feel pressured to come up with these horrible schemes to belittle others – like I can't be anyone else. I know it's no excuse, that if I just had some guts, I could stop it all... but still." He paused sighing heavily, and Clarissa didn't know what to do with herself; she felt like laughing at his pathetic excuses, possibly punching him for being such an ass or even crying – cause she knew this meant that the onslaught would just keep on coming, and then that's when he said it. "...It has to be to do with him Church... Why else would I act like this? As if it's natural to me? All those 'lessons' he gave me. All the preaching... Will I never break free of his hold on me?! Achk!" A loud spitting hiss came from their location, and Clarissa could tell that Church had, had just about enough of Jace's shit, as she had. Jace Wayland had the cheek to try to blame his actions on someone else. Typical.

However outrageous a revelation, she was overly-thankful for Church's input, as her body had started going numb from staying in one position for so long, and it seemed that the drama-queen was about to depart in a huff, so she would finally be free of the four o'clocks, dirt and roots. At the sound of stomps and then the door closing heavily within the greenhouse, Clarissa pulled the sketchbook and pencils out from her hiding place, after herself. She would need to remember that hidey-hole for future reference.

Upon standing up and stretching out her petite frame, she began trying to get the twigs and debris out of her roiling mass of curls. Her fiery tendrils had always given her trouble, it was hard to manage and time-consuming, but her mother had liked her hair this way the best, so she felt inclined to keep it this way now... in memoriam to the loving mother she had lost. Stroking her mother's sketchbook she thought of her mother's smile, often surrounded by paint and under-eye bags, and framed by hair even more blazing than her own. Yes, that's right. Her mother's fire ran through her too – Jocelyn Fairchild had left all that she had known behind when she went into the mundane world, to raise Clarissa by herself. She was fierce, and now her daughter had to be too, as she left that world behind her. Clarissa Fray will be her mother's legacy.

At this declaration, Clarissa took off for her room, no longer caring if anyone tried to torment her along the way. She was determined to conquer this world now. She was not going to let this turmoil overwhelm her; Shadowhunter is her apellation too and as such, she will live up to the name. Speeding through the Institute she finally came upon her door, and shoved into it hard as she entered the room. Since coming to the Institute in haste, she had brought little with her, the room was as plain as nearly all of the other rooms kept ready for visiting members of the Shadowhunter race, however she did have a few sketches tacked to the walls, around the simple bed with it's bedside table, desk and wardrobe occupying the room. She went straight to the bedside where she had been keeping the strange book given to her upon her arrival. Hodge had told her it was a book that all Shadowhunter children owned, and was vital to her development within the Institute. She had neglected it at the time, too traumatised to process the information it contained. But now she was ready.

Pulling her desk chair next to the window, a Gothic frame of mix-matched glass now looking out on to a dimming sky, Clarissa grabbed the Shadowhunter's Codex and her blanket and settled into the chair to engulf herself in the knowledge provided by the text. Letting herself be filled with the wonder and curiosities of her new world opening up before her, as understanding grew within herself. She stayed glued to the book for several hours, reading parts of it over and over again, until her head began to hurt and she slowly drifted off to sleep.

But upon waking with yet another stiff neck, and pair of sore eyes, Clarissa did not feel understanding for her own mother's actions. If this world was so brilliant, why had Jocelyn Fairchild discarded her own name, something that many Shadowhunter families seemed to worship, isolated herself from her own race and tried so hard to keep Clarissa from discovering the real world she lived in? A world in which all the stories she'd heard growing up were true. What had happened to make her mother live a life in exile...? These were all questions she would not find the answers to herself, and she knew it. So therefore solving these uncertainties was a problem she could not yet face, however finding out the details that the codex failed to include, and the real goings on of this world was something she could face. From now on she would train secretly, study what she could within the library, and then when ready she would attempt to convince Hodge Starkweather to let her join the other villainous occupants of the Institute in their 'investigations'. Clarissa suspected that the Shadowhunter's main occupation of hunting and killing other races was a part of her mother's renunciation – but as she couldn't tell for sure, she would have to involve herself in this warriors life.

*Involve herself she did. The next day she decided she was going to ask Hodge to let her start training with the other inhabitants. Of course it would have to be after yet another unpleasant breakfast, surrounded by the world's number-one arsehole and his herd of sheep, in which Jace had continued to goad her about the phone he had joyously destroyed the day before; after hearing his confession the previous evening, all Clarissa could do was glare at them all and urge herself to eat her porridge faster, so as to get to Hodge before morning lectures started.

*(A.N: I felt the above paragraph didn't quite make sense, nor did it fit with my next chapter so I have edited it)