Ugh, I'm such a terrible person. You should all just kill me! It's almost been a year since I've updated and I feel so guilty! ACK! Well, I hope this doesn't suck as bad as it might. (And also, have you noticed any improvement in my writing? I sure have, after reading previous chapters of this story O.O Man, I suck at descriptive.)

~*Theme Song*~

Illuminated: Hurts

"Swing with your sorrows.

Let's try delusion for a while.

It's such a beautiful mind.

You've got to lose inhibition.

Romance your legal for a while.

Come on give it a try."


I could feel my face heat up in embarrassment as I walked up to Linda, preparing to ask her some questions I'd been dwelling on.

"Oh, Clarissa!" she said, smiling at me.

I sighed inwardly, wondering why she never seemed get that I'd rather be called Clary.

"Um, Linda, I'd like to ask you some things about Jace."

Linda's face fell and she nodded quickly. "Come, sit in the my office."

She led me into her cramped office space and I sat down across from her in a chair in front of the desk.

"What is it you'd like to ask me dear?"

"What ever happened to Jace's father before he was here?"

Linda straightened up. "He was murdered."

"That's not what it says—" I stopped, realizing that I was telling her I had been snooping around in the files. "That's not what Jace says."

"That's because Jace denies what happened." Linda said, speaking to me as if I were a small child. "Jace's father was murdered right before his very eyes, and that is what we believe caused him to end up here. No child that young can ever really process something like that, and he was scarred for life. And because of that, he embraced violence, which wound him up in an Asylum."

I didn't say anything for a while. "Who did he murder?"

Linda suddenly looked quite alarmed. "I am not supposed to speak of that. I think you need to leave Miss Fray, there's nothing more I can tell you."

"But—"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I was soon ushered out of the office, door slammed right in my face. The puzzle pieces were still laying out on the floor, none of them put together like I wished. It was almost like I thought if I stared at them long enough they would put themselves together, but I knew that wasn't possible.

I decided it was time to see Jace, but I was apprehensive about it. After what had happened earlier, I was scared how he'd react. I was scared how I would react. Honestly, I didn't know what he'd do. Volatile people could not be predicted.

The place felt as empty as ever, and my only company was the taps of my shoes against the stained linoleum floor. Shadows fell across the walls in haunting portraits, and it reminded me how much I truly hated this place. It was creepy, but also dank and shadowy, like an abandoned house. But really, weren't all Asylums like this? As least the stereotypical ones were.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. I placed a hesitant foot into the hall, put off by the flickering lights overhead. I knew exactly where his door was, exactly what to do, where to go, what to say, but it all just died inside of me as I pressed my sweaty palm to the cool metal of the doorknob.

It turned with an almost inaudible click, and it creaked as I slowly slid it open.

"Don't come in just yet, Clary."

My blood ran as cold as ice, and I froze in the doorway.

There was the sound of rustling fabric, and then he sighed. "Come on in."

I took a step forward, and then another. I came slowly into the room, shutting the door softly behind me. The curtains at the window were open, letting in gray light. The bed was made nicely, and there was a new fresh flower in the glass vase on the bedside table. Jace sat on the edge of the bed, his back facing me.

"Are you all right?" I asked. "I can get something for you—"

"I'm fine," he cut in sharply. "Just, come over here for a minute."

I swallowed, coming around the side of the bed to see him.

I screamed.

He didn't look up, still gripping the bloody shard of glass in his hand. I had no idea where he'd gotten it, and nothing seemed to be broken in the room. He'd cut the same markings into his skin that he'd drawn in chalk on the walls. He'd cut deep too, and they were all up his forearms.

"Jace, what did you do?" I kneeled in front of him, holding his face in my hands. "What happened?"

"They took it away," he said. "Took it away, and the only way to protect myself was to cut them in. Now I'll always be safe. They got through the ones on the walls, so I had to put them on myself."

"No Jace, no," I choked on tears. "You can't do that, you can't."

"I have to protect you too," he said. "I have to make you see them though, someone is shielding you. Your eyes are like mirrors, they reflect but you don't actually see. I must protect you though, because if they know you see they'll hurt you too." The shard of glass shook his grip. "Please, just let me help you."

"Who is 'they'? Who are they?"

"Them," his voice broke. "They hurt me, they hurt my family. They kill people, they're bad, and they're very very bad."

Was he schizophrenic? It didn't say anything about that in the file. But it could be very likely. Schizophrenia develops in the adolescent years, and it could very well be undiagnosed. He was shaking like crazy, and tears formed in his eyes.

"I'm going to get you help," I said. "Don't move."

Where were the other nurses? How had they not heard my scream? I leaped up from my spot on the floor and raced down the hall. The elevator seemed to be moving much too slow, and I pleaded and banged on it until it opened and I raced down to Linda's office.


"I suggest you take some time off, Clary. Just for a day or two. This can be traumatizing for the nurses as well, and I understand. Jace will be under heavy surveillance and be drugged most of the time, so we won't need your assistance."

I nodded. "Thank you." I had changed into my normal clothes, wrapping my pea coat around me tightly to seal in the heat.

I turned to leave (I was going to go into town), when Linda's voice rang out again.

"Oh, and by the way. Jonathan keeps saying something about Magnus Bane? He kept telling me to tell you that, and he insisted over and over again. So, I thought I should tell you."

The name stirred something in my mind, but I just dismissed it and left for my cab waiting outside. I rode into town, the whole time calculating the difference between pounds and American dollars.

Out of sheer curiosity, I decided to ask someone about Magnus Bane while I was at a café. The waiter chuckled, and told me he owned a small shop not far away that sold trinkets and things. He said he was an eccentric man, but liked to lie low. He said there was a rumor floating about that he things in with the police.

After I finished lunch, I decided to stroll around the area, peeking in some of antique stores and shops. It was calming, and nice. And the sun even decided to show its wonderful face, peeking through the still gray clouds.

A sign in one of the windows caught my eye, and I paused to read it.

Magnus Bane! Psychic Extraordinaire!

I rolled my eyes, but decided to peek inside anyways. A psychic? The waiter hadn't said anything about that. The windows were covered in dust, and the door creaked when I opened it, a small bell tinkering to signal my arrival. The place was covered in the same dust as well. Trinkets and things were all laid about; some antiques, but some just things collected over the years. I paused when someone's voice rang out from the desk up front.

"We're not open."

I paused, glancing up from the items around me to see a very peculiar man sitting at the desk with his feet propped up on the surface, reading a magazine. His raven hair was a tangled mess, covered in glitter. He had on eyeliner, and his clothes consisted of many different neon articles. But his eyes were the strangest things. They were like cat eyes; at least that's what I thought. But he blinked, and they seemed to be normal once again.

"Someone told me about you," I said, walking up to where he was sitting. "He said I needed to see you."

"And who is that?" he sounded bored, like he'd heard this everyday.

"Jace Morgenstern."

He set down the magazine, standing abruptly from his chair. "Now we're really closed." He said. "I suggest you leave."

"Why?" I didn't mean to sound desperate, but it seemed to come across that way anyway. "My name is Clarissa Fray, I work at the Asylum—"

"I know who you are." He replied viciously. "And I don't want you in my shop. Is that clear?"

I choked on my words. "What? How do you know who I am?"

"He talks about you a lot. I was wondering what was so great about you, but to me you just come across as sort of dull." He quipped.

"He talks to you? How can he talk to you? He never leaves his room." I exclaimed.

"He's terrified and he can't protect himself, that's why I gave him that stupid chalk. But they took away the instrument to mark himself, so now he's even more helpless." He glared at me. "And as for you, you're a lost cause."

My mind was reeling. "What are you talking about?

The curtain in back shifted, and another guy stepped out. He looked about Jace's age, maybe a little older. He reminded me of someone, with his dark hair and blue eyes. But I just wasn't sure.

"Alec, go away. We're fine, I'm just dealing with someone." Magnus turned to Alec, eyebrows raised.

I'd heard that name before, from someone. I knew I had. "Jace never told me what you do. What is it you do?"

"Jace?" Alec choked on the name. "Jace?"

Magnus looked beyond frustrated now. "Alec, I told you to leave. I have this under control."

"Who is she? How does she know Jace?" his voice was panicky. "What's your name?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but Magnus cut in. "Go. I told you to leave. No go."

I stumbled backwards from the small shove he'd given me, and decided to finally give up. I left, bell clinking as the door opened and shut. Cool air hit me, the scent much fresher than the dank, musty smell of the old shop.

Who was he? What was his story? Jace had told me my eyes were like mirrors, reflecting but never seeing. He was protecting himself, but from what? Was he really insane? A lost cause? Was everything he told me true? My mind was reeling with questions, and I had not one answer to any of them.

That chalk. So that's how he had gotten the chalk, from Magnus.

I was blind, unseeing of something far bigger in this picture that everyone else seemed to understand but me. I felt blind, and weary as well from trying pull the blindfold off from over my eyes. I just didn't know how.

Where was Jace?