Hey! Finally, after weeks of writer's block, I finally updated! This chapter took a lot of time and I nearly felt like dropping this whole story. So, I want to say thanks to the people who continued to support me and Glass Hearts up to this day.

A million thanks to: Golden-Iris158, SimplyLily94, loving ya, RedNights-await, AnniaAngele, lani, RoseDimitri ClaryJace for reviewing Chapter 8

Not forgetting: BMSGIRL543, treebuggies109, Ri-nocemoose, JMCullen1120, XxLilyFlowerxX, TaylorZachary, KaYlaNnE95, RedNights-await, LuVmEsUmFaNfIcS, , TaylorJade, magic noctum, firecrushed cat, lj3girls, aussie girlxoxo, thepowertobreakyou, jinmay-4-ever, Tilly96

And special thanks to: Taylor Jade, SimplyLily94, magic noctum, caligril13, loving ya, firecrushed cat, AnniaAngele, aussie girlxoxo, RoseDimitri ClaryJace, thepowertobreakyou for helping me choose what to write. You guys really help me out!

I know some of you wanted choice B but after much pondering and reading your suggestions, I realised it doesn't hurt to make this story longer for juicer storylines!

*I'm really sorry if I missed anyone out! I didn't mean too!*

Now, after a long A/N, A final thanks to Krys Berm for being my awesome Beta Reader as well as to Eri and Amber for reading my first draft.

Three years ago...

"You filthy little whore!"

The sound of Jace's father's drunken shouts rang through the corridors of the house. Jace, cowering behind the door of his bedroom, was absolutely terrified.

He could hear his mother's relentless pleading, begging her husband to stop. Jace pulled his knees up against his chest, trying to make himself smaller as if he could disappear.

He wished everything would just go away; that his father would stop beating him and his mother up. That they could somehow find a way to get away from him, but he knew that his wishes would never come true. They were just fleeting hopes, dreams, little pieces of a fairytale that would never see the light of day.

Jace closed his eyes, trying to drown out the sound of his parents' voices. He reminded himself that if nothing else, today was better than yesterday. This beating, this tantrum, this screaming, it was milder than what his father normally did when he couldn't get his fix.

He heard his mother screaming as the beating started. The sound of flesh upon flesh made him cringe, the screams of his mother sliced through him, pain shooting through his chest. But he knew he would not – could not go out to save his mother. He'd just end up nursing his own wounds.

Smashing his hands against his ears, Jace tried to block out his mother's petrified screams. But the house suddenly fell silent. The silence stretched on, and with it, brought a new wave of pure fear.

He knew the door he huddled against was locked, that his father couldn't possibly come in. Yesterday's scars were still raw and painful, yet another beating endured, etched into his memory forever.

Gripping his arms, he once again prayed that his father would leave him and his mother alone.

The sound of his mother sobbing penetrated the silence in the house. He removed his hands from his ears and pressed his ear against the door, listening for footsteps or any other signs of approach.

He wondered tensely if his father might have left. But what if he hadn't? What if he was just thinking of a new way to torment him? Had he realized Jace was hiding in his room? Jace's hands were turning sweaty from dread and fear. He tried to calm himself down, but his pulse still raced in his ears.

From behind the door came a low grunt. His father had found what he was looking for. Jace breathed out a sigh of relief. The door slammed loudly, and he knew the devil was gone. Standing up shakily, Jace unlocked his door and headed to the living room to find his mother.

She was curled up in a corner. Fresh red welts gleamed from the skin of her arms and legs and she was whimpering softly, facing the wall. She heard his sharp intake of breath and turned around – revealing bruised and bloodshot eyes and swollen cheeks and lips. Struggling to smile, she assured him weakly that she was fine.

Deep, uncontrollable fury flared up in him. This latest abuse was simply stoking the angry fire inside him. Dropping to his knees, he wrapped his mother up in his arms. He hated his father, hated what he was doing to their lives, wishing he would die or just disappear.

His mother read the anger in his eyes and shook her head slightly.

"Don't," she cautioned softly. "It's my fault in the first place."

"I don't understand."

She smiled gently back at him and brushed her lips against his forehead. "You'll understand when you grow up, Jace." She started to sit up, determined to change the topic of conversation, ignoring the pain. "Now, why don't you tell me about school then?"

Jace eyed her carefully, making sure she wasn't too seriously hurt. "I managed to get a place. They're now asking if I want to stay in a dorm." His voice was bitter and hard.

Immediately, his mother's expression brightened. "Say yes. I'll send you there now. I want you to stay away from this house, away from your father. That's the best –" She raised a hand as she saw his face turn argumentative.

"Listen to me, Jace. You will stay there and you will focus on your studies without worrying about me. I want you to live your life to the fullest; away from the devil and this hell-hole. I'll be fine, Jace. I've taken a temporary lodging with a friend and away from him," she said, struggling to keep her voice firm. She pulled him closer and hugged him again.

He could feel her tears wetting his cheek and pulled his mother closer, not wanting to let go. She smelled just as she always did – cinnamon mixed with vanilla. With a final kiss upon his cheek, she broke the embrace and stood up shakily, herding Jace to go pack his belongings.

That was the last time he saw his mother...

"Jace. Jace, are you awake?"

Jace woke up to the sound of a soft, high-pitched voice, right beside him and filled with worry. He frowned slightly. That was weird; he was pretty sure his roommate was a boy. He felt small hands shaking his shoulders and cracked his eyes open. Kneeling beside him was Clary.

He tried to sit up, when he felt a sharp pain in his head. Groaning and cursing, he slumped back down. Worry was evident in Clary's wide eyes as she gently helped him sit up. She was biting her lip, as if holding back a stream of questions.

Once he was sitting, he looked around himself. He was sitting on a couch in a living room. Rays of morning light streamed through the thin curtains and when he looked down, he saw that he was wearing last night's shirt. His eyes widened; there was no way he would sleep with a dirty shirt on.

The pain in his head had faded away. Brushing his hair away from his forehead, he grimaced and coughed; his throat was parched and tasted like sandpaper. Jace turned to Clary, who was now sitting beside him, her fingers laced behind her back.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice raspy and throaty.

"I found you outside last night, heavily drunk. Before I could ask you what was wrong, you passed out on the sidewalk, hitting your head in the process. Luke – he carried you in and set you on the couch. And then today, when I came down, you were struggling in your sleep and I panicked and woke you up," she replied hesitantly, her eyes still filled with worry.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to absorb all that she was telling him. He himself had no idea what had happened last night. He remembered he'd forgotten something – something important – and had found himself heading towards Clary's house. That was as far as he could remember.

But he did remember what had happened before that. He could clearly remember his kiss with Aline. Guilt bubbled up inside him. Clary noticed the change in his expression and touched his arm lightly, trying to comfort him.

"I'm glad you came here, and that you're safe," she said softly, placing a hand on his cheek.

More guilt. "Clary, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't come to your birthday party, or even bring you out. Hell, I didn't even buy you a gift. I screwed up, Clary, big-time. I was drunk, I spent your birthday at a club with the guys and drank liquor like it was water. And then I –" Clary silenced him with a finger to his lips.

"It's okay, Jace. I forgive you. Besides, it's just one birthday." She shrugged lightly and smiled.

"But about before – about our argument – I was just being stupid and self-centered and I'm so –"

Clary shook her head. "It's forgotten. Now, are you planning on taking a bath before breakfast? Because really, Jace, you stink like hell," she giggled. Jace arched an eyebrow and grinned, leaning closer to Clary. He was about to kiss her when he heard someone entering the room.

"Well, it seems Sleeping Beauty managed to kiss her Prince Charming awake," drawled a dry voice from behind them.

Jace glared at Damen, who was casually leaning against the doorway, his arms folded against his chest, a smirk playing on his lips. Clary noticed the icy glare and rolled her eyes. She stood up from the couch reluctantly and walked over to Damen, a warning in her eyes.

"Luke left some clothes for you, they're over there. And Mom's cooking breakfast. You're staying, aren't you?" She glanced back at him over her shoulder, a little worried he might say no with Damen here. However, Jace only shrugged and grinned at her.

"Yeah, I'll stay. It's free food," he teased, standing up gracefully as always and taking the clothes with him. With one final glance at Clary and Damen, he headed off towards the bathroom. Clary released a breath, glad he'd decided to stay.

"Told you he'd stay," Damen muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

Clary rolled her eyes and slapped his shoulder playfully. Damen simply laughed and ran his fingers through his hear, heading to the dining room for breakfast.

She watched him go, wondering what had made him come over in the first place. She didn't believe his excuse at all. It was like he wanted – needed – to tell her something, but couldn't. Sighing, she shook her head and followed him.

Clary was sitting on the bench under the oak tree in her backyard, a small slip of paper in her hand. It was crumpled from being crushed into a small ball. The scent of designer perfume still lingered on the paper.

Only one person wore this perfume, and that person was seriously starting to grate on Clary's nerves. Clary sighed and closed her eyes, smoothing out the creases of the paper. The words, neatly written, were the same words she had seen earlier, when she'd been doing the laundry.

Call me. A.

She had found the slip of paper when emptying Jace's pockets before throwing his pants in the wash. Jace had had this, kept it in his pocket. Why?

Taking a deep breath, she tried to relax and think things through. She knew she shouldn't jump to a conclusion, even though she knew what kind of person Aline was. She needed to know what had happened last night first, what had happened with Jace and Aline.

Clary stood up and headed toward the gate, the paper clutched in her hand. As much as she hated to do it, she knew it was time to pay Aline a visit and set things right.

"Where's Clary?" Jace asked from where he sat, lounging on the couch.

His question was answered with shrugs from both of Clary's parents, as if it was normal for Clary to rush off without telling anyone where she was going. Maybe it was. He wouldn't know. Sighing, he leaned deeper back into the couch, his eyes unfocusedly wandering to the television.

His mind kept replaying the kiss he had had with Aline, as if he was cursed to never forget it. He couldn't drive away the memory of how he had responded to the kiss. It had been as if she had a hold on him. Immediately, he brushed away the thought. Aline never had a hold on him. He was just drunk. That was all. It was a mistake, one he would never repeat.

"Wayland, I need to talk to you," Damen said from where he had been standing at the doorway. His voice was low, hard and furious. Jace looked up in surprise, standing up to approach him. As he walked closer, he noticed Damen's steel grip on his phone.

"Look at this," Damen bit out between gritted teeth. The anger in his voice was barely contained. Jace looked down at the phone, eyebrows arched. It was a text message from Clary.

I'm at Aline's house. Don't come and try to get me back. There are things I gotta straighten out with her.

I must be stupid.

Those four words ran through Clary's mind as she sat in the Penhallow's guest parlour – or in other words, their living room – a cup of tea clutched in her hand. With her flyaway hair and messy clothes, she stuck out like a sore thu in the neat, sophisticated room. Everything around her was spotlessly clean.

Aline was taking forever. Clary clenched her hands into fists as she waited, trying to control her annoyance. She constantly reminded herself of the reason she had come, instead of letting her emotions control her.

Jace. That was what – who she was doing this for; Jace and their future together. "You're lying to yourself, even now." A tiny voice whispered in her mind.

What was the real reason? What had made her walked into a lioness den blindly? She knew the answer to that unasked question. She wanted to know, wanted to know what happened last night. She wanted to know what happened between the bitch and Jace.

Sighing, she lifted the cup of tea to her lips. She had just taken a sip when Aline swept into the room.

This is it. No turning back now...

Thanks for reading! Please review, it'll make me really happy! XD