Sorry if the sex thing was a little disturbing...But hey, there's three girls at my school (8th Grdrs) that r pregnant.

This chapter is a flashback, so it's going to be a little short...

Clarissa Morgenstern crept silently through the manor's empty and dangerous hallways, her bottom lip bleeding.

She'd gotten in a fight with one of her father's gaurds, who'd been feeling up on Alexis, trying to rape her.
Alexis had been her friend since they were little, and were always sticking up for eachother.

Clarissa swallowed hard, fiddling with a loose strand of hair.

Clancy had been her father's favorite bodygaurd, which didn't help her nerves.

She'd killed him, stabbing him in the gut with the switchblade she'd secretly carried around for protection.

Clarissa hesistated outside of her father's office, gulping silently before gathering up her courage and knocked lightly on the door.

Valentine's voice was blank and cold as he said in a quiet voice, "Come in, Clarissa."

She squeezed her eyes shut, and entered the room.

Her father's office was large, with stacks up books aligned on the walls, cages in the walls, and a large oak desk in the center.

He looked up at her, his black eyes empty. "Have a seat."

She stood instead, glancing around the room to avoid eye contact with him.

Valentine took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he fought to gain control over himself. "Clarissa," he began, and stopped himself.

Clarissa rolled her eyes and motioned for him to continue.

"You've known Clancy since you were what, seven?"

Clarissa didn't look at him.

"Clarissa," Valentine said in his slick voice. "Look at me."

She looked up, emerald meeting onyx.

His eyes held her, refusing to let her drop her gaze.

"Tell me, Clarissa," he said suddenly, picking up a knife and exaiming it. "How does it feel, to kill somebody?"

Clarissa stared at him, not speaking. But in her mind, she was screaming, Fuckin' phsyco! Screwed up, perverted, phsyco!

"I asked you a question, Clarissa," he said, his voice hard.

Clarissa nibbled on her bottom lip. "I didn't like it," she admitted.

Valentine cocked an eyebrow, his expression scornful. "Really?" he asked in a dubious voice.

Clarissa nodded. "Yes, Father."

"Beause I think," he paused for effect, glancing at her. "That you and me, are so very alike, Clarissa."

She stared at him. Say what, now?

"Me and you, we don't care what others think," he stopped once more, checking her reaction, which was calm and blank.

"We are stubborn, stubborn and cruel," he went on, while Clarissa carefully controlled her expression.

"We enjoy the misery, and suffering of others who displease or disgust us-"

"STOP." Clarissa stood up, knocking her chair back to the floor.

Valentine looked up, smirk on his lips.

"I am not just like you. I'm not, and I sure as hell won't ever be," she said furiously, her curly red hair framing her face looked as fiery as flames, her cheeks flushed with excitement and anger.

Valentine didn't seem surprised by her little outburst. "And, just like me, you have an uncontrollable temper, which you take out on other people."

Clarissa stomped her foot in exasperation, wanting to scream.
"I am not JUST. LIKE. YOU."

She stomped her foot for each word.

Valentine pursed his lips. "And just like me, you take your self-hatred out on other people."

Clarissa blinked, staring at him in clonfusion. "Self-awhata?"

He exhaled irratibly. "Self-hatred, Clarissa. You and me, we both have it. You just have a little bit more. And that," he added, leaning in to whisper in her ear. "Is what will kill you."

Clarissa drew back, flinching as if he'd slapped her. "I do not hate myself," she whispered, her throat slightly clogged.

Valentine nodded with sympathy, though she could tell it was fake. "Yes, Clarissa, you do. You let yourself be raped on a weekly basis-" he held up a hand, silencing her. "You are friends with a serving rat who's raped your brother, and you killed man out of anger."

"It was out of self-defense-" she protested feebly, but again, Valentine cut her off.

"So why not use your other weapons, say, vocal? You could've screamed and me and your mother would've saved you."

Liar. Clarissa didn't say anything, knowing that she'd already lost a battle.

"You are a murderer, Clarissa. Whether you know it or not."

If she had been smart, she would have left, then.

But because she was stressed out, upset, and pissed, Clarissa didn't leave. Instead she threw another tantrum.

"Oh, yeah?" she challenged. "I may be a murderer, but you're the monster, Father. I don't fuck up my family or screw up everybody's lives."

Valentine's face was impassive. "Again, Clarissa, with the temper tantrums," was all he said.

Clarissa's face contorted, making her crazy and hateful, and for a split second, like her father.

"I am not," she snarled, snatching up the angel blade out of his hands. "Like you." she spat the last word, bringing the seraph blade down on him, piercing his heart.

Valentine slumped down, eyes blank and dying.

He looked up at her with those flat eyes, satisfaction and triumph clear in his look. "Yes, you are," he whispered, closing her eyes.

Then she knew.

He'd already known she'd killed Clancy out of self-defense. He'd known she'd kill another man out of anger. He'd set it up. She was a murderer.

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Clary blinked, staring at Alexis. What? She'd never experienced that before...she hadn't killed her father...

Had she?

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