Chapter 1 – just another bruise
Please note, that with some songs I will be posting the lyrics because it will be because either Jace or Clary will sing them, or because the lyrics will have meaning or importance to the scene, and if you read them the scene will make a lot more sense, but I won't do it with every song I put in the playlist at the start of each chapter. :)
Disclaimer: I'm only going to be doing this once, (because it is obvious I don't own TMI) but, all rights and reserves and Characters belong to Cassandra Clare, except for the Characters I make up ;)
Playlist:
Dirty Little Secret by All American Rejects. (Scene 1 with Jocelyn and Valentine)
Never Again by Nickleback (Scene 2 with Clary and Valentine)
Airplanes by B.o.B feat Hayley Williams (Jace and Clary)
Flashback: 7 years ago
"I just can't do this anymore Valentine! I just can't pretend! I'm done!" Jocelyn yelled furiously as she threw clothes into a suitcase.
"You can't be done Jocelyn. Did you forget our wedding vows? 'Till death do us part'?" counted Valentine as he grabbed the clothes that Jocelyn had just put in the suitcase and threw them back on the floor.
"Of course I remember Valentine, but it just doesn't mean anything to me anymore." Jocelyn then paused as another thought struck her and she reached down and pulled off her wedding ring and threw it on the bed. "There! Have it back and give it to a woman who can give you what you want!"
"You are what I want Jocelyn! Jesus! That's why I married you!"
"But you are not what I want!" Jocelyn screamed.
They stopped just staring at each other silently for several heartbeats, both breathing heavily.
"What do you want Jocelyn? What do you want and I'll give it to you." Valentine said after a while in a dead voice. You could tell that he was getting tired of the fight and wanted it over with.
"I want this divorce Valentine. I'm sorry, but I have more waiting for me out there." Jocelyn said sadly and stopped her packing to look at her now ex-husband.
"You mean someone. There is someone out there waiting for you." Valentine said coldly.
"Valentine, I'm sorry. I never meant for you to find out this way-" Jocelyn began but was cut off once again by Valentine.
"You mean you didn't want me to find out that you were having an affair with that idiot?!"
Jocelyn sighed and ran a frustrated hand through her long, red locks. "He is not an idiot Valentine. His name is Luke."
"How is a book shop owner supposed to support you in life Jocelyn? You won't be able to get anywhere."
"I don't care Valentine, because unlike you, my world doesn't revolve around how much money I have, or how big my house is, and I most definitely do not find the need to flaunt it in front of everyone."
"I do not flaunt." Valentine said defensively.
"Yes you do!"
Jocelyn's head was suddenly whipped to the side as Valentine's left hand cracked against her cheek. Jocelyn blinked and put a hand to her cheek and looked at Valentine stunned. Never in their ten years of marriage had Valentine ever raised a hand against her and he most definitely had never hurt her either.
Jocelyn stepped back and grabbed her suitcase as she did and slowly started backing out of the room suddenly terrified. She grabbed her ten year old daughter's hand, Clary, and began walking out of the house towing Clary along with her. Suddenly she could hear thunderous steps behind her and could hear Valentine's raised voice.
"Where do you think you are taking her Jocelyn?" Valentine demanded.
"I'm not leaving her here with you Valentine; she is coming with me where she will be safe." Jocelyn fought.
"No! If you leave I get Clary otherwise, stay your ass here and you can still see her every day. Otherwise if you leave now, you'll never see her again. Mark my words."
Jocelyn hesitated and stopped just on the front door. Outside she could see Luke waiting for her in the car and was shooting her concerned looks. Jocelyn bit her lip nervously and looked down between her daughter and Luke.
"Mummy?"
Jocelyn looked down at the little girl who resembled her so much that it was startling. Her wild and fiery red hair was carefully controlled by being pulled back into a ponytail. The light matter of freckles that were across her nose and the bright green eyes that would haunt Jocelyn for the rest of her life after making her decision. Jocelyn dropped her bag and knelt down beside her daughter and looked her right in the eyes. She could see the start of unshed tears in Clary's eyes and could read the fear and the concern in the depth of her eyes and Jocelyn's insides twisted with guilt. But she had to do this. Jocelyn had to do it for herself.
"Clary, sweetie. Mum has to leave now, and I don't know when you will see me next. But you will be ok, alright? And I will come back for you Clary never forget that, and I'm only a phone call away babe. If you need anything, anything at all, all you have to do is ring me and I will come right back and get you alright?" Jocelyn said.
Little Clary nodded and looked down at the scrap bit of paper that Jocelyn had hurriedly scribbled her number down on and handed to Clary.
"Mum, please don't leave. Stay here with me and dad," Clary pleaded with her mother.
Jocelyn grimaced and enveloped Clary in a hug. One she feared would be the last. The last time that she would hold, and may even see her daughter.
"I can't baby. I have to leave. I have to do this for me."
"But what about me Mum?"
"You will be fine Clary. I promise."
Jocelyn then stood up and kissed her daughter one last time on the forehead before racing out the door without a single glance back at either Clary or Valentine.
Clary watched heart-brokenly and Valentine coldly as Jocelyn climbed in the passenger's side of the green Ute and drove away without even looking back.
After that, a year later, Valentine and her moved to Idris and that was when Valentine started to stumble home drunk from the bar and start hitting and beating Clary badly. He would be that drunk that he would miss work and ended up getting fired, so Clary and Valentine had now degraded from the very nice and fancy house they had in Brooklyn to a shabby and crappy house in the Bronx areas and the rough areas of Idris. The areas where people were typically stabbed and raped when walking home late at night, but her father warned her that if she was home before seven o'clock at night then she would be safe.
But she wasn't safe.
A year after living in Idris, and Clary was twelve, Valentine began to beat her. He would make her cook him dinner and if she didn't have it hot and on the table for him when he came home there would be hell to pay. She also had to make sure the house was spotless and clean every morning before she went to school and every night before he came home from the bar.
When Clary was fourteen, he began to rape Clary. While he was raping her, he would tell her how it was all her fault that Jocelyn had left him and her and then he would take his frustrations out on her. He would then finish by beating her until she was black, blue and bleeding or unconscious, and then Clary would be left to her own devices to getting herself to bed and school each morning.
They lived a good thirty kilometres away from the school so it was an hour's walk to and from school every morning and afternoon and then she would be in a rush to clean and cook before Valentine came home.
Her best friends Simon Lewis and Magnus Bane knew of her beating that she received from her father every night and knew about the sexual assault as well, but were sworn to secrecy by Clary because she told them how if Valentine found out that anyone knew, he would kill Clary and those who that knew. Clary not wanting to put her friend's lives in danger made them swear to not tell anyone which they thankfully never did. They just helped Clary fix her injuries and help her up the stairs when her legs were unable to support her weight by carrying her up the stairs themselves.
Every night Clary would self-harm and cut her wrists. She knew that she shouldn't and that it gets her nowhere and solves nothing, but the bliss of the stinging kiss that the razor brought when it came in contact with her skin made her forget everything going on in her life at the moment. It made all the bad stuff seem not so bad. As Clary said to Simon and Magnus when they would scold her for cutting she would say "the physical pain makes the emotional pain go away." That and it also for a moment made her forget everything that her father does to her every night.
When Clary was fifteen, she was in the process of committing suicide, by tying a rope around the pole of the swings in the park near the school when Simon, who lived nearby, decided that would be a good time to visit the park and saw Clary and what she was trying to do and stopped her immediately then held her for an hour as she cried into his shoulder. That night when Clary got home she received the worst beating she had ever got off Valentine because she hadn't cleaned the house or had his meal cooked ready. He broke four of her ribs, fractured an ankle and left bruises all over her torso, arms and face.
That was the day that neither Simon nor Clary liked to think about. Simon didn't like to think about it because it was the day he could have lost his best friend. Clary didn't like to think about it because it was the day that she had finally given into the darkness and her emotions and broke down.
Now, two years later, since then Clary had not cried, screamed, yelled or complained. Not once. Not when her father beat her or raped her. And not even when the popular and bitchy girls Aline and Kaelie and their little groups picked on her and made fun of her for wearing long pants and long sleeves every day.
But Clary knew that one day the light from the other end of the tunnel would shine down on her and she would get her freedom. What she didn't expect was how soon it would come – two years later when she was seventeen and in senior year with Simon and Magnus. That was the year when everything started to change.
End of Flashback.
.o.O.o.
(Present time and Clary is now seventeen and in senior year.)
'Ok,' Clary Fray thought. 'Dinner is cooked, lounge, kitchen, bathroom and dining room are clean and Valentine's bed is made ready. I haven't forgot anything…right?' she thought worriedly while she chewed on her bottom lip nervously and hurriedly ate her bowl of soup while Valentine's roast lamb and vegetables stayed in the microwave so that it stayed hot. Valentine knew to go the microwave every night and that was where he would find his dinner which Clary would specially make for him each and every night.
Finishing her dinner Clary went over and washed her dishes and then trudged up the stairs to her small bedroom.
As Clary pushed open the door she looked around bleakly at the room that had once been her sanctuary from her father until he invaded this space as well. Usually he would beat her in the living room or the hall and rape her in her bedroom.
She sighed as she made her way up the stairs and closed the door behind her. She would hear her father if he came home.
She sat on her bed and pulled out her English homework and started on the essay that they had to write. She grabbed her iPod out of her pocket and flicked through her playlist before settling on the song 'The Rock Show' by Blink 182. As she sat there doing her homework she found herself singing along to the words of the song and bopping her head in time with the beat.
After a while however, she got tired of writing the essay and started doodling in the corner of her page. When she had finished the picture she pulled her hand away to see that she had drawn a picture of an eye.
She was just starting to pull out her sketch pad when she heard the front door bang shut. She had hidden her sketch pad under her bed in fear that her father would find it and see all the depressing pictures she had drawn.
Her sketch pad to her was like a diary. Instead of writing down what she felt she would draw it. A few of the pictures were of her father abusing her, or of her crying in the corner of a very dark and gloomy room that seemed to be caving in on her. It was something that was solely hers and she never showed it or spoke of it to anyone.
Clary quickly hid the sketch pad and pulled her homework back towards her when she suddenly heard her father calling her from downstairs.
"Clarissa! Get your lazy ass down here right now!" Valentine screamed.
Terrified Clary got up from her bed and made her way swiftly down the stairs and into the kitchen where she found her father standing beside his dinner. On the table was Valentine's roast lamb dinner and it was still steaming hot.
"What's wrong?" She asked hesitantly.
Valentine pointed at the meal and regarded her with a look filled with hate. It was clear that he was beyond drunk because he couldn't even focus on her properly and he was swaying on his feet where he stood.
"What the hell is that?" He asked still pointing at the meal.
Clary looked at it confused. "Roast lamb," she answered.
Valentine narrowed and reached out gripping her by the collar of her shirt and lifted her slightly off the ground.
"I know that you smart arse. I want to know when the roast beef is." He snarled.
'Well you should have asked that in the first place.' Clary thought but in reality she stayed silent.
"Well?" Probed her father.
"I-I didn't make roast beef, only l-lamb." She stuttered.
Her father got this angry glint in his eye as he literally threw her across the room and she slammed into the wall where she slumped to the floor in a heap. Her hip and shoulder were shooting pains down her spine from where they took the brute of the hit.
"You're pathetic Clarissa! You cannot do anything right can you?" He yelled as he gripped her by the top of her arms and held her against the wall.
"Dad, please let me go," she whimpered.
"Shut up! You're nothing more than a slut are you?" He sneered and Clary felt tears brim her eyes though she refused to let them fall, so she blinked them back. She never cried. Never.
He then slapped her face to one side only to knock it back the other way with his closed fist.
"Don't you dare talk back to me! Learn some respect young lady!" He yelled while kneeing her in the stomach to effectively wind her.
Needless to say, Clary didn't even back-chat him. Clary didn't say anything, but you just couldn't get through in his alcohol hazed state. As he kicked her again her body gave in and she fell to the floor helplessly. All Clary could do was wait until he was finished so that she could drag herself up the stairs and wipe the blood off of her body and then distribute herself in bed for the night, hoping that she could heal all these bruises and scars over night, but knowing that they never would.
After about an hour and several cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, too many bruises to count and several cuts, Valentine finally went to bed. Clary laid there for several minutes, in too much pain to move but after about ten minutes of lying on the floor Clary knew she had to move. Clary slowly got to her feet and gripped the counter for support as she stood. Clary waited several seconds to allow her legs the time to get use to the weight before she headed up the stairs.
Once there Clary went into the bathroom and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She hated what she saw almost instantly. What she saw first after she had stripped off all of her clothes was all the scars and bruises. Then she saw the pale skin and the barely there chest that she had, and her skin that was littered with freckles everywhere. Her jade green eyes were dull and no longer held the bright spark that they use to and the softness in her face was gone, and was instead replaced with a hardness that refused to let anyone in her life and show them what her life was really about.
Clary sighed as she ran the water in the shower and then jumped in. the relief of the hot water running over her sore and aching muscles was instantaneous. Clary leaned against the shower wall, too tired to wash her body down and she looked down at the swirling water at her feet that was tinted red from her blood with a bitter resentment. Clary don't know how long she was in the shower for but eventually the water started to run cold so Clary took that as her cue that it was time to hop out.
After changing into her pyjamas and brushing her teeth, Clary limped back into her bedroom where she collapsed into bed and set her alarm for six o'clock in the morning. It then didn't take long for her to fall asleep and escape to the world of her dreams.
.o.O.o.
The next morning, Clary was too sore to move. Clary wanted nothing more than to lie in her bed for the rest of the day and not to move. Or better yet, just to die, that way she would never have to put up with her dad's crap ever again. But Clary knew that if she did die that Simon and Magnus would never forgive her.
Clary had often thought about running away and finding her mother, but didn't for two reasons. Number one, because she was certain that Valentine would find her before she could even get two steps out the door, and then Clary would probably receive the worst beating she ever has in her life.
And two; because she hated and resented her mother for abandoning her when Clary needed her mother the most. How could her mother leave her in the hands of her abusive father?
Groaning, Clary pulled herself out of bed and got dressed for the day. She crossed her bleak room with the peeling wallpaper, over to her small closet where she stood, debating over what to wear. She ended up deciding on a pair of blue jeans that were ripped at the knees and along the bottoms, a green singlet with a plain white long sleeve top that was cut down to the top of her breasts and a black hoodie thrown over the top. Clary closed her wardrobe and walked to the end of her bed where she stuffed her feet into her black converse shoes that were splattered with paint, and then made her way down stairs.
She made herself a cup of coffee and two pieces of dried bread with butter for breakfast and then sat at the table wondering what today would bring.
Today was the first day back after midyear break, and she hadn't seen either Simon or Magnus for the best of the two weeks. She knew that they both would be anxious to see her just to confirm to themselves that she was still alive and that her father hadn't killed her, which he had come close to doing a number of times.
Clary finished her breakfast and got up and washed her dishes in the sink. It was times like these that she wished that they had a dishwasher to save her time, but no. her wage that she got from working five nights a week at the bar was only enough for her father to pay the bills with and to buy alcohol with. Whatever was left – or if there was money left – was for Clary.
After she had washed the dishes, including those from last night that her father had made and got rid of a broken scotch glass, which she had no idea how her father had broken it, she moved up stairs to do her hair for the day and brush her teeth.
After one look in the mirror, Clary knew that she would have to wear make-up today – there was no escaping it.
Purplish bruises were visible under her left eye and the bottom of her right cheek. Applying the foundation, she winced slightly as she brushed the make up over the bruises – thick enough so that you couldn't see the bruises unless you knew they were there. She then applied some mascara and eyeliner, with a light covering of blush to add some colour to her pale features and after debating about it, she left her hair down to cascade down her back to help hid the bruises on her cheeks, jaw and shoulders.
Heading back to her room, Clary grabbed her brown messenger bag from the foot of her bed, and headed to the back of the house to put a load of washing on that she would later hang out when she got home. Then she left through the back door and exited the house through the side gate and started the hour long walk to school. At times like these Clary wished they lived closer so that she didn't have to walk the thirty kilometres to school every morning. Most of the time, she was exhausted by the time she got to school.
Clary pulled out her iPod and began listening to the song 'Airplanes' by B.o.B featuring Hayley Williams and started singing to the chorus and first verse.
Can we pretend that airplanes, in the night sky are like shooting stars?
I could use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now.
Can we pretend that airplanes, in the night sky are like shooting stars?
I could use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now.
Yeah, I could use a dream or a genie or a wish
To go back to a place much simpler than this
'Cause after all the glitz and the glam and the fashion,
And all the pandemonium and all the madness
There comes a time when you fade to the blackness
And when you starin' at the phone in your lap
And you hopin' but them people never call you back
But that's just how the story unfolds,
And you get another hand soon after you fold
And when you plans unravel in the sand
What would you wish for if you had one chance?
So airplane, airplane, sorry I'm late.
I'm on my way, so don't close that gate
If I don't make that then I'll switch my flight
And I'll be right back at it by the end of the night.
Clary stopped singing to think about the lyrics to the song. Obviously the person wanted an escape through a wish, and that is exactly what she wanted. The only way Clary could escape was by the miracles of a wish that had to be granted. But wishes only came true to those who deserved them, people who weren't like her, and that is the reason she was an atheist.
If there was a God, and he was real. Then why was she given the life she was given when all the Christians claimed that God only wanted the best for everyone? Where was the happiness in her life with an abusive father, and when she busted her gut every week night at the bar just to pay the bills that Clary's father should be paying, so she can have a roof over her head? Where was the happiness in that?
But Clary was used to being overlooked, and it always seemed to be the people who didn't need the wishes have them. Like wealthy people winning the lotto, or high class business men getting promotion after promotion and earning ridiculous amounts of money, while she worked long hours for shit all pay. The world had a very strange definition of fairness.
Clary looked up from the ground when she heard a car going past her. Clary only had enough time to see that there were three teenagers in the car. Two with black hair and one with blonde. The blonde one driving. As they drove past her, Clary could swear she felt the blonde teen watching her in the rear view mirror and she shuddered involuntarily with a sudden chill.
Hanging her head she trudged on to school, pulling her coat tighter around her body when the cold started seeping through the material. Clary cast a look up at the sky and saw that it was turning greyish and looked as if it was getting ready to rain. Thinking of the makeup she was wearing that she didn't want washed off her face, she quickened her pace.
Fifty minutes later Clary was walking through the front gates of the school, with having ten minutes free before classes began.
She immediately started for her, Magnus's and Simon's hangout spot near the back of the canteen on the bleachers where they met every morning before school. Simon was the first one to see her when he glanced up from his manga magazine – almost as if he could sense her approaching – and ran towards her.
"Clary!" He shouted as he discarded his book on the bleachers and took them down two at a time to reach her.
"Hey Si," She called back with a light chuckle but grew worried when she saw that Simon wasn't slowing his pace. "Whoa, Si, careful!" She exclaimed throwing her hands up in front of herself to defend her beaten body and immediately Simon halted in his tracks.
Magnus who had somehow appeared right beside Simon looked her up and down.
"Are you alright Clary?" He asked worriedly giving her a light squeeze after Simon had.
Clary grimaced and shrugged her shoulders. Something both Simon and Magnus knew she did whenever she was hurting rather badly that day.
Magnus felt his fists clenching at his sides sub-consciously as he caught sight of a covered bruise along her jaw. How anyone could do such a thing to someone so small and delicate, he didn't know.
Clary who saw Magnus clenching his hands stepped forward to take his hands in hers to calm him down.
"I'm fine Magnus, really. I'm fine," she said, but she didn't look as if she believed her own words.
"Uh Huh," Magnus muttered and then gently grabbed Clary's chin in his gasp. "Then tell me how old this one is?" He said and then looked closely at her face. "And, how old this one here is too," He said running a careful finger underneath her left eye.
Clary jerked back as if he had shocked her. "They don't hurt," She said defensively.
Simon looked at her in disbelief while Magnus raised an eyebrow.
"Oh really?" challenged Magnus. "So if I do this…"
He reached out to poke the bruise under her eyes softly and Clary gasped while flinching away.
"Magnus! Please!" Clary begged, stepping back, with a hand covering the left side of her face.
Magnus stepped forward before she could retreat any further and wrapped his arms delicately around her fragile form.
"I'm sorry Clare-bear, I just worry about you," he whispered.
At first Clary was tense in his hold from the sudden contact, but like every other time, she melted into his protective embrace.
"I missed you too Maggie," she whispered.
She watched as Magnus scrunched his face up in a scowl. "Clary, darling, I know we all know that I'm gay, but you know how much I hate the name Maggie," he scowled her.
Clary chuckled softly before breaking off from the pain in her ribs. She winced slightly and if Magnus wasn't holding her, he might not have noticed. But because he was holding her he felt her flinch.
He pulled away and looked down at her with an expectant look. Clary not wanting to get into it tugged on his hand and started pulling him and Simon towards the school buildings after the bell had rung two minutes ago.
"If you don't want to talk about it Clare-bear, just say so." Simon said.
Clary stopped suddenly and both boys screeched to a halt. "I do say I don't want to talk about it, but you guys make me talk about it anyway!" She yelled.
Magnus looked at Simon and they exchanged a look. They knew something was different about their Clary. There was a part of her that had broken off from her, but they couldn't work out what it was. Her father must have done something even worse than usual to break the spirit that Clary had left. Now, she had none.
Simon opened his mouth to ask the question that both of them were thinking, but a quick, sharp look from Magnus made him shut it again.
"We're sorry Clare-bear," Simon said sincerely.
Clary's eyes widened as she had just realised that she had yelled at her two best friends. "Oh god! I'm so sorry I yelled at you!" she said quickly. "Please don't hurt me. I'm sorry!"
Simon and Magnus looked at each other again, but this time with alarm. Clary never, never, acted like this so something must have really happened to her.
"We won't hurt you Clare-bear. We're your best friends, we could never hurt you." Magnus said stepping towards her and slowly stretched his hand out so that she could see what she was doing. Clary watched him warily, and then stiffened when Magnus wrapped an arm around her.
Magnus ran his hand up and down her arm to try and sooth her. "Shh, Clary, it's alright. I promise I won't hurt you."
Clary looked up at Magnus surprised by herself. Had she really just allowed herself a moment of weakness? What was wrong with her?! Quickly she pushed Magnus off of her gently and smiled at him.
"I know Magnus. I know you won't hurt me. I don't know what got into me," she said. "I'm sorry."
Simon rolled his eyes and offered her his hand. After a brief hesitation she took it and they continued towards their first period class. "You're allowed to feel weak Clary. It's ok to need people. And for God's sake, stop apologising! It isn't your fault."
Clary grimaced as she pulled open the door to the entrance of the school. "I've been taught not to show weakness or emotions Si, I can't help it." She said, ignoring the apologising comment. She knew it bothered both Simon and Magnus how much she apologised, but she couldn't help it. It came as an instinct for whenever she done something wrong.
"Because of your dad?" He asked bluntly.
Clary winced internally as they reached her locker. "Yes."
"Your father's wrong Clary. You know that right?" Magnus asked her.
Clary looked at the ground, avoiding their eyes as she answered. "No his not," She whispered.
"But he is."
Clary looked up again and sighed as she opened her locker and pulled out her maths books for her first period maths class. Closing the locker door again she turned to address her two best friends.
"I have to go to class. I'll meet you guys at lunch at our spot," She said and started off down the hall but Magnus called after her.
"You can't avoid the subject forever Clary!"
A few people turned around to look at them so Clary ducked her head and walked quicker towards her classroom.
When she entered the classroom however, she found herself in a predicament. Her usual seat by the window in the back row was taken up by an unfamiliar boy with golden wavy hair. As she got closer, she could see that the boy looked very similar to the teenager with golden hair that drove past her in the car this morning.
He was wearing a light cotton t-shirt in the colour of a light, palish green, with denim shorts cut off at the knees. The runners that he wore and the carefree attitude that he seemed to have surrounding him, gave her the impression that he could be an athlete, and the muscles rippling up and down his arms just supported her theory. She saw that his abs stood out when he sat a certain way, making the material of his t-shirt pull tight across his stomach. His long, slender fingers were playing with a grey lead pencil as he juggled it from hand to hand between his fingers. But that wasn't the most startling thing about his appearance, nor was the fact that he was sitting in her seat. But it was when his eyes flicked up to look at her as she stopped at the front of his table. His eyes were gold. Clary had never seen anything like it before. She had seen green eyes with flecks of gold in them, but this boys were purely… gold.
The boy looked her up and down, assessing her body and looks, and Clary felt suddenly self-conscious under the scrutiny of his eyes, so she shifted from foot to foot.
The boy suddenly smirked at Clary. "Well, what was it that lured you over? My stunningly good looks or was it that you were hoping to exchange numbers?" He asked cockily as he stood up to stand in front of her. He thrust his hand out towards her for her to shake. "The name is Jace Lightwood."
Clary couldn't help but notice how short she was compared to this boy. Next to him, the top of her head barely brushed his shoulders. Clary narrowed her eyes at his attitude and squared her shoulders. There was no way she was going to fall for this boy just because he was pretty to look at – ok, better than pretty – or because he had a killer attitude. It was boys like this that were dangerous and were to be stayed away from.
Clary not wanting to look intimidated shook his hand. "Clary Fray. And neither of those reasons are why I'm over here. You're sitting in my seat. And I'd like it back thanks." She said.
The boy looked surprised that she wasn't affected by his charms but quickly composed himself and gave her a smug smile. "Clary Huh? Like the herb. Clary sage…" He broke off as he seemed to be thinking before he looked back at her and smiled. "I like it."
Clary glared as she realised that he had made no move to move his belongings to a new table.
"You don't have to like it Goldie-locks, I just want my seat." She snapped.
Jace grinned. "You're gonna have to fight for it." He challenged.
Shrugging, Clary darted around him and shoved his stuff off the table and onto the floor and took up the seat. Turning she gave Jace a triumph smile.
"Well, that's no way to treat a new student," Jace said, faking hurt.
Clary shrugged. "It's high school, not the Royal committee. Get used to it."
She then turned to the front of the class as the teacher began the lesson. She saw Jace slip into the seat beside her and glance at her every now and then.
That was how she met Jace Lightwood, and the day that her life started to change.
Only, she didn't know it just yet.
So, really long chapter, awesome aren't I? So did you love it or hate it? Do you like the idea of the story line so far? What about Jace? Do you think I'm doing a good job at keeping him in character? I know some characters are OOC but tell me if they are getting too OOC.
Next chapter. Meeting the other lightwood sibling's maybe? What about Jace turning up at Clary's work?
Please review what you think. Is it good, bad? Or too long? Let me know! :D
Question of the day:
Who is your favourite Mortal Instruments character and why? Leave your comments in the reviews :)
Tell next time my lovelies xx