Clary

If Jace thought for a second that he'd be seeing me for last period, he was so wrong. The instant he had no other choice but to follow protocal and fall in line to the school's basil demographics—Grab your stuff for next class and make sure you're in your seat before the second bell rings, and the likes—I pushed his worry out of mind, beelined past my locker, and walked straight through the school's front exit. Those eyes, like burnt toffee and everything kind and warm, were almost too much to bear. I could still feel them melting into my back, and I could empathize with his internal battle; I knew he didn't want to let me go, that he was conflicted over whether I'd be doing exactly what I was now as soon as he turned the other direction. Which was running. He cared for me but, now, he knew everything.

I couldn't wait another day, much less two years, not if he went to the police or his father the second he returned home. It was a blessing he hadn't already done that, all things considering. I cursed my father on so many different levels. For not letting me drive, for not permitting me to have a phone, and for only staying away from home for so long. I had to get to Matt within the next ten minutes, convince his office ladies that our dad somehow "forget" to call-in about a dentist or doctor's appointment without risking their inclination to double check with the satanic man, and have both of our things ready to go, money and essentials, before the next two hours passed.

My side ached and well-endowed collection of bruises flared to life as I raced street cars and dodged in between Brooklyn's many day-time shoppers. I almost feared the police officers sitting inside of a passing bagel shop would notice a uniformed girl with bright hair like myself, and stop to question me about what I was doing out of school, but they were mercifully enamored in their lunch and coffee. Most other people were also ignorant, aside from the ones I all but knocked off of their feet and barreled into like a freight train. Between a poor woman I single-handedly disarmed of her many bags and Starbucks and a biker that wasn't given enough time to stop, a pile of limbs and cursing as I left him behind, I was an impeding, desperate hazard.

The elementary school was a building sandwiched between many others, shades darker than all of the rest and much taller. I could still see my mom's minivan—the old beat-up vehicle she absolutely loathed to drive because it made her feel old—as if it were still parked on the curb outside as it had every day after school until I turned seven. Her and her messy bun and frail limbs as she waved to me with a smile as she relaxed in the front seat, wearing paint-splattered overals and Matt's latest mess, it was all so clear. But the face was a blur. I couldn't remember, not even as my feet made contact with the very place she used to pick me up in.

I needed her right now more than anything. I was only sixteen—they would look for me and Matt and wouldn't stop until they found us. I couldn't think about what my father would do when I was returned to him, especially considering he'd slap me around into the next century just for leaving school when I did if he found out. My attendance would be sent to the office soon enough; would they call him then? Did I even have time at all to go back home? But, the money...I needed the money.

I flew up the majority of the stairs before slowing my pace down for the last two, smoothing down my hair and pushing in air against the strain of my chest. I was pathetic and out of shape and running on a measly scrap of food. I hadn't eaten breakfast or taken a bite out of the lunch Jordan had brought for me, and I never had the cahnce to eat the dinner I made last night either. Had I eaten at all yesterday? I felt lethargic and heavy as I wrapped a slightly-shaking hand against the school's left door handle, plastering on a tight smile just in time for the lady at the front desk to look up. She had seen me her fair share of times at this point, her kind eyes crinkling as she took in my appearance. I hoped I didn't look as disheveled as I felt. Or that I'd pass out.

"Clary," she said, stained lips spread wide and round, lively face like that of a mother's. She had to have kids of her own; her maternal air was almost suffocating. "You're here a little early."

I hesitated, moving closer as I clasped my hands together behind my back, hoping that the tremors would stop for the life of me. "My dad told me he forgot," I said, feining a playful scoff as I forced myself to keep eye-contact. If she was dubious, she didn't care to show it. "Matt had a last-minute appointment change with his dentist. Our dad was supposed to call to let you know but he must be busy with work."

Her smile faltered and my breathing stopped. Of course she wouldn't let me take my brother. How stupid could I possibly be? "Matthew has an appointment today? What time?" She was almost too dramatic and lofty, her gray eyes widening and then constricting as she expressed her thoughts with little words. But the ones she did speak were loud and peaking with a confusion that was nothing short of over-the-top.

"In twenty minutes. Well, nineteen now," I hurried to say, training my eyes onto the digital clock set up on her desk. I would do anything, really, to make my story convincing. Even go as far as to roll up my sleeves to show her the bruises left by my own father and pass them off as my frequent "street fighting" habits. I could always intimidate her if it came down to it, though I didn't have much to show for. "I should've come earlier but I had a project at school and I completely lost track of time."

She twisted her lips. "Is there anyway you could somehow get ahold of your father? I wouldn't want your brother to miss his appointment, but a legal guardian of his is required to call him out. It's a safety precaution we take with all of our students."

Time, time, time. She was wasting my time.

I wracked my brain. It was cracking shell brought down repeatedly against a countertop, unwilling to break or give up its contents. I couldn't think past the roaring in my ears or her expectant look unwavering from my face. One slip and she'd know I was lying. "I'm sure you can call him if his number is on file still," I managed, finding my smile much harder to keep in place. "But he won't answer most likely because it's his business phone number. The appointment is in fifteen minutes—I could give you his cell phone number. You could try calling him while I get Matt."

I regretted not saying that it was a doctor's appointment. A dentist appointment didn't exactly scream asperity. "He has an abscessed tooth and it's been bothering him for a while," I all but blurted.

She frowned immediately and I knew I had said the right thing. "Oh, no. That must be so terrible for him," she gushed, leaning forward and placing her own hand against her jaw. "I'll have him sent down right now." She picked up the phone situated to her left, holding up a finger with a smile and mouthing Just a minute. I smiled back, relieved like I've never been before. The woman leaned back into her chair, grinning as if she were talking to the teacher face-to-face after dialing a couple numbers. "Yes, Mrs. Dennman? Would you send Matthew Morgenstern down to the office. His sister is here to pick him up...Yes, mhmm. The poor boy has an abscessed tooth. Must've braved the pain all day—"

God, Mattie. I hope you're a good actor.

"—Have him bring his stuff with him. Thank you," she drawled, placing the phone back down into its receiver. She looked at me with exasperation, scrunching her face up in pain. "I hope they're able to get it taken care of as soon as possible. My husband actually had that same problem a couple months ago. The blessed man could barely open his mouth properly without anything hurting."

I hummed shortly, scanning the end of the hallway for my brother. Hurry up, Mattie. Please, please hurry. "We were able to get some Advil into his system before he left today," I said. "The dentist was adamant, though, that we get him in as soon as possible."

"I couldn't even imagine," she gaped, animate beyond anything else. "I can't believe he even came to school today."

"He, uh, only just now started having a problem with it. Last night, actually. My dad set up the appointment first thing in the morning and called me during a class. I'm sure you'll hear from him soon."

She nodded primly. "Don't even worry about it, sweetheart. These kinds of things do happen every now and then. Though, I must say that you look a little pale. Would you like me to grab you some water?" Her concern was practically instantaneous, as if it were a fleeting thought that she gripped onto tighter the longer she scrutinized me.

I looked down immediately, shaking my head. "No. I'm fine." Only worried and anxious and so, so scared. I still had a good hour before Jace would realize that I was no longer at school, and even then he probably wouldn't do anything about it until after class was over. That gave me two hours if this desk lady was as trusting as she was letting on. But the odds were that she would call my father within thirty minutes after I left with Matt and that he'd answer on the second or even first dial. He'd call my school then, find out that I wasn't there either, and burn the world to ashes on his way home. I had to be out of the house before then. It was life or death.

Forty five minutes. Was that what I was looking at here? Well, forty four now. Time. I needed time.

"...really, Mrs. I'm alright. It just feels like I got punched a little." Matt appeared around the corner with his exceedingly tall teacher at his side who was fussing over his newly-discovered tooth problem. These elementary school teachers were qualified to appear on day time soap operas, what with their big hair and enlarged eyes and oh-so dramatic deliveries of speech. But Matt, he was something else, talking as if he had a bunch of cotton balls lodged in his mouth and holding onto his cheek. Good boy, Mattie. His façade all but dropped the instant he saw me, though, hands falling down to either of his sides and role forgotten. "And look. There's my sister now."

Mrs. Dennman turned to me, bracing either of her hands over her heart. "You take care now, both of you. I hope your tooth feels better," she said, her voice as sweet as syrup as she reered her head to stare down at Matt.

"Thank you," I said, nodding her way and grasping my brother's shoulders as soon as he was close enough, covering up the shaking of my hands as I pulled him closer. "He should be back in a couple of days," I lied, smiling at both of the ladies before ushering Matt in front of me and turning. I took his hand in mind and led him down the massed staircase, expecting his questions to come as soon as we were out of earshot.

"Are we escaping?" Matt said, obediently going faster as we hit home against the levelled ground.

I looked at him only briefly, squeezing his hand a little tighter. "We're escaping."

"Only take things you can't absolutely live without," I panted, shutting the front door to our house behind us. Matt was already bounding up the stairs, nodding hurriedly. "Bring some clothes!" I shouted after him, leaning against the flat surface if only to catch my breath. It felt as if I were swallowing blood, the cold still stinging my ears and unforgiving lack of oxygen draining my throat. Never had I ran like that but I didn't have any other choice but to now; if it came down to it, I'd run faster and wouldn't stop until the both of us were safe from him.

This was the house we'd grown up in, between Mom's love of the kitchen—the joy she'd ooze on particular holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas as she prepared us all a whopping three-course meal—and our evenings spent lounging in the living room to watch Cinderella on repeat. Looking back at it, my dad at one point had cared about me; I was always his princess who he coddled and would drop his work in a heartbeat to endure one animated Disney movie after the next with. But I don't think he had ever been normal. Even when Mom was around, he was agitated at the smallest of things, would spend hours in the garage just making noise that my mom would pass off as him "cooling down," and drank his weekly quotient of alcohol within a couple nights.

He'd never laid a hand on any of us, though. My mom wouldn't have stayed with him if he hadn't been the man she'd fallen in love with or if she had any inclination that he endangered Matt or me. If she could only see him now, the way he did his best to completely erase her presence from our memories, paintings, pictures, belongings and all, and how he played dictator the second we were left alone with him. I wish I could see the happy times I had spent here, but there was only the shattering of glass against my skull and the painful descent to the ground. I couldn't look at the kitchen without seeing my father raising his hand into the air or cornering me against the counters or him standing so close that I could practically feel him breathing down my neck. Every second with him was a single tile away from drowning in obliterating lava.

The constant distress and unease and anxiety and fear. I wouldn't miss any of it. There was nothing here for me anymore but I would miss Luke and the kindess Isabelle had shown me, and I don't think that I'd ever forget about Jace. Things could've been different; if my mom had never died and I'd grown up with two loving parents, perhaps right at this moment I'd be inviting him over at school for dinner to meet my family. Mom would adore his effortlessly charming and admittedly cheeky smile, Dad would approve of him by the end of the night and we'd all gather around the living room to watch a flick of Mattie's choice together. I had been depraved of that normalcy, though. I would never know what it's like probably to kiss a boy and have it be my choice, or to hold someone's hand and become inflated with butterflies, or to be loved and know it. I had Matt and that was all the really mattered and I'd give up a life I had long since been denied if it meant that he could live his for the both of us.

These thoughts hit me all within the matter of a couple of seconds and they were gone in a fraction of that time; I couldn't think about what would happen in the future or if we'd ever be able to peacefully settle down without having to worry about people coming after us, or if we'd be able to freely move about into the open without eyes comparing us to missing children's posters, because, now, we had to leave. I pushed off against the front door, still on the verge of catching my breath as I made it up the stairs.

Matt was making a good amount of noise in his room, slamming drawers and moving like a bee on crack, and as I yelled to him that we had ten minutes, he appeared from his room with a bag larger than his body slung over his shoulder. My heart melted at the sight of him, my baby brother who had single-handedly served as my lifeline. I was on my knees and wrapping him into my arms between one moment and the next, pulling back to smooth his hair away from his face. He was nervous and scared but I vowed that he'd never have to feel like that again for as long as we lived, even as he managed a smile and his hazel eyes shone promisingly.

"We're going to be okay, you and me," I said.

He nodded. "I know. You always protect me and now I can protect you."

I smiled, kissing his forehead before getting back to my feet. Matt followed me to my room, grabbing clothes of mine by the handful and adding them to his bag as I searched for my secret panel, crouching back down to the floor. It lifted easily and a relieved breath escaped me as I took in the tin of money. I revelled in its weight as I lifted it into my hands, stopping at the sudden glint of the locket that remained inside of the floor. It was a gift from Jace but how wrong would it be if I took it knowing that I was leaving him behind? I hastily fastened the necklace around my neck, hoping somewhere deep down that he'd forgive me—that if I took his gift I'd always have a part of him to hold onto, of the boy that made me feel special and looked after me like no one else ever had—shaking slightly as I smoothed my hand over the lid of the box.

"How much do you think we have?" Matt called. I only then realized that he was done packing and standing silently behind me, shifting on his feet under the weight of the back.

I turned around fully upright, offering a quick smile. "Here, let me take that," I said, taking the bag from his slender arm and handing him the money in exchange. "We have enough, Mattie," I said, trying to keep my face neutral as I realized just how heavy our belongings were.

I almost expected to be tackled the instant I stepped out into the hallway, but all the quiet as we hurried down the stairs. "Let me just grab us some food," I said, sidestepping into the kitchen. The truth of the matter was that we didn't have 'enough' money spend on food along the way; I hoped that we could board the subway and settle down in a hotel on the other side of the city. We'd have to wing it from there, and maybe even hitchhike. Two things I was highly uncomfortable with doing. But, no car, not old enough, and a couple thousand dollars, and I had to take what I could get.

I quikcly unzipped the bag, stuffing it the rest of the way with granola bars. Then, the house started to hum to life, shaking everything minutely bute surely. The garage. I looked at Matt with wide eyes, feeling my heart and everything else inside plummet. "Go! Matt, leave!" I shouted, racing towards him. He shook his head rapidly, holding onto the tin so tightly that all of his knuckles were white; he stood frozen just a foot away from the front door, out of reach as the garage door just off to the side of the kitchen opened. "Matt," I whimpered, looking at him pleadingly as the pounding footsteps sounded closer. Our dad was angry. "Leave. Please. Go as far as you can—"

"Claris—" The sound was terrifying, snapping both of our heads to the left. Our father stopped abruptly, both in sound and movement, clearly not expecting to find us where he had. His massive figure seeming to swallow the threshold of the archway as his broad shoulders rose and fell roughly, his jaw clicking into place. And then his cold eyes searched us from top to bottom, from the large bag I carried and our interrupted persuit of the door. We were caught red-handed. I looked at Matt, hoping that he'd turn to run. He was a safe enough distance away that our father wouldn't be able to stop him unless he had to risk leaving the house to do so, and, besides, I had a feeling that he didn't really want to run after Matt as much as he wanted to strangle me.

"What's that in your hands?" he said, jerking his head over to Matt, eyes trained onto the tin box. I dropped my head forward, suppressing tears. He looked at me then, standing painfully close. "What does he have in his hands, Clarissa?"

I didn't bring my eyes to meet his, positioning my head towards the staircase. "Run, Mattie," I whispered. "Please. Go."

"No, the little brat isn't going anywhere," my father gritted, taking thundering strides forward to wrap a single hand all the way around Matt's upperarm. I was horrified as he yanked the box out of my brother's hands and jostled him around in his hold.

"Stop!" I demanded. "He didn't have anything to do with this."

"With what?" my father snarled, popping off the lid of the box with a manic laugh. "Money. You thought you could run from me? That I wouldn't have you back here within the hour? I told you what would happen if you ever dared to step out of line." He pushed Matt away from him, the latter just barely finding his balance before he hit the stairs. I made a move towards him but stopped as my father began to unfasten his belt. What was he doing—? "However many dollars you kept behind my back, that's how many times I'm going to whip him. Lay down on the stairs, Mattie. You've had this coming for you for a while now—"

Matt was shaking as he obediently turned over, gripping the banister like a vice. I shook my head back and forth, crying harder when I heard his little sobs growing louder in volume. "Is that why you wanted a job?" my father scoffed, pulling the belt taut between his fingers and letting the raw sound of the grating leather fill the deafeningly silent entryway. "It wasn't for 'responsibility' or 'keeping busy,' it was to plot behind my back and leave when the time came. So, what happened to make you think now was the opportune moment? Did your little Jace offer you a one-way ticket to his bedroom? You were going to go stay with him."

"No," I said, positioning myself fully in front Matt and setting my mouth. "Jace didn't have anything to do with this. You did. I won't let you hurt us again—"

He barked out a laugh, chilling my nerve endings. "Oh, I'm going to hurt you all right. So bad that I'll have to take you out of school. I'll make something clear from this point forward: you aren't leaving this house ever again, and if that means I have to chain you to a wall, then so be it. You're not going to leave me like she did."

"Watch me," I dared to say, levelling my eyes with his. My brave front was shattered the instant the tears started to fall but I refused to move or look away.

His mouth contorted as he stepped forward, head moving rapidly back and forth. He reached to shove me out of the way—or to hit me—but the second his hand was in the air I latched onto it with both of my own, digging my nails in deeply. His enraged snarl was loud enough to shake the house as he retracted his arm altogether, looking down at me murderously. "You don't know how deep of a hole you're digging yourself," he said, the crescent moons left up and down his arm bubbling up with blood.

He didn't waste a moment to snap the belt and it came so fast or hurt so much that the instant it made contact with my stomach I hardly felt a thing; only Matt's audible gasp sounded, though, as the the white-hot pain flared to life. The second the belt was at the ready to fire again, I launched myself forward, grabbing hold of his arm. He stumbled backwards, his body leaving a crack in the drywall and rippening grip yanking at my hair. "Matt! Go! GO NOW!" I screamed, knowing full well that Matt didn't have a chance if he stayed. That he'd die at the hands of his own father.

"Clary—" Matt cried, somewhere behind me but distant.

"GO!" I demanded. "Go somewhere that's safe."

I didn't register much after that as a fully-loaded fist was hurled against my side, just the sound of the front door opening and my brother fleeing the house.

Jace

It was a mistake to leave Clary. She wasn't there for physics, her empty desk like a definitive goodbye. Forever. I could hardly keep my head screwed on straight at work, especially considering it was a busy night and my coworker had bailed. Luke was left to help me out, already having snapped at me for my absentmindedness more times than I cared to keep track of. "If you don't get a move on, I swear this job of yours is riding on a fine line," he said, returning from the storage closet with a restocking of small ice cream cups.

"It's just..." I sighed, revelling in the break from the seemingly never ending stream of customers. "It's Clary, Luke."

Luke stopped at that, forgetting all about the cups to turn around to face me. "She's working the shift after you tonight. You can see her then. Hell, you can work yourself seeing as you've already managed to blend a spoon and serve someone sherbert when they clear-as-day asked for chocolate."

"No, not that," I said, removing my hat. Before Luke could pounce on me for "risking contamination" of the merchandise—because my hair was so dirty—I continued, knowing full well that the last thing he wanted to do was enage in a therapy session regarding teenage drama. "She pretty much, more or less, kind-of-had-no-choice-but-to open up about her...situation. She was scared after that, and I worried about separating from her because I just had this feeling that she wouldn't come back for our last class that we have together. I don't have her number because her dad doesn't even let her have a phone and I'm...I'm freaking out a little."

"Clary's a smart girl, Jace," Luke sighed, turning back around to clean off the countertop. "I told you to be careful with her and if she had 'no choice but to open up,' it's because you pushed it onto her. Now, I'm not saying it wasn't without reason—anyone can see that you're in love with the girl—but we could be threatening a boundary—"

"What did you just say?" I startled, looking at him nothing short of flusterdly.

Luke cocked his head over his shoulder with a smirk. "I don't have a wife and I haven't for a long time, but that doesn't mean I don't know what love is when I see it." He turned around carefully. "I think that when you see her again, you just need to let her know that you're there for her. I know this isn't what you want, but if you truly want her in your life and to remain there, you have to stop forcing something out of her that she's not willing to confide in you about. Don't think for one second that she doesn't appreciate you, either. Don't lose your patience."

"What, like she's a small kid? Luke, I care about her. I care so much about her and I'm not just going to turn my back when she blows me off. Because she's done that more times than I can count at this point. I don't want her to open up to me as much as I want whatever it is that she's going through to end."

He nodded down at his feet. "Some things are easier said than done."

I threw my head up at the ceiling as the bell to the front door signaled. "Don't go all philisophical on me. I'm not your 'young grasshopper-protege.'"

Luke couldn't hide his grin even as he turned towards the customers. "How are we doing this even—"

He stopped short as a little boy pushed past the young couple in the doorway, sprinting into the shop with tear-streaked cheeks and looking as if he'd just been through the literal wringer. Matt. "Jace!" he all but screamed, hiccuping and looking at me frantically. Oh, God. It was Clary. I knew it was Clary.

I straightened up immediately and dodged in between the counter. "Matt, buddy. What is it?" I looked down at him, crouching to grip his shoulders. "What's happened?"

"Clary. You have to help Clary—"

"She's home?"

He nodded and Luke was already guiding him over to a seat. "He's hurting her. Our dad—he's going to kill her, I think," Matt cried, leaning against Luke heavily.

I was already racing towards the door, my heart pounding like a drum. "Call the police!" I called over my shoulder.

Please be okay, Clary.

So, I think there's going to be three more chapters after this one because there's still some stuff I have to add and all. Sorry if the scene at the house was a little graphic. I'll definitely put a warning on next chapter. It's more of a showdown between Clary and Jace and Valentine, but things will be a little scary. And then, finally, happy. Or not.

Please review(:

Until next time, peace.

I didn't edit yet. Sorry.