Disclaimer: I own nothing, please don't make me say it again.
It had to be a dream. A really bad dream that she was going to wake up from in only a few moments. She stared at her phone as the second's clicked by and somewhere in Clary's mind a clock was ticking with every second that passed.
00:04:34
4 minutes ago her mother had been on the phone. She had told her that she loved her and that she had to remember it. Clary's heart skipped a beat and she licked her dried lips. To say she was in shock would be an understatement. She was past shock, she was going into panic.
Because what her mother said had sounded a lot like a goodbye.
The click of the phone locked her fate as if it was a judge and she was the convicted. She didn't understand what was going on. Everything had happened so fast, hadn't she just talked to her mother? It seemed like years now, not just merely minutes. Her mind was trying to make sense of the situation but she couldn't really hear it over the loud beating of her heart.
Simon was breathing in fast puffs beside her as he turned his fearful gaze to Clary. "That was a joke, right? We're being Punk'd, right?" He smiled hesitantly and laughed a little. People were glancing at Simon as if he were nuts as the boy looked around the area; hysteria had set in as Simon pulled at his hair. "Right? Right? This is crazy! It can't be real!"
Clary blinked a moment not entirely sure what to tell her best friend. All she knew was that she felt scared and alone.
"Listen! Clarissa, you can't go home. Do you understand? Go to Luke's or Simon's but do not, by any means, go home. Promise me, Clarissa."
Her mother had known. Whatever was happening, her mother had seen it coming and had known. Whoever had Jocelyn was coming for her.
Clary grabbed her best friend's shoulders and leveled her frantic green eyes with his brown ones. She tried to sound as calm as she could but, it was a move made in vain, her voice shook with her hands. "You have to take me home. Right now!" Clary said, forgetting all about her panic and fear driven promise.
Simon nodded in panic and threw the van in reverse. Her heart felt like ice and each beat seemed to be costing her more than the next. There was a deep pain inside her, like a part of her had been ripped out. Emptiness settled in her soul. All she had left was her mother and now the truth of the matter was that she didn't have her mother anymore. She had never felt so completely and utterly alone.
Clary threw the van door open and ran for her front door, Simon hot on her heels. He had driven like a mad man, weaving around traffic and in that moment, Clary never loved him more. The 30 minute car ride only took 10 as they halted at the front door.
Clary stood staring at it with big eyes; the door was ajar, like her mother had opened it and forgot to close it. But that was something her mother never did, she was always getting mad at Clary for not locking the door after she came home late from Simon's or Luke's. That brought another thought to Clary's head, what if this was all her fault?
What if she had forgotten to lock the door after she had left for Simon's this morning and the intruder had gotten in and waited for them to get home. Her mother had just been the first one on the scene. What if he was still in there?
"Listen! Clarissa, you can't go home. Do you understand? Go to Callie's or Summer's but do not, by any means, go home. Promise me, Clarissa."
Her mother's frantic voice played in her head again bu`t Clary didn't pay attention as she pushed the door open. She stared at the steps that lead to the upstairs and ran up them fast. She stopped in the main room and looked around. The drawers her mother had just recently painted were still lying around and on the table sat a glass that was dripping with condensation.
She looked in her mother's room to see the bed nicely made and her dresser nice and clean. Nothing looked out of the ordinary but something was. Something about the whole thing wasn't right, like this was all a façade; truthful words spoken out of the mouth of a liar. Something she could see but couldn't touch.
"Mom?"
Clary ran in circles for a moment. "Mom?!"
"MOM!"
"Mrs. Fray? Mrs. Fray!"
Clary listened as Simon called to her mother, but Clary knew she wasn't here. She didn't how she was so certain; it wasn't just the frantic call but something else entirely. Like her heart knew somehow. The bond between a mother and daughter, was one of the strongest ever known but was it strong enough?
"Where could she have gone?" Simon said in a rush. "Who could have took her? Did she say anything in particular on the phone. . ."
Clary ignored Simon as she turned to the scratching and whining coming from her own room. She carefully opened the door as if some sort of creature was going to come out. She only managed to open it for a crack before a dart of black fur rushed through, it moved like a bolt of black lightning. Napoleon yelped and ran in flurry around the room. He barked in a frenzy before licking at Clary's ankles.
"Oh, Napoleon," Clary dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around her dog, he seemed to move closer to her and whined in her ear.
Clary stood slowly and wandered back into the living room before stopping dead in her tracks. Her heart plummeted to her feet and her eyes widened in fear. Because seeing it, made the whole situation more real somehow; as if Clary was getting by thinking this was a dream and now seeing this, she had to wake up and face facts.
Her mother was gone and this was proof.
Because in the middle of the living room, lying on the floor as if Jocelyn had simply set it on the couch and it had just dropped, was her cell phone. The same phone that had been placed on her mother's skin as her voice had shaken in panic. That phone had seen what happened up close, it had seen the struggle that Clary knew had taken place though it certainly didn't look like it had. It had seen her mother's face as she fought; it had heard Clary tell a promise she had no intention of ever keeping.
Napoleon whined again curling his body around the phone, not daring to touch it.
That phone had seen the person who did this. Clary, for the first time ever, wished objects could speak.
A hand was placed on her shoulder but Clary remained still, her eyes never leaving that small phone that was haphazardly laying on the floor. "Maybe, she's just kidding…" Simon who had his hand on her shoulder, said. "It doesn't look like there was a struggle." Simon added as Clary narrowed her eyes at him.
"I know what I heard. My mom wouldn't joke like this." Clary said, "You heard it yourself, Simon!"
Simon grabbed Clary's sweating palm with his own sweaty hand and held on tight. It was only when he did that, that Clary turned her gaze away from the phone and to their joined hands. She couldn't remember the last time someone had held her hand. Really held it, squeezing onto her fingers like they couldn't bare to let go. She couldn't remember the last time she had needed it more.
Simon sighed his earlier hysteria on hold when he saw the look on her face. He placed his lips upon her cheek softly. "Well, there's nothing we can do but call the police and let them handle this."
Clary nodded absentmindedly. She could feel the teen staring at the side of her head like he wanted her to say something. But Clary had nothing to say, because none of this could have possibly been real. "Let's go home." He squeezed Clary's hand. "All of us." Simon kneeled and pet the black dog behind the ears.
Clary felt herself nod though she couldn't remember telling her body to do it. It felt as if her soul had left her and she was just looking on. She felt like a puppet being tugged by a string, a person just going through the motions.
She wanted to tell him she was home. But not even she could lie like that now; she turned to the picture framed on the wall.
Home is where the heart is.
Clary felt a tug at her heart as she remembered her mother putting that picture on the wall. She could still see her smiling as if she was right there hanging it up.
"Now, we have officially made this place our own." Jocelyn stood back and crossed her arms. She bumped hips with Clary with a laugh.
Clary had never really thought about the meaning to those words until now. She didn't think about the intensity that they held. Or how absolutely true every word was, because as she followed Simon out the door of the condo, she knew she couldn't call it her home.
Not anymore.
"Okay, can you retell the story for me, Clarissa?" A man stood before her, his hair was dark and curling around the collar of his police uniform.
When they had gotten to Simon's house, Simon had immediately started retelling the story to his mother and sister, Elaine and Rebecca, who had thrown concerned looks Clary's way and made gasps and screams in astonishment. They had told her she could stay as long as she needed and gave her a hug. She couldn't feel their warmth though they were offering it to her without asking for anything in return, she was too cold. She didn't know if she would ever be warm again as the ice piled in her veins.
They had called the police right afterwards and a dispatcher had come to the door within minutes. At first glance you wouldn't have thought he was a cop, with a handsome face and toned arms, he looked about 40 or so but still in shape for his age. His face showed small signs of age, from the slight crow's feet at the corner of his eyes to the small wrinkles in his forehead. He was pale, like a white sheet, and wore just his uniform though it was freezing outside. Or maybe that was just Clary's thoughts.
He had smiled at Simon's family somewhat falsely, though how could you smile a true smile knowing that there was a serious trauma at hand. He shook each of their hands and said his name. "I'm deputy Michael Wayland. You all can just all me Michael or Mike if you'd like."
He had asked what had happened and Simon relayed the story to him again, as they all sat in the living room. He nodded and glanced down at his notebook, as if he wasn't interested, but when he repeated everything Simon said Clary knew that he was paying close attention.
Then he had asked to speak with Clary alone and she had silently gotten up and went with him to the kitchen.
That's where they were now, with Michael staring at her expectantly. But the thing was Clary hadn't told the story yet. Simon had been doing that job for her, and she had been happy about it. Because telling the story, would be admitting that it happened. Relaying the story would be confirming what had been done and there was no going back after that. Clary would have to come to terms with the absolute truth. That this wasn't a dream, that this was all painfully real.
Her mother was gone.
And so Clary took a breath and opened her mouth.
But the words wouldn't come.
We all knew Clary was totally gonna run home!
