A/N: Some of you guys asked for longer chapters so this one is longer... I think it's actually the longest chapter I've written for this story... anyway... enjoy!
WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of abuse and alcohol usage! This does not occur until later in the chapter though and everyone should be safe reading up until the -o-O-o- as there is no mentions of abuse or anything until after that. Just note that I do NOT support abuse or excessive alcohol usage.
If you wish to continue reading after the -o-O-o- that is completely your choice.
Chapter 11
Clary's POV
I sighed as I stared back at my mother through the crowded airport.
I waved back at her before I made my way towards the plane.
School had finally gotten out for winter break and I was happy that I didn't have to worry about homework and exams and all the drama that comes with being a high school student.
Jace had finally started to warm up to me and things were a lot more civil between us now. He would occasionally have a moment when he would be closed off again but they were so rare, I hardly remembered the Jace he used to be when I first arrived at the Academy.
Even though I wasn't dealing with the dramas of high school, I still had my worries now that it was winter break.
I was flying out to Florida to see my dad again. I had refused to go during the last set of holidays but this time, refusing and being stubborn just wasn't working.
Maybe, just maybe if I told my mother what was happening, she would keep me here.
No. I couldn't tell her. If I did, things would only be worse.
I could just wait for her to be out of sight and then maybe I could hide and wait for her to leave before coming out and leaving the airport... again. That wouldn't work. I wouldn't have anywhere to go and I wasn't very skilled when it came to navigating New York City.
Even if I did manage to find my way back to the academy, I would end up in trouble with my mother because the school had been told that I wasn't going to be there for the winter break. If I turned up there without my mother notifying the school of a change in plans the situation would end with a phone call to my mother.
I had to get on that plane, no matter what I thought. I would have to endure this break like I have been every other time I visited my father.
Taking a deep breath, I forced my feet to move forward with the shuffling crowd.
Two and a half hours later, I found myself searching for my luggage at the airport in Florida.
I spotted my purple suitcase and went to grab it when another hand shot out and grabbed the handle of it.
I was momentarily shocked but I regained my composure and looked up, about to snap at whoever had grabbed my bag.
I opened my mouth to say something when my eyes fell on the familiar, tall figure with dark eyes and hair so fair it was almost white - the figure of my father Valentine Morgenstern.
"Clarissa. It's good to see you again," he said with a smile that appeared to be fake to some extent.
I just nodded once and reached out to grab my suitcase from him but he jerked his hand backwards, taking my suitcase with it. "Allow me," he said. "The car is that way," he added, pointing in the direction of the car park.
"Really now? I would've thought it was parked on the tarmac with the planes," I muttered under my breath as I turned away from my father and started making my way through the crowd.
After unpacking my suitcase, I shoved the bag under my bed and walked over to the window and stared out of it.
It was a nice day outside – unlike New York where it had been cloudy and probably about to snow. The sun was shining and I wanted to go out and just explore a bit, see what had changed and just take in the area surrounding my father's home.
I hadn't been in Florida for a while and I actually missed the place even though New York would always be my home.
I picked up my sketchbook and my pencils and shoved them in a small bag before I headed outside, only to find my father on the front patio.
"Where are you going Clarissa?" he asked.
"Just out to see what I've missed, I'll only be an hour or so," I said.
"And why have you got that?" he asked, gesturing to my bag.
"I might do some drawing. A good artist never leaves home without a sketchpad and a pencil," I said. "You never know when inspiration might strike. And please, for the ten thousandth time, just call me Clary," I said before making my way across the front lawn and out onto the sidewalk that led down the street
Every time I saw my father or spoke to him, he always called me Clarissa and I had always told him to call me Clary.
I hated my full name but he didn't ever seem to pick up on that.
Shaking my head to clear it slightly, I continued walking down the street, turning at the appropriate corners until I found myself standing in the park I always come to when I visit Florida.
I may not be very good at navigating to different places but if I know the route, I'll find my way.
I walked over to one of the wooden park benches and sat down, resting my bag on my lap as I stared out at the people in the park.
They were all so happy here, unlike me. I had only left New York about three hours ago now but I was homesick. I missed my mother and my friends and the weather and I was a little scared being here.
After a while, I got up and continued to walk around and I soon found myself sitting at the edge of the small lake on the far side of the park, the clear water reflecting the blue sky that was slowly being covered with clouds.
Of course the perfect weather wouldn't last.
I decided to pull out my sketch book while I had the time and before I knew it, I found my pencil gliding across the paper, sketching the scene in front of me.
-o-O-o-
I had moved around a bit, sitting at different spots around the small lake and sketching what I saw.
I looked out across the lake and realized it looked darker than it had before.
I frowned and looked up at the sky before quickly shoving everything back into my bag and jumping up off the soft grass that hadn't yet died off from the cold winter weather.
It was already getting dark and as I moved away from the lake and the trees surrounding it, I could get a better view of the western sky. Sure enough, the sun was setting and it was lower than I thought.
I was already going to be in trouble for being out all day but if I got back after dark – as I was probably going to considering how low the sun was in the sky – I was going to be in even more trouble.
As soon as I hit the sidewalk, I pushed myself into a run, forcing my muscles to work as hard as they could.
My feet pounded against the sidewalk and I pushed myself to go as fast as possible but I soon found myself slowing as the light slowly faded and the cold night air began to wrap itself around the town.
As I found the street my father lived on, I could see better thanks to the street light on the corner and the lights that were on in the houses.
I forced myself into a run again, the cold air burning my cheeks and my nose.
When I arrived back at the house I slowly walked through the front yard and opened the door, walking inside before trying to shut the door as quietly as possible.
I heard movement in the living room to the left and I spun around, my heart racing as I took in the dark eyes and white-blonde hair.
I was relieved a moment later when I realized it was just Jonathan.
"You had me worried for a while," Jonathan said. "Dad had gone to pick you up and I wasn't home when you got back. When I got home, Dad said that you'd gone out and when you didn't come home I was debating whether or not to call the police to get a search party out looking for you," Jonathan said as he enveloped me in a hug.
Just as we pulled apart, I heard footsteps coming from down the hall.
I spun around, pressing my back against Jonathan just as our father came into view.
"Clarissa!" He exclaimed when he saw me, his dark eyes somehow appearing even darker.
I just stared at him, not sure what to do at this very moment.
"Where have you been!? You said you were only going to be an hour yet you were gone for about five hours!" he continued to shout as he came closer.
"I lost track of time, honestly, I didn't mean to be out for so long," I said, my voice shaking slightly.
I forced myself to stay strong.
My father just glared at me as he came closer and he didn't say anything until he was right in front of me.
He grabbed my bag off my shoulder and pulled out my sketchbook and tossed the bag aside.
"This," he said. "Is a waste of time!" His breath smelled strongly of alcohol.
Before I could say anything in response, his arm had flung out in a curve and my sketchbook went hurtling into the fireplace on the other side of the room, the flames destroying it merely seconds later.
I felt tears sting my eyes as I watched the paper burn to ash.
I briefly glanced up at Jonathan who was just staring at our father, clearly a bit shocked at what had just happened.
I felt my father's hand wrap around my upper arm and I could already feel the bruises forming as he yanked me away from my brother.
I cast another quick glance at my brother and I heard the impact before I felt it.
A searing pain erupted on my arm and I knew my father had hit me.
This didn't shock me though. He had been doing this ever since I was twelve. He had been drunk every time he did this so this was no different. Even though I had been expecting this, it still hurt like hell.
What shocked me was the fact that he hit me in front of Jonathan.
Whenever he hit me like this, whenever he abused me, he always made sure Jonathan wasn't home.
Jonathan's mouth dropped open as he stared at the scene in front of him in absolute shock.
Another blow was delivered to my other arm and my stomach. I felt myself stumble backwards before I felt my head hit the wall.
I managed to see Jonathan holding my father back before I passed out.
A/N: So that was chapter 11... just so you all know, I do NOT support excessive alcohol usage or abuse in any way. It is just wrong... Chapter 12 will be up soon... Review Please!
