A/N: This also may have a thousand mistakes, but I hope you enjoy! Get ready for the beginning of the end.

Chapter 10

It was a foreign feeling to Clary, being safe, but as she sat at home with her mother she was struck with the realisation that she was safe, and happy. It was a Sunday night and they were sat together working, chatting about Jocelyn's new job as Luke and Bat set up the new TV in front of them; Bat had been visiting them a lot recently, and he had struck up an unlikely friendship with Luke.

"… and I have my own studio in the centre Clary, that we can use whenever we like." Jocelyn said happily, writing down plans for her first day. Clary grinned.

"They're going to have to drag you away to teach that class." Clary laughed, and her mother smiled; the job was at a local Youth Centre and she would be teaching daily art classes to disadvantaged youths. It was an amazing opportunity, especially considering the fact that they had hired her due to her exhibition, not bothering to look into her past credentials.

Because if they had, it would raise more questions than necessary.

Clary went to bed early, waking up early in the morning to the light sound of her mother and Luke chatting; their routine had once again picked up, and not long after she woke up did her mom knock on her door and enter with a mug of coffee in her hand. Luke waved her goodbye, heading off to open the shop, and her mother set up to paint in the kitchen. The morning was going well, a feeling that Clary was growing accustomed to.

It was only when she got to school did things turn sour.

"No way is Bowie anyway near Led Zeppelin." Jace said with an indignant smirk, turning into the school. Clary scoffed, leaning her head against the window with a tired yawn. "Am I boring you?" He laughed, and Clary grinned.

"Yes, immensely. Stupid opinions tend to tire me out." She replied.

"Your obsession with Bowie is verging on unhealthy." He muttered.

"Hey!"

"Its true-"

They continued to squabble as they pulled up into the school, and Clary immediately spotted Isabelle huddled by the doors with the majority of their group, her face drawn and pale. Her arm was wrapped around Simon who looked equally panicked; the pair looked up as the car approached and made their way toward them, the others remaining by the door, whispering to each other. Simon hopped into the car in the backseat behind Clary, much to her confusion, and began to talk to Clary about their history assignment. Amused, Clary brought hers from her bag and compared it to his as he chattered aimlessly about the project. Jace had an incredulous look, but he could tell that there was something wrong by the look on Isabelle's face.

"Jace." Isabelle muttered to Jace through his open window, trying not to distract Clary. "Can I have a word…?"

Jace, slightly worried with her tone of voice, exited the car and stood beside it, lighting a cigarette and blocking Isabelle from Clary's view. He took a deep breath, then looked to his sister.

"What's up?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, and Isabelle chewed on the edge of her nail; she rarely did that, but it was a reoccurring habit through the duration of their parent's divorce.

"Jace." She whispered. "Something really bad has happened; Magnus found it because he and Alec were in early, and they tried to fix it… but they weren't in in time and they were everywhere- some people were helping but…" She was rambling at a hundred miles per hour and Jace couldn't keep up. "… but I'm pretty sure they'll be on the internet now and everyone knows, I just-"

"Izzy!" Jace cut her off, dropping the cigarette and shaking her shoulders gently. "What the hell are you on about?" He asked, an Isabelle dropped her hand into her bag, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper.

"Kaelie put these up all over the school." She whispered, handing the paper to Jace. He took it gingerly, unfolding it.

He felt a hot flame of fury curl around him as he took in the image, and when his brain caught up with his adrenaline he handed back the paper in disgust.

"Shit- what the fuck, Izzy. I don't want to see that-" He stuttered, leaning back against the car; this was the last thing he expected to happen. It was Clary, topless, unaware of the photo being taken. Not only was he disgusted by the candid, but the scars along Clary's bare skin told a story that any moron could put together; he remembered the puckered scars on her arms, the way she hated his stamping out of cigarettes, the shell of the person she has been when they had met. He felt bile rise up in his throat. "Izzy." He muttered, and she nodded in agreement. "Did you know?" He asked. She sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"About what? I knew there were photos, but Clary didn't want us to see."

"No, about… those scars." He said, and Izzy swallowed.

"That doesn't matter, Jace. That's none of our business. What is our business is the fact that my best friend has had violating pictures of her posted around the school, and now everyone has seen them." She said, and Jace tried to focus.

"Are we gonna tell her?" He asked.

"Obviously; she's about to find out anyway." Izzy growled, and Jace sighed in frustration.

"I don't want this to set her back- I mean, she's been through some shit, and now this? Who the fuck does Kaelie think she is?"

"Jace." Izzy said. "Calm down."

Jace unclenched the fists that he didn't know had formed. "What now?" He asked, knowing that that whatever did happen couldn't be good. They were interrupted by the sound of Clary's voice.

"Come on then Simon, I have to see my art teacher before class-" Clary said, ignoring Simon's protests. He had been talking nonsense about history for a good five minutes, and although she didn't want to hurt his feelings, he was starting to weird her out.

"No! Wait, I have one more question about the civil war!" Simon said, stumbling from the car; he had been the distraction, so Izzy could let Jace in on the situation, but Clary was determined to leave.

"Well, we can find a teacher on our way- I really have to get this done!" She said, and Simon caught up to her quickly. Jace and Isabelle shared a look, following on behind, and Clary smiled at the group as they approached; Maia and Aline were talking quietly to each other, Magnus watching warily as they approached.

"Did they tell you?" Magnus asked as Clary came into earshot, and Clary slowed her pace, watching everyone curiously.

"Tell me what?" She asked, and Izzy rushed to catch up with her.

"Clary!" She exclaimed, but she wasn't listening.

"Tell me what, Magnus?"

"Look biscuit, Izza wanted to tell you- " He was cut off by Isabelle's glare. She hooked an arm through Clary's and dragged her out of the circle, their group still blocking the door to the school.

"Clary, please stay calm." Isabelle said carefully, and she felt her blood turn cold.

"Isabelle, I will freak out if you don't tell me what's going on." Clary said quietly, chewing on her lip; here it comes.

Isabelle handed Clary the picture that she had shown Jace; her friends were keeping a respectful distance, looking away. Clary unfolded the picture warily, immediately scrunching it into her palm when she saw the image, scrunching her eyes to, and dropping it to the floor. She felt sick; but also, a sick sense of relief. She had known this was coming.

"How did you get this?" She asked, and Isabelle pushed her hair behind her ear.

"They were put up around school- look, I think we got most of the, but people still saw. I'm really sorry Clary."

She bit her lip and Clary sighed, reaching out to hug Isabelle; her friend was shocked, and slightly wary.

"Don't be sorry- it was Kaelie, wasn't it? That day I saw her at the store she said she was gonna get me back- as if being blackmailed wasn't enough." Clary laughed weakly into Isabelle's hair, and Isabelle pushed her back.

"Who are you, and what have you done to my overly analytical friend?" Isabelle asked. Clary shrugged her bag up her shoulder, letting Izzy link their arms.

"My life is finally going well- and even though this does suck, the only people I care about are you guys. And you're the ones that took the photo down; as long as no one asks about it, I'm good."

They walked toward the group, Jace already gone, and Isabelle held onto Clary as they made their way into school; people were staring. And it was uncomfortable, but Clary occupied herself with discussing the pros and cons of Baz Luhrman with Simon whilst Isabelle shot death stares at the student body. That was how it went for most of the day, and Clary tried to hold in her nausea at the situation. The things that she hated most about herself, on display for everyone to see.

Jace was nowhere to be seen.

Isabelle persuaded Clary to stay over at hers that night under the guise of finishing their English coursework- in reality she wanted desperately to know what had happened to Clary. But it wasn't until the fatigue and haze of sleep was settling over them did she ask.

Clary was glad of the chance to be away from her mother, because if she found out what had happened it would have set both of them back. The one thing her mother never wanted to acknowledge was the physical pain that Clary had endured. And the permanent reminders that she was left with.

"Clary." Isabelle whispered into the dark. Clary blinked; she knew that this had been coming.

"Yeah?"

"I… I wanted to know- or to ask-"

"About the scars." Clary finished for her, and Isabelle shuffled closer to her in the Queen sized bed. She tried to make out the shape of Clary, but it was too dark.

"Yeah. The scars; I told the others not to ask, and I threatened as many people as I could. But I just…" She began to well up. "What happened?"

Clary felt out for her and linked their hands- this is the one thing that she swore she would never discuss. The sort of thing that could slide from the tip of her tongue so easily, but never be taken back. It was too much to think about. But sometimes she did want to let it slip, let it be a reality to someone other than herself.

"It was a long time ago, Iz. They don't hurt." She said quietly, and Isabelle sniffed.

"But they hurt once?" She asked. Clary stiffened.

"Yeah. They did."

"I don't get it…" Isabelle sucked in a hot breath. "What are they?"

Clary couldn't find the words, the reason. She took the hand that she was holding and, for the first time, let someone other than herself feel the scars along her arms. She ran Izzy's hand alond her forearm, and Izzy held her breath.

"What…?"

"Cigarette burns." Clary whispered. "My dad… he's the reason everything around me goes wrong. He's why we are the way we are. He wasn't a nice guy, I've said that before. But he was really messed up."

"The scar… on your back…" Izzy murmured, and Clary closed her eyes.

"One time I… we had this glass table. It wasn't pretty when I smashed it." Clary said, remembering the shattering glass and sharp wood. "It wasn't pretty at all."

"Oh God." Izzy said. "Clary… where is he now. He's the one that sent those photos, isn't he?" Isabelle bombarded, and Clary sighed.

"Yeah. I don't know where he is. But he's out there… We try not to think about it." Clary said, and Isabelle rolled onto her back.

"I can see why." She said, squeezing Clary's hand. "You don't have to be ashamed, Clary. You don't have to hide."

"I know. I'm just… not ready to be that person yet. I'm not brave enough." Clary said, and Isabelle felt her eyes droop with weariness.

"I think you are. You will be." Izzy trailed off, and Clary followed suit.

…

It was three in the morning when Clary realised she wouldn't be able to escape the dreams, and so she got out of Izzy's bed. Wandering through the hallways she wondered what it must be like to live in such a large house with so few people. It was only Izzy and Jace currently here- and no one had seen Jace all day. It must be lonely, and Clary felt her heart clench. She pulled the stolen blanket tighter around her and made her way to the kitchen, knowing that a glass of water would calm her nerves, but flicking on the light nearly gave her a heart attack.

"Jace!" She gasped, taking in his figure at the open kitchen window, taking up his usual stance with a cigarette and his sock clad feet propped against the open window. He turned and smirked at her, patting the chair beside him. She padded over and sat beside him, watching the smoke unfurl from his lips.

"Where have you been?" She asked, fearing the slur in his voice. He just shook his head.

"I needed time to think." He said, taking another drag; Clary rolled her eyes at his behaviour and took the cigarette from his lips, throwing it from the open window. He laughed at her.

"That's not an answer." She said, sweeping a piece of hair from her face. He watched her carefully. "Did you see the picture?" She asked, watching his fists clench. "Is that why you left?" She asked, feeling that same sick feeling build up within her.

"Fuck, Clary." He sighed. "Yeah- yeah, I had to leave because- God, that shit is disgusting, I mean…" Clary zoned out.

He thought she was disgusting. Out of all the things that had happened today, that punched a hole straight through her.

"I know," She whispered. "That's why I cover it up." She muttered, and Jace steadied his breathing, confused.

"What?" He asked, and she tucked her knees up to her chest.

"That's why I cover it up; I know I look like a freak. I know it's disgusting." She said again, and Jace's jaw dropped.

"That's not what I meant; Jesus, Cherry, I meant that what Kaelie did was disgusting, violating your privacy like that. That shit is unacceptable. You're…" He gulped. "You're the opposite of disgusting, okay, and I would never think that of you. Ever." He said, looking her straight in the eye. "I had to leave school because I needed a day to convince myself not to hit a girl."

Clary remained silent, still feeling hot shame swell around her.

"You don't think I'm a freak?" She asked, and Jace rolled his eyes; before she knew what he was doing he was pulling off his shirt, and Clary snapped her eyes shut, clapping a hand over her eyes for good measure.

"Jace!" She found herself exclaiming for the second time, and she heard him chuckle lowly.

"Get your damn mind out of the gutter, Fray, and take a look." Jace said, and Clary reluctantly opened her eyes. Jace was facing away from her, a hand on his neck. Clary gasped.

The first thing that she noticed was the thick black lines that ran across his back, his lower shoulders. A tattoo. Swirling in prominent lines across the arch of his back, the lines of his muscles; but beneath the tattoo were a collection of raised lines, paler and more puckered than the rest of his tanned flesh. She couldn't help but take in his muscles, but the scars were what bothered her. She reached out to touch them, running a finger along the black, curving lines. She felt him shiver, and he turned his body to look at her.

"I don't think you're a freak. You're the same as me." He muttered, running a hand through his hair. Clary looked back to the tattoo questioningly.

"How… what happened?" She asked, and he shrugged back on his shirt.

"I was in two foster homes before the Lightwood's adopted me. Not for long- just long enough for one carer to lose his temper a couple of times. Or all the time." He said nonchalantly, and Clary blanched. "I got the tattoo last year; I was sick of people staring in the showers, so I gave them something to stare at." He said, and Clary felt a small grin spread across her face. He laughed.

"What are you smiling about?" He asked, and she grinned wider.

"What's the opposite of disgusting, then?" She asked, feeling that there was too much heavy to pick up at that time, instead addressing his earlier comment. She could have sworn that he blushed.

"You know." He said, and she felt her face grow hot.

"You are too, you know." Clary said weakly, hoping that her voice didn't give away how overwhelmed she felt. He raised an eyebrow. "The opposite of disgusting."

He laughed at that, a sound that Clary liked, and he bumped her shoulder.

"You don't have to be scared. Or ashamed; everyone has scars." Jace said. "I bet everyone has their own shit at our school; there's a whole bunch of freaks in that place." He laughed without humour, and Clary looked to her hands.

"I don't have tattoos covering mine… they're always there. Always reminding me that-" She stopped. "That it happened. That I was small and weak for so long. They remind me that I'm broken."

"You aren't broken. I don't believe that for a second."

Clary buried her head in her hands, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"I am though… I can't do things everyone else can. I'm so afraid all the time, I attract bad luck. I wish I was normal." Clary whispered, and Jace slung an arm over her shoulder, hugging her. She smiled softly.

"Screw normal; when we first met you would have jumped out of your skin if I even tried to talk to you, and now you ride in my car and sleep in Izzy's bed, and sing badly in other people's showers." He said, and she laughed. "You're not the same person you've always been. And one day, you won't even remember being scared." He said. Clary leant her head against his warm chest, smiling. Maybe one day she could prove him right.

…..

The next few weeks Clary kept her head down; people whispered as she walked past, and she felt as though she had stirred up so much drama in the few months she had been here that it wasn't really surprising. It did help that most days she was never alone- when she was with Simon he would have her laughing too hard to care, and Isabelle shot glares at anyone within ten feet of them. Magnus was her favourite chaperone- his outfits had become so outrageous that when he was around, no one was talking about Clary.

"I don't see why I'm ever going to need Trig." Clary groaned, putting her head down on the lunch table. Jace laughed from next to her, and Simon put down his pen in exasperation.

"Let's just say, if you don't pass then you won't need any subjects. I don't think they ask for your grades at McDonalds."

Isabelle and Aline laughed at her despondent look, and Clary closed her book.

"You know, maybe I will just join the fast food conglomerate. At least I would get free fries." Her phone began to ring and Clary pushed her way up from the table, checking the caller.

"I'll be back in a minute- it's my mom." Clary said.

"Do you want me to come with?" Isabelle asked, and Clary shook her head.

"No, she's probably just telling me she'll be home late." Clary said and made her way out of the loud cafeteria to the slightly quieter courtyard.

"Hey mom, did you get my text about dinner?" Clary asked, but before her mother could reply a loud bang came down the phone, followed by a flurry of voices.

"Clary? Clary! Listen to me, don't come home." Clary's mom said, and the fear in her voice made her blood run cold.

"Mom?"

"No, listen. Don't come home- go to the shop, find Luke. I'll be okay." Her mother continued, and Clary felt her breath quicken.

"This isn't funny, Mom…"

"Just listen!" Something crashed to the ground in the background, and Clary felt tears well up in her eyes. "I love you. And whatever happens, I'm going to keep you safe."

Another loud bang came through the phone.

And then nothing.

"Mom… Mom?" Clary felt the panic rise with her voice. Someone was at her apartment. Without thinking she dropped her phone, not caring as it fell to the floor, and broke into a run. It seemed fitting that as she hit the streets the sky opened up, rain falling steadily as she ran toward home. The one thing her mother had told her not to do was the one thing that she needed to do- go home.

The cold drops soaked into her skin, into her bones, and Clary's breath came erratically as she pounded down the sidewalk, cutting through every alley she knew. But the second she arrived on her street, she knew she was too late.

The front door to the apartment building was hanging off a hinge, and the signs of a struggle was clear as Clary entered the building; the wallpaper had been ripped, as though someone had tried to grab a hold, and the ugly cheese plant that her mother and her always laughed at was upturned, the pot smashed.

"Mom!" Clary screamed as she ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Her neighbour Dorathea's door was open, and her own door was smashed in. Clary's heart sank. Running into Dorathea's apartment she saw her neighbour lying on the floor, unconscious. Clary rushed to her side and took her pulse; after she had made sure she was still breathing she got to her feet again, running next door.

"Mom?" She whispered, entering the apartment; almost everything was upturned, thrown from where it should be. The television sat smashed on the floor, and all around her there was broken glass. She walked cautiously through the rooms; both her and her mother's rooms were open, but the bathroom door was smashed in from the outside, swung open lopsidedly. Clary fell to her knees, shaking.

...

"Where the hell is she?" Isabelle said; Clary had been gone for over ten minutes and the bell for class was about to go. She checked her watch. "You know what, I'm gonna go get her. If we're late for Hawethorne's class we'll be stuck with the sucky desks at the front." Isabelle said, getting to her feet. Jace looked up from his book; she had been gone for a while. He got to his feet too, picking up both his and Clary's bags before falling into step with Isabelle.

"I'll come too- I'm heading that way anyway."

"Where did she go?" Izzy asked, checking her phone, and Jace shrugged.

"I don't know… she usually just sits in the courtyard behind the main block when she's alone." He replied.

"Okay, we'll check there- if she doesn't show up soon though I'm just going to have to head to class."

They walked toward the courtyard, and Isabelle looked around, huffing.

"Okay, she's not here, and it's raining. I'm heading out." Isabelle said, but Jace stopped her.

"Wait- isn't that her phone?" Jace said, picking up the device that sat alone in the wet courtyard the screen crack. Jace flipped I over, turning it on. "It's broken." He said quietly. He looked up. "This is hers, isn't it?"

Isabelle looked pale and nodded.

"Where is she?" She asked, looking around, and Jace looked around.

"Something… something must have happened." Jace said; he looked up at Izzy. "I've got a bad feeling."

"Me too." Isabelle said.

"Ditch?"

"I'll drive."

It took then less than five minutes to navigate the daytime traffic to Clary's apartment, and Jace was out of his seat before Izzy had pulled the parking break.

"If she isn't in we'll go to Luke's store." Isabelle said, and stopped in her tracks.

"Jace- the door's gone." She said, looking into the apartment building. Jace looked to her, then broke into a run, jumping over the fallen plant and sprinting up the stairs.

"Clary!" Jace yelled, pounding up the same stairs that Clary had before him. Isabelle was behind him, phone in hand as she dialled the police. They passed Clary's neighbour's apartment and Jace quickened his pace when he saw Clary's open door. He stepped in, déjà vu hitting him as he took in the mess of Clary's apartment.

"Oh god." Isabelle said, her high heeled boots crackling over the broken glass. "Clary!" She shouted, but Jace was already moving through the rooms; he didn't need to go far. Clary was on her knees in the bathroom, holding onto a piece of fabric.

"Clary-" Jace said, crouching down beside her. The sound of Isabelle talking down the phone could be heard faintly, and Jace pushed the hair from Clary's face. There were no tears, just a blank stare. "What the hell happened?" He asked, and Clary looked up, her voice lifeless.

"He's back. And my mom-" She looked down at the fabric. "She's gone."