To the anon who told me to hurry up with the story: im sorry, im a filler whore
I woke up with a start; my heart was racing, and I was covered in a thin layer of sweat. It felt like I couldn't breathe, my night terrors had been getting worse and worse. I had to get out of this room, there wasn't enough air in it. I ripped my covers off and sprinted out of my room, and then out of the apartment. I didn't even bother to close the door behind me. I flew down the stairs before bursting out onto the cold winter street, my breath coming out as white puffs in from of me. I collapsed to my knees, the cold snow on the ground starting to melt because of the warmth coming off of my skin. The chill helped clear my mind, and the last bit of the dream slipped out of my consciousness, allowing me to have a little more peace. Snow was falling in flurries from the sky, taking me back to childhood when everything was fine. I got up from the floor and wiped my hands on my oversized pajama shirt, getting rid of the melted snow. I turned to walk back into my apartment when my foot caught on a broken beer bottle.
"Fuck!" I hissed, instantly bringing my foot up and hopping over to my doorstep. The crimson blood stained the crisp white snow. I covered the wound with my hand, applying pressure to try and slow down the bleeding.
I somehow managed to get up the stairs and into the bathroom where the first aid kit was. I opened it up only to find that it was completely out of bandages. "Fuck!" That word seemed to be the perfect way to display my emotions. I crawled into the kitchen and grabbed a paper towel roll, wrapping up my foot with it. Afterwards I grabbed the ductape and used it to keep the paper towel on my foot. I crawled back to my room and grabbed a pair of socks out of the top drawer of my dresser and pulled them over both feet. Pants were the next thing I had to get. I opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a pair of plain back leggings. Then a sweater from my closet, a windbreaker, a scarf the size of a blanket, a hat with a big pompom. My hair fell around my shoulders in tangles, but I didn't care enough to run a brush through it. I grabbed my backpack and pulled on a pair of old white sneakers. I didn't bother locking my door on the way out, and soon I was starting on the path to my local convenience store. My foot burned, and I couldn't put pressure on it for very long before pain shot up my leg, but I managed to figure out a rhythm that allowed me to walk semi-normally while staying away from pain. The familiar bell rang as I pushed open the door to the store and my shivering was soothed with the blast of heat. I walked straight to the first-aid section of the store, grabbing gauze, band aids and rubbing alcohol before bringing it up to the counter.
I was behind a guy with broad shoulders, his jean jacket fitting him snugly and giving me a sight to ogle at. It helped my boredom of standing in line. Soon he was at the counter, his voice was rough and familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. I wish I could have though, at least then I would've known to turn and run. But it was too late, Jace turned around to leave to store but stopped once he saw me. My breath caught in my throat and I dropped the first aid supplies that I had in my hands. Fuck.
I got on the ground to pick them up, and he followed me, handing me the gauze. "Hey, you okay?" He asked. I looked up to meet his eyes, my brow furrowed. Maybe I had seen him wrong, maybe this wasn't Jace. If it was he would not be this nice to me.
The eyes I met were glazed and bloodshot, but they were the same tawny eyes that I had fallen in and out of love with. He was stoned, I could tell by the smell that surrounded him and the products that he was buying: chips, candy bars and peach rings. "Yeah. I'm fine." I told him, reaching to grab the gauze. I paused when I realized my mistake; I had rolled up my sleeves slightly when looking for the bandages and when I reached out, my wrist was exposed. My eyes flashed to Jace to see if he had noticed. By the confused look on his face I gathered that he had, so I snatched the gauze from him and stood up, pulling my sleeves down in the process before I rushed to the register.
"King small Belmont." I muttered to the cashier who I knew wouldn't bother to check my ID. I pushed the money due over to him, stuck the cigarettes in my jacket pocket before grabbing my bag. Jace was still in the store with a distraught look on his face, I tied to brush past him to go outside but he followed me out of the store and grabbed my arm.
"What the fuck Clary?" He practically growled.
"What?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
"Those fucking cuts on your wrist, that's what. What are those?" He asked again, his eyes that were formally glazed over had a clarity to them, he was a man on a mission.
"Cat scratches." I told him, trying to pass him again. He grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me against the wall. "What the fuck Jace?"
"You don't have a cat." He stated, his eyes boring into mine. His hands had moved to my biceps as he pinned me against the wall.
"It was a stray." I said through gritted teeth. "Why do you care?"
"Because you have cuts all over your goddamn wrists." After he said it, his face softened, one of his hands coming up to caress my cheek. "Baby why do you have cuts all over your wrist." His voice had lost its gravely edge and had gained the same softness that it used to have when we were together. I couldn't take it, I hated his false sensitivity towards me.
I slapped his hand away from my face and pushed him away from me. He stumbled back, not expecting the sudden push. "I told you. Stray cat." I was fighting back tears with everything I had.
"Clary…" His voice dropped off when the sound of people shouting his name came from the street. A black BMW had pulled to the curb, and out of the window hung Jordan, one of Jace's jock buddies.
"Let's go pretty boy, we're hungry." He burst into giggles after he said this, and it wasn't hard to guess what the boys had been up to. Jace turned towards him, a fake smile on his lips. I took the chance to get away, and slipped into the alley beside the shop that led directly to my street.
"Just a second guys." I heard Jace respond to his friends, but I was gone when he turned to find me.
Jace's POV
My mind was still reeling from what I had learned. I know she said that it was from a stray cat, but I didn't believe her. Although, I was pretty stoned when I saw those marks on her wrists, and I still was. Maybe I had seen it wrong, maybe I was making mountains out of mole hills. Eithr way, I knew I wasn't imagining the fact that My hand fit around her bicep with ease. I has scrapes on my fingers from the brick on the wall that I had pushed her against that proved to me that I wasn't crazy. These days, she was almost a skeleton.
When I was with Jordan and the crew I smoked more, trying to get the image of her damaged skin out of my head. By the time I got home, I was higher than a kite. Making it up the stairs was harder than I had anticipated, by the first landing I had to take a break and sit down. I don't know how long I was there for when Alec found me. He was on his way to get a glass of water when he tripped over my legs.
"Jace, why the hell are you in the middle of the hall?" He asked, I knew he and Izzy had a lot less patience for me now than they did when we were children. But I cared about what other people thought of me, Izzy cared about social justice, and Alec didn't care about anything. So when we went into high school, we separated from the tight group we had previously been. The more popular I had become, the more of an asshole I was and the more Alec and Izzy began to hate me.
"Just taking a break." I told him, rolling my head to the side to look up at him. I rolled too much to the side though, and ended up falling over, and who wouldn't giggle after that happened? Alec apparently.
"Jesus Christ." He muttered, letting out a sigh before he got down to my level. "Come on, I'll help you get to your room."
He was clearly fed up with me, I had been coming home drunk as a skunk and baked like a cake almost every night for the past two weeks. Robert and Maryse were out of town for business, like always, and I was taking full advantage of it. But nevertheless, Alec grabbed me and pulled me up, letting me lean on him as we made it the rest of the way to my room, where he dropped me on my bed.
"She got attacked by a cat." I told him. He scrunched his eyebrows up at my question, clearly confused.
"Who got attacked by a cat?" He questioned.
"Clary."
"She got attacked by a cat?" He looked at me as if I was crazy.
"Yeah, she had all these scratches on her wrists." I told him. "At first I thought that it was something worse, and I didn't believe her when she told me a stray cat attacked her, but man I'm so fried right now, I was probably just making things worse than they were." I patted his shoulder, nodding my head lightly. But his face had visibly paled.
"Clary had scratch marks on her wrists?" He asked, concern lacing his voice.
"Yea, I saw her tonight she was getting bandages. Her wrist was all scratched up, kinda looked the way yours did, so I got worried. But she told me that it was a cat. I'm glad it was just a cat." I smiled at him before leaning my head back on my pillow and closing my eyes.
"Yeah Jace," Alec sighed. "Just keep on believing its just a cat."
Then I passed out.
