Chapter 13:
Clary dressed as she normally did for school, jeans, converse, a t-shirt, and her hair down in curls. When she walked into school, everyone turned to watch her walk down the hallway. This seemed normal at first because everyone usually stared at the beautiful Clary Fray. That is until someone coughed out the word slut as she walked by. Clary stopped in her tracks and turned around to face the girl, Aline. Clary would never be a slut, not like Sofie wanted her to be, to call her such is a serious offence.
"Excuse me?" Clary asked narrowing her eyes at Aline.
"You heard me," the girl responded, stepping forward to face Clary. "You're a slut, a whore, a skank."
"Oh, am I a harlot as well?" Clary asked sarcastically.
"A what?" Aline asked, furrowing her brow in confusion.
Clary threw her arms out to the sides in exasperation, looking around at her friends faces to see if they knew what a harlot was, but all their faces carried blank expressions. "It's really a simple word, you should all know it. A harlot is a loose woman," Clary tried to explain. Their expressions didn't change. "It's like a prostitute," Clary tried again.
"Oh, then yes, you are a harlot," Aline stated.
"Can I ask why?" Clary inquired.
"Sebastian told everyone what you did, how you came onto him," Aline leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "how you begged for him to have sex with you then basically ripped his clothes off. He's telling everyone how easy you were." Clary jerked her head backwards and stepped away from Aline.
"Fuck you," Clary said before she stormed down the hallway, Aline's laughter echoing in her ears.
As Clary walked down the hallway boys would make obscene gestures and use vulgar words. What an immature bunch of twits. All Clary wanted to do was walk up to Sebastian and knock his teeth out. She came upon the door to her classroom and slammed it open with more force than necessary.
When she entered the classroom, a hush fell upon the students as they stared at her as she stormed to her seat. The teacher wasn't here yet, so everyone was free to talk about her and make fun of her. No one actually confronted her directly until one boy came forward. He came towards her desk and rested his hands on it.
"So," he said in a low voice, "do I get my share of you?" He licked his lips and looked her up and down. Clary felt violated as she cringed away. She stood up sharply and brought her hand down on his cheek, the slap resounding in the now silent room.
"If you ever talk to me, or so much as look I me again, I swear to God I will kill you," Clary snarled. She kicked him in the nuts before gathering up her stuff and walking out the door, hoping she got her message across.
Clary raced home and took out her sketchbook, hoping to vent her feelings in her drawings. She pressed her pencil to the paper, waiting for inspiration to hit, but it never did. She didn't know how long she sat there staring at the blank piece of paper, before she couldn't handle it.
Clary stood up and raced to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face to clear her head, only it wasn't working. She gripped the sides of the sink tightly as she looked up and found her own green eyes staring back at her.
Finally, Clary couldn't stand to look at herself any more, broken in more ways than one, my father beat me physically and my mother beat me mentally. What a life, Clary thought dryly. Her eyes started to fill with tears, but she didn't let one fall. The only time she'd ever cried about this was the first time her father hit her and her mother called her ugly; from that day forward, Clary promised never to cry.
She tried to smile in the mirror, her perfectly fake smile, but this time it didn't look right; she looked damaged. Clary's hands shook as she continued looking at herself. She was fat, she was ugly, she was short, she was a nerd and a geek and a freak, and right now, she hated herself. Her parents hate her, she hates herself, everyone should hate her. Clary's hands closed into a fist and she smashed her hand into the mirror, effectively shattering it into pieces. It was then that the tears started to fall as she clutched her hand to her chest. It didn't hurt as much as it should, though that may have been because she was numb. Clary stumbled back into her room, her tears blinding her, her mind clouded from the emotional pain.
Clary reached her window and opened it, the cool night air blowing over her face, before she climbed out. She raced over to the house that stood a few blocks away and stood outside it, sobbing. She made her way to the front door and knocked, not even thinking about what she was doing. When Jace Wayland opened the door, he was a little more than surprised to see the stone cold, fiery red head at his front door, in shambles. When he took her in, from the tears to the bloody hand, he immediately brought her inside.
"Clary," he murmured, placing his hands on her shoulders and trying to look into her eyes. "What happened?"
Clary just shook her head, unable to speak through her closed up throat.
"Clary I need you to tell me what's wrong," Jace said softly.
"I'm sorry," Clary shook her head, "I'm sorry," Clary let out a sob as she gripped his t-shirt. "I shouldn't have come here."
"It's okay," Jace said, brushing her hair back so he could see her tear stained face and red eyes. "Did you want Isabelle?" Jace asked softly.
Clary gripped his shirt tighter and shook her head no.
Jace's eyes widened slightly, but gently pried her hands off his shirt. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said softly.
Clary nodded and sniffled, allowing herself to be led to the bathroom. He sat her down on the toilet and began rummaging for bandages, disinfectant and the like.
"Okay," he said kneeling down in front of her, "this might hurt a little."
"Comparatively, I shouldn't even be affected," Clary muttered.
"What was that?" Jace raised an eyebrow.
"Nothing, just a little joke I made to myself," she grinned at him, but it looked out of place considering she was just bawling two minutes ago.
"Alright, brace yourself," Jace said before he slowly pulled a shard of glass from Clary's hand. "I personally feel as though we should go to the hospital," Jace said.
Clary scoffed, "I hate that place, let's not go to the hospital."
"C'mon Clary, what if you need stitches or something?" Jace said.
Clary sniffled and shook her head, "No."
"Alright," Jace conceded. He applied the disinfectant and wrapped her hand in a bandage and sat back, "done, and to perfection I must say," Jace smiled.
"Ah, yes, it works nicely," Clary lifted up her hand and admired the bandaging work.
"Now, tell me what happened," Jace coaxed.
"I…I had a rough childhood, so to speak," Clary began. "It's hard for me to explain because every time I think about it my chest tightens and I feel like I can't breathe. I can't speak about it because I'll burst into tears. But, I'll try to tell you." Clary took a deep breath and sat back, adverting her eyes from Jace's burning gaze. "My mother left us when I was eleven. I had thought I had the perfect family, but what didn't know was that my father was abusing my mother. When she left I didn't know why, that is until my father got remarried. That was when he started hitting me. And my step-mother would push my mind to the point where I wanted to kill myself." Clary's voice broke and her eyes watered.
"I had no one and I had nothing to live for. The only reason I'm still alive right now is because I wanted to know why my mother left me to that monster when she knew. She knew he would turn to me when she was gone. Why she sentenced me to her fate while she ran free. I was so determined to find her and ask that wretched woman why she would do this to me, her own daughter." Clary laughed, a sound that was full of nothing, like it was hollow, void of actual emotion.
"For five years, I was submitted to the torture of my 'family'," Clary spat out with malice, "when my actual mother showed up on my doorstep with the police, you could imagine my surprise. She took me in, and I hated her." Jace listened to Clary's voice fill with anger and disgust. Watched as her eyes welled with tears. "We stayed in my father's house for the rest of the year and I acted out in school and got in more fights that I can count, but it helped relieve the pain. The principal, the teachers, the students all pitied me because they all knew what happened, and I despised that. She sent me to therapy then for senior year my mother packed us up and shipped us to New York City, where I met her lovely husband. And that's where I'm at now."
Clary grinned, but the tears tracking down her cheeks indicated that she felt anything but happiness. "I hate her so much. I hate him so much," Clary breathed, looking up as her tears blurred her vision. She gasped as an excruciating pain clawed at her chest. She knew this feeling, and quickly looked around for her sketchbook. As soon as she realized she didn't have it, she panicked. It felt like the room was closing in on her, her vision was tunneling. Clary blinked and clutched at her chest before her eyes slowly closed and she passed out.
Jace quickly picked her up and carried her upstairs to his room. He laid her gently on the bed. Jace waited next to her for a while, waiting for her to wake up. It wasn't until an hour later that Jace noticed Clary sweating, her red hair plastered to her neck and forehead. He jumped into action, putting his forehead against hers to find that she was scorching. He left Clary to find a cloth and soaked it with cold water before placing it on her forehead. He stayed next to her trying to stay awake, but soon exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep.
When he woke up, the first thing he saw were startling green eyes.
"Good morning," she said, a small smile on her face.
"Hello," Jace looked around in confusion to see was lying on the floor and clary was leaning over his bed to look down at him. Jace groaned and arched his back, stretching his arms out. To his satisfaction, he heard his bones pop. Jace got up off the floor and checked Clary's temperature again by pressing their foreheads together. He dismissed her blush and went to get another cold cloth because she still had a fever, though not as high as the night.
As soon as he put the cloth to Clary's head, Isabelle barged into his room. "Jace," she shouted, "we have to go to…" Isabelle trailed off as she saw Clary in his bed. "Holy shit," Isabelle cussed and put her hand to her head like she was going to faint, "Holy mother fucking shit," she took a step back and bumped into the wall. "You slept with my brother?!" Isabelle exclaimed, throwing her arms out.
Clary didn't even blink. She just groaned and burrowed herself further under the covers. Isabelle stormed forward and reached out to rip the covers off Clary when Jace grabbed her wrist. Without saying a word, he dragged Isabelle, fuming, out of the room.
As soon as the door closed behind them, he let go of her and began to speak, "She's sick, with a fever. She's not going to school today, and neither am I. We did not sleep together, she just came here looking for my help. That's all."
"Why would she go to you for help?" Isabelle asked, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest.
"I don't know. I'm surprised as well, but that's beside the point," Jace waved off her suspicion.
"Then what is the point?"
"The point is that I'm not going to school so I can help your friend in pain," Jace said slowly.
"You're describing this strangely," Isabelle muttered.
"That's all, goodbye," Jace opened the door to his room and slipped inside. He opened his mouth to explain to Clary, but she was already asleep.
When Clary next woke up, Jace wasn't in the room. She got up and stretched her muscles before cautiously creeping the door open and walking out of his room. When she didn't see anyone in the hall, Clary continued downstairs. Soon, she smelled something delicious in the air, and heard a light humming. She followed the sounds and found herself in a lavish kitchen. And standing at the stove was none other than Jace, cooking something in a pot and humming to himself.
"Hello," Clary greeted, her voice thick with sleep.
"Oh Clary," Jace exclaimed in surprise, "you're up."
Clary nodded and rubbed her eye with the heel of her hand. "What're you making?"
Jace shrugged nonchalantly, "just some chicken noodle soup since you weren't feeling well."
Clary bit down on her bottom lip to hide her smile, but a grin broke through, "you care about me that much?" Clary cocked her head to the side, that silly grin still on her face.
Jace lost his smile and his face took on a pained look. "Don't torture me like that."
"Wha-" Clary was cut off when Jace began to speak again. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, messing it up.
"You know what I mean, you know how I feel," Jace looked away letting his hair fall into his eyes to hide his expression.
"I didn't mean to…" Clary trailed off, unable to convey her thoughts.
"Of course you didn't mean to," Jace said sarcastically.
Clary turned her head away form him, "you don't act like it during school. You ignore me until…until I'm in trouble, then you appear."
"That's because you told me you didn't like me," Jace stated. When Clary didn't respond, he continued. "I help you because you're too weak to handle anything on your own."
It was an insult that cut deep in Clary's heart, especially coming from him. "That's only because everything they do and say reminds me of-of Valentine and Sofie."
Jace let out a breath of a laugh, "my parents were both killed right in front of me. I watched as a man came and shot them both, then watched as they bled to death. At least you have parents."
"At least your parents loved you until the very end," Clary snarled. Jace was provoking her in a subject that he knew she couldn't handle well. He wanted to make her angry.
"You have a mother and a step-father who love you, you're just too blind to see it," Jace shot back.
"And you're a hypocrite. Your family is the Lightwoods, all of whom care for you."
"Open your fucking eyes Clary; you resent your mother, but you're lucky you even have one. Both of your parents still alive, mine are both dead."
Clary slammed her fist down on the table, "my parents abused me, my mother left me. I am one lucky child. All I ever wanted was for my parents to hate me," Clary said sarcastically, sneering. "You're an asshole. Fuck you." Clary walked out the door, not once turning back.
Jace went to his room, and the soup was forgotten.