Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments characters.
This story will be updated every SATURDAY at around 10pm CDT/CST time.
WORD COUNT: 2897
CHAPTER FIVE: THE EMPTY CHILD
When she catches up to Jace, he's already rounding the lighthouse to the other side of it, the side facing the sea. She's panting as she stands next to him and shoulders her pack. The view is incredible.
She whispers, "Wow," at the same time Jace lets out a low whistle.
They're standing at the edge of a small, rocky cliff. Below is a small strand of beach. The water is the bluest blue Clary has ever seen and crashes lightly onto the shore. She sits down at the edge and scoots forward until her feet are dangling over. She slides carefully until one of her feet hits a solid, but jagged rock. She slowly eases herself down, but ends up slipping anyway. Jace yells and she lets out a small yelp as she stumbles forward and cuts herself on the rock.
"You okay?" Jace jumps down behind her, and she can't help but smile at the heavy concern in his voice.
She slowly gets up and brushes herself off. There's a pain in her arm, but she ignores it and sends him a small smile. "I'm fine. C'mon, we gotta go down there and get a good view!"
She turns and runs, not bothering to see if he follows her. When she gets down to where the water meets the sand, Clary takes off her shoes and socks and digs around in her bag for the small blanket she packed. She lays it down gently; the wind helps her spread it out evenly. She sits down gingerly and unpacks all of her supplies and begins painting the lighthouse. She barely notices the sting in her arm. After about twenty five minutes, Jace , sitting next to her on the sand, looking out at the sea, asks, "Are you sure you're okay?"
Clary pauses and look at him funny. "Yeah," She answers slowly. "Why do you ask?"
He takes her left hand and flips it over so her palm is facing the sky. She gasps. "You've been bleeding this entire time." He touches the cut, from her wrist to her elbow. He's slow and gentle, just like the first time they met. "It doesn't hurt?"
"No," she frowns. "I hadn't even noticed it."
"We're gonna need to cover it up soon, hurt or no hurt." He looks to his left, where the storm clouds are. Lightning flashes in the distance. "You almost finished?"
"I've got it pretty well memorized; we can leave if you want."
He sends her a toothy grin. "I don't want to leave just yet." He stands up with a grunt and packs up all of her things. He grabs hold of her good arm and hauls her up. "I wanna go in there." He nods toward the lighthouse.
She raises her eyebrows. "Really?"
"Yeah," he answers. "Maybe just wait out the storm if we can find a way in. That'd be fun."
"You can hold my hand if you get scared," she folds the blanket unevenly and stuffs it into her backpack. He sticks his tongue out at her.
They run together toward the lighthouse just as the first drops of rain hit. Clary squeals as the cold raindrops hit her skin. Jace runs faster than her despite the sand, so he stops a few feet ahead of her until she catches up. When she does, he grabs her arm, careful of the cut, and then she's stumbling behind him.
When they reach the door to the lighthouse, Clary's surprised to see it opens easily. Inside is musty and smells like old books. Jace sneezes and tells her he's allergic to dust.
They climb the circular staircase up to the middle level of the lighthouse. The staircase continues on the other side of the room, but they decide to crash here for now. A rotten bed frame sits in the corner with an old, yellowed mattress sagging on top. Someone must have lived here once. An old, mahogany desk sits against the wall. Above it, a narrow window that arches near the top is so dirty that she has to spit on her hand to wipe away the dirt and get a look outside. The view is more than appealing; it shows the small strip of beach where they came from. Clary can still see their footprints in the sand, despite the rain drops that now litter the area. The storm can be seen making its way across the sea.
"Beautiful," she whispers. Jace comes up behind her, heat radiating off him. She holds in a shudder
He speaks quietly. "It's like heaven and hell is fighting, and hell is winning."
She looks at him. "Do you believe in that stuff?"
He shrugs, embarrassed. He turns away. "Is that so bad?"
Clary shakes her head and follows him toward the center of the room. "I mean, if it gives you comfort then I guess it's okay. It's just . . . what is heaven?"
He takes a deep breath. "I think that people see heaven as one big place. I believe it's more like a buttload of places all crammed together, like Disneyland. See, you got the Claryland . . . the Jaceland . . . a whole mess of Everybody-else-lands. Put them all together—heaven, right?"
She smirks. "Yeah, I guess that's one way to look at it. I'm still trying to get over the fact that you used 'buttload' and 'Disneyland' in the same sentence."
He smiles sheepishly. "What about you? What do you believe in?"
She scoffs. "I don't believe in any of it. I do understand where you're coming from though. With everybody's own version of it. Hell . . . Hell would be a multi-faced mirror with like, countless reflections thing you inside so you can see the demons you refuse to look at. It wouldn't always be a place, either; sometimes it's a feeling, sometimes it's an event," she says without hesitation, "sometimes it's a person." Someone like your father, she remembers.
She can feel Jace's eyes on her. "Why do you say that?"
Clary shakes her head of the fuzziness. "Because I've been to a place like that before," she says bravely. "And I know hell is cold, because hell is not always made of fire."
Jace's eyes soften. "Clary . . ."
She blinks hard. "Sorry," she says. "Sorry, it's just . . ." she wave her arms around me. "You know."
His eyebrows crease as he nods. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I know."
Clary looks away quickly. She faces the window again, watching as the storm clears up. The sun peeks through the clouds, forming a faded rainbow. She turns back to see Jace still staring at her. She points a thumb behind her. "Rainbow. Wanna get a better look up there?"
He blinks and smiles widely. "Sure, let's see if we can get up there." He practically runs to the circular staircase and she is grateful for the sudden subject change.
She grabs her pack and follow him up the creaky wooden stairs.
She meets up with him again on the gallery near the lens and lantern. He's staring at the rainbow.
He says, "That is the brightest one I've ever seen," and she couldn't agree more.
She points to the left. "Stand a little bit over there." He does. "Okay, face the rainbow and open your mouth."
"What? Why?"
"You're going to eat the rainbow." She grins at him.
He rolls his eyes. "So original."
Clary bites the inside of her cheek. "Okay, fine." She sets her things down and looks at him with her chin up. "I need to finish this painting anyway."
As she finishes, Jace speaks up and asks, "Why'd you come with me?"
She looks up at him, curious.
His hands close on the rusty railings looking out at the sea. The storm is well out in the middle of the ocean. She stands next to him. After a few minutes of comfortable silence and listening to the soft rumbling of the thunder, she finally speaks.
"Because on a scale from one to over-trusting, I am pretty fucking naïve."
His head whips toward her. "You don't trust me?"
Clary laughs. "I met you a week ago in a shady club after I went psycho on myself. I should be asking you that."
"I just . . . feel like you're someone I can trust."
"And I just clarified that I trust you. End of discussion."
Neiher of them speak for a while after that. Clary doesn't know if she is mad at him or he is mad at her or if anyone is mad at all. They just sit there, and she finishes her painting. The air isn't tense like she thought it would be. It is silent and comfortable, like it always is, like it ought to be. They're silent even as he bandages her arm up. As the sun sets, they decide to jump back on the road.
In the car, he says, "I want you tell me what happened to you."
She snorts. "You realize this goes both ways, right? I tell you, you tell me."
He hesitates. "Okay . . . but, not the whole story, right?"
She turns to him. "How about we each tell our stories little by little?"
He nods.
"You first," Clary says. "Who was it that scarred you?"
"No one. What happened to my family . . . was an accident. It wasn't supposed to happen."
Her eyebrows furrow. "I don't mean to sound rude but . . . what's the problem?" He scoffs. "I mean, I understand—these people were your family and died in a tragic accident, but that's all it was—an accident. How does it affect you?"
He clears his throat. "They never found the guy who did it."
"Were you there when it happened? Did anyone in your family have any enemies that might have wanted this done? Was your dad a—"
"Your turn," he says loudly.
"—psychopath?" she finish. He shoots her a sharp look. She lets out a short laugh. "Because mine was." He doesn't answer, so she continues, "He's the reason I'm so . . ." she waves her hands in the air, trying to find the perfect word.
"Yeah," he says.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Basically," she says, "I walk and the past walks with me. Like it lives."
"I already said 'yeah,'" he tells her.
"Okay."
"Okay."
It's silent once again.
She says, "Wanna get fake IDs?"
"Fake IDs?" He retorts.
"Yeah, fake IDs."
"Let's do it."
"Pull over," she grin. "I'm driving."
She knows a guy who's got this cousin who makes fake IDs. She'd met him once, and he told her she was pretty enough to get a free fake ID and she couldn't help but blush because no one had ever called her pretty before. He told her she could bring along another friend with her as long as they were as pretty as her and she blushed again. She figure since Jace is gorgeous, he wouldn't mind that he'd get the Pretty Discount too, along with a password he'd given her just in case he wouldn't recognize her the next time she saw him, even though he said that might be impossible. She blushed a lot the night she met him.
She pulls over on the side of road instead of the parking lot of the small brick building covered in graffiti. There are only a few windows on the building and they've either been tinted black or painted over; Jack, the cousin, doesn't want to attract any cops. If Clary made fake IDs and set up shop in an abandoned building on the coast of New Jersey, she wouldn't want to attract them either.
Both the front and the back doors are boarded up, again the work of Jack to keep the attention away from the building. The only way in is the window.
Jace tells me, "Are you sure this is it? Looks really shady."
"That's the point." Clary props the window open for him. She finds several tattoo-clad people throughout the small building and wonders how the hell they even got here. There was only one car outside—their own. She easily spots Jack, who's chatting up a girl who looks a little only a little older than Clary. She looks at Jace over her shoulder. His face remains emotionless as girls surround him try to flirt with him, but she can see through his façade and can tell he's uncomfortable. He catches her looking and attempts a smile. She smirks and motions with her head for him to follow her.
Clary stuffs her hands in the pockets of her jacket and approaches Jack. "Hey, Jack!"
He turns at the sound of her voice. He grins widely when his eyes land on her. "Cllarissa, baby!" Jace looks at her curiously. "Long time no see!" He holds out his arms and she hugs him. He holds onto her a second too long and squeezes way too tight. "Here for some illegal fun?" He lets go of her. His eyes trail down her body. She tries to hide her shudder.
"Yeah, this is my . . . friend, Jace." she grins wickedly at Jack and discretely winks at Jace, begging him to go along with her. "We both need some IDs. The last guy we went to in Brooklyn ripped us off."
Jack looks a bit hurt. "You could have come to me, babe." She smiles sheepishly and tries her best pouty voice. "I never found the time to come all the way out here. You know I'm still a high school student." she laughs.
"Right, we did meet at a high school party." He opens his jacket and takes out three cigarettes. He hands one to her and one to Jace. He lights his up and hands them his lighter. "Is that how you two met?"
Clary looks back at Jace as she sticks the cigarette in her mouth and lights it. He looks at his cigarette like it's from a different planet, but sticks it in his mouth anyway. She lights it for him as she tells Jack, "We met up at a club—Pandemonium. Woke up in an alley and we've been hooking up ever since." Behind her, Jace chokes—either on his cigarette or her comment, she doesn't know.
Jack laughs and slaps Jace on the back. "Can't take a little smoke?"
Jace smiles weakly. "Been a while."
Clary sends him a silent apology. She turns to face Jack. "So can you help us or not?"
"I can help you," his eyes finding Clary's again. "But him," he points a thumb a Jace. "I said, bring a hot friend."
"Look at him. You can't just stand there and tell me he's not hot." She winks at Jace, who watches her wide-eyed but recovers quickly and gives her a wolfish grin. She looks back at Jack so Jace can't see her blush. "So how about it?" She runs a finger down his chest, trying her best to look suggestive.
He sighs. "Okay, okay. Quit looking at me like that, you got me. I need your full names, your addresses, dates of birth, social number, height, weight, and eye color. Usually, they would be a hundred bucks, but I made a promise to a sexy little redhead." He turns around and motions them to sit at the table behind them to invent their new identities.
Jack turns away to talk to some other people while they work. She leans toward Jace, who sits across from her and whispers, "I feel disgusting. Sorry. I didn't know what to expect when we met Jack—I had to work fast to cover our story."
Jace smiles at her, playing with his cigarette between his fingers. "Does this mean I get to kiss you?"
Her stomach flips. "Play your cards right" she says teasingly, "and we'll see."
Fifteen minutes later, they have both come up with their new characters: she is Mary Smith and Jace is Isaac McKinley and they both turned twenty-two a few months ago. They hand the papers to Jack, and then he points to a strip of duct tape and tells her to stand their first. He tells Clary to smile and when she does, he snaps her picture and instructs Jace to do the same. Jack turns to them and says, "I'll just be a minute."
She leans against the wall and takes a drag of her cigarette. Jace leans with her but doesn't put the cigarette near his mouth again. He looks uncomfortable with it. She tells him, "You can just stomp that out," and he does so immediately. "It was only a way to fit in with them."
"With you, you mean." He says. She looks at him, head tilted, and he clears his throat. "You fit in with some of these people here. Maybe not Miss So-Fucking-Tattooed-I-Can't-See-Any-Of-Her-Skin, but I can see you hanging around here regularly."
She looks around the room and sees all of the unfamiliar faces drenched in sweat and eye makeup and inhaling the smoke of their friends' friend's cigarette. Some of them smile and chuckle among their small group of friends, but a lot of them look as lost as she feels. "I can see it, too."
She wishes she can't.
Until next time.
Imagining your lovely smiles, woodpaintedflesh.