Jace
I could tell just by her appearance alone that this Miss Payne woman was a cat-lady. Why? Because she gave off the vibes of a seventy-year-old grandmother and an annoying, whiny girlfriend all at the same time. That, and her ring finger was empty, just a stretch of taut skin that worked with the other neighboring fingers of her right hand to curl around a clipboard. Matt peered up at her from behind Luke's pant legs, wide and hazel irises scrutinizing her stringent and harsh mien just as I was. He held his pudding cup down by his side, looking on the verge of dropping it altogether.
"I hear that you're excellent friends with Clary," Miss Payne said, her plum lips twisting into something awfully alike a smile. It took me a moment to register that she had been talking to me, and I sat forward slightly, keeping my face as neutral as possible. On the inside, however, a dread unlike anything I've ever felt before seemed to crack wide open, tangling its darkened fingers into all of the light that still remained, engulfing it. I didn't know what this meant for Clary or Matt—just hours ago Clary was nearly passed out on her kitchen floor with her father holding her down, and now her assigned social worker was here in the hospital?
I wondered if Miss Payne had frequented the Morgenstern family before, if neighbors of Clary and Matt caught onto their father's abusiveness before and filed reports; but there was no way, if that were the case, that she had been recruited. Maybe some other social worker, but definitely not her. Clary had always told me that Matt was painfully shy around new people, and cowering behind his sister's boss's legs, especially considering that Luke was close to a stranger himself, spoke volumes. I wanted to comfort Matt in the best way I knew how, but he stared unwaveringly at Miss Payne, so obviously distressed.
"Jace, is it?" she said after a beat. My dull staring must've weirded her out, what with the crinkling of her eyes, the downturn of her lips. It was almost as if the woman never smiled and that it pained her to keep up with the action for long periods of time.
"Yes, sorry," I confirmed, nodding my head. "I suppose you could say that much." My answer was shaky at best; Clary and I had only just barely established a friendship before this whole situation took off. Then, before we were loaded into the ambulance together, we had kissed. Twice. And all while standing just a foot away from her unconscious father. Friends didn't seem like a strong enough word, but anything beyond that was like treading into uncharted waters inhabited by all of legend's most esteemed sea monsters. It was scary—I liked Clary, and I knew that she must have some feelings for me herself to have kissed me back and to be wearing the locket I'd given her, but I had no idea whether a relationship with her was even likely at this point. I didn't want that to be the case, but, really, the cards all rested in Clary's hands.
And for God's sake, Miss Payne had only asked if I knew the girl.
"That is so good to hear. Marvelous, actually," Miss Payne exclaimed, hugging the clipboard closer to her chest with that fake and uppity smile. Botox injections. That had to be her poison. "Clarissa and Matthew, as they have both been through something so entirely traumatic are going to need as many supporters as possible through this transition—"
"Transition?" my own father inquired, his eyes squinted a little. I noticed that Matt was now clutching Luke's jeans with both of his hands, pudding cup and all.
She hummed. "Yes. I'm going to find great homes for them. If we're lucky, they can remain in New York or the next state over; that way you can still visit."
The next state over? Clary didn't hold the cards; Miss Payne did, and she could take Clary—a girl who I was so invested in, so blatantly in love with—away from me.
I was adjusting to the oh-so pristine social worker about as well as having a knife embed itself into my abdomen. The blood from my face, like an angry torrent with no destination in mind, drained all in one go, sitting heavy in my limbs, and I could swear that a rib of mine had briefly impaled my heart. Knowing Clary, who was no longer an enigma as I had originally figured, she had always had a plan in mind—wait until she was of age to get a job, become employed at Happy Cones, save all of her money up. And I had so dimwittedly and recklessly rushed her carefully articulated recipe for escape; that meant that Clary had intended to always leave, but I just didn't know when that was. Until now.
Everything Clary ever did, ever thought about, was Matt. She had to be of legal age to care for him on her own if she was to leave her father; Clary was going to wait until she was eighteen, and not a day later, to make her move. She was going to just so selflessly commit herself to two more years worth of all of her father's abuse and torment just to fully free herself and her brother from him, and who knows whether or not by that time she'd even still be alive. That was unnerving as anything. It was still hard for me to just accept the fact that Clary, even at sixteen, didn't care much for herself or what happened to her. There was only ever Matt, and I had a feeling that if someone—Miss Payne—were to take him away from her, she'd give up altogether. On living, that is.
"In fact," Miss Payne continued, grinning down at Matt as she spoke, "there is already a family interested in adoption."
"Adoption," my father repeated. "For the both of them?"
The social worker's face faltered and I might as well have had a literal knife inside of my stomach because whatever she was going to share next, it wasn't going to be good. "This family, you see, is newly wedded, but they are of middle-age. They have always wanted a boy," Miss Payne indulged with twinkling eyes. "As soon as Matt's status was optioned to them, they jumped at the opportunity. And all within a couple of hours."
"Clary..." I breathed, loud enough for apparently everyone else to hear. It was more out pain than anything else. Being separated from Matt would literally kill her—she's already been through so much, and now this Payne-lady wanted to waltz in like she owned the place and take away Clary's little brother? My heart was gunning. Right as we were speaking, Clary was still lying in a hospital bed with countless injuries, entrusting me and Luke to watch over Matt; I'm sure she wasn't even informed yet that there was a social worker assigned to her. That the very woman in question was already giddy and on the verge of shredding apart Clary's only—literally only—means of happiness.
Miss Payne had the nerve to look apologetic. "Clary is sixteen, while Matt is only nine. Her age will make it...difficult for families to carry through with adoption; in just two years, she'll be a legal adult and already leaving the nest. Even nine is a bit of a challenge. But there are wonderful foster homes that I often frequent myself. That is a very viable option."
I was suddenly very aware that Matt was still present, that he was hearing all of this for himself. "I want to stay with Clary," Matt said is a small voice, ducking further into Luke's side and closing himself off completely from the social worker.
She blinked, and I was almost shocked that her eyelashes didn't tangle together, appearing disturbed. She looked over at Luke, then behind him where Mattie resided, and before any time at all had passed, that smile of hers was back. "Don't you worry, Matthew. The adoption isn't finalized yet, obviously, but if we were to carry through with it, you'd only be moved to Pennsylvania. I can locate a foster home in that state as well and we can arrange for visitation hours on the weekends—"
"No!" Luke bursted, a stark contrast to the calm demeanor he'd upheld throughout the majority of the conversation; his blue eyes appeared lighter against the red that tinged his face, and a vein, concealed when he was at ease, stuck out in his forehead. There was something so pained in his expression, something desperate but, more than that, livid. It was almost as if he were reliving his darkest hours, or experiencing a night terror right before our very eyes, breathing heavy and shaking his head gruffly. "Absolutely not. The best thing for Clary and Matt is to be kept together, and whether that entails the same foster home, so be it. Either both of the kids are adopted, or neither one is."
Miss Payne, left slightly flustered from Luke's outpour, tightened her lips together. "I would like to remind you, sir, that foster home children are often adopted anyways; it's likely that Matt will be swept up within a couple of months. There's no telling where his new family would take him, or if Clary would be able to see her brother. The family in Pennsylvania is open to visitation. It really is the best option here as Clary and Matt don't have any other relatives—"
"Then I'll talk to you about them," Luke interrupted, his bleary eyes skirting over Matt to convey his message. "Matt can stay here with Jace and his father, wait until the doctors let him see his sister, and you and I can discuss the Morgenstern children's situation over coffee across the street. Not here."
Miss Payne twisted her plum lips together, the gauntness to her face becoming even more profound, the wrinkles around her eyes sharper. "Yes, of course, Mr. Garroway. That is a lovely suggestion." Oh, I could tell that cat-lady would rather stuff her face into a litter box than engage in anymore discussion with my boss; her nose crinkled as if she smelled something awful, and just one of her eyebrows arched ever so slightly, really enhancing the plastic effect of her Botox. But, it wasn't in her job description to off put the friends of her clients, nor was it acceptable under any jurisdiction to lose her cool and go bat-shit crazy. I could just tell she itched to let her hair down and pop the top layer of her skin to free her pores—seriously, she looked like the film that covered cafeteria mac and cheese. All the while, she turned and started towards the door ahead of Luke, her heels clacking against the tiles as a result of her army walk.
Luke glanced in her direction before looking to Matt, placing either of his hands on the boy's shoulders. "You'll be all right here? I want you to stay with Jace until I get back."
Matt didn't seem to like that idea, and unlike Miss Payne, he didn't bother covering it up. His face fell, and then, before I think Luke could expect it, Mattie's twig-like arms were wrapped around my boss's torso, the former's head burrowing into Luke's abdomen. Luke froze, just like a deer in headlights, his discomfort almost tangible. But something came over him in between one moment and the next, and to see it for myself was remarkable: Luke's stiffness melted away. Like steam he was loose, bending down at Matt's level to properly embrace him. It was about as much affection he'd shown anyone before, except for maybe Clary, and suddenly I felt really terrible for watching his paternal nature unfold.
Sneaking a peak over at my dad, I realized that a small smile graced his mouth; the two of us might as well have been watching a Hallmark movie, and we were at the part that was always the most touching. My heart strings were pulled. Luke was whispering something, an assurance I'm sure, into Matt's hair, gripping the small boy as if he were his missing child finally returned home.
"Mr. Garroway?" Miss Payne called. She was stopped at the entranceway of the hospital, thumping her fingers impatiently against the back of her clipboard. Clearly she wasn't a fan of Hallmark movies or touching adult-child interactions.
Luke pulled back from Matt with a comforting smile, mounting back to his feet, giving Clary's brother a gentle push in my direction. Just as Luke turned to join Miss Payne, Matt seemed to realize that he was really leaving and that he no longer had any choice in the matter; it was me or the cafeteria lady. I almost figured he'd go for her instead, to be honest, but Matt looked at me with resolve, hurrying over.
He stopped in front of me, looking nervously over at my dad. "Oh, sorry. Here, buddy, you can sit next to Jace. By all means, go ahead," my father rushed to say, standing up from his chair and moving to situate himself in one of the adjacent seating options. Matt didn't hesitant past that point, climbing up onto the chair and letting his feet dangle as he took another spoonful of his pudding. I noticed how his body angled towards mine, how he seemed more comfortable that way, but he still painfully quiet. We were all like that, each one of us just holding our breaths until one made an initiative to blink.
I figured I knew a way to break the ice. "So, was it just me or did Miss Payne remind you of an oompa lumpa?"
Matt cackled with giggles, falling back against the chair. The sound of his little-turned-loud voice almost defied gravity as I fought to sit upright, peeking around nervously at the otherwise silent hospital; the eyes of many—mainly families sitting in the cold waters of uncertainty and grimness—situated onto our little trio, a mixture between peeved and despondency. Matt was oblivious to it all, taking another scoop of pudding and swinging his legs back and forth. "I think she liked Luke," he informed me, keeping his face uncharacteristically expressive. "She told him he was handsome in the cafeteria, but she does look like a little oompa lumpa. And she smelled funny."
I somehow found it hard to believe that any woman with a seeing eye would so outright tell someone as, I'm sorry to say, scruffy looking as my poor boss that she found him 'handsome.' I'm sure the man could get a date every now and then if he made a little more effort towards his appearance, but between Luke's standardized lackluster, unshaved, and slack persona and the worry over Matt and Clary's predicament, even someone as oompa lumpa-esque as Miss Payne would have to be his mother to see something there. Then again, Matt was nine. Didn't all children embellish their stories?
"You heard her say that? To Luke?" I said dubiously.
Matt nodded at once. "Yeah. She said that she 'didn't expect to find someone so handsome,'" Clary's brother recalled. "And she looked at him all mushy-like. Like how Clary looks at you—Clary always tells me that girls speak in a secret language. Because I have a sister, though, I think I understand it pretty well. The looking, I mean."
I was so glad that I hadn't taken my father's offer to have him buy me a soda from the cafeteria earlier. My spit-take would've gone all over the place, and just thinking of the carbonated burn made my eyes water past, of course, my elatedness over Matt's unwitting revelation. That, in the weirdest way possible, was what I had needed; a confirmation of sorts that my feelings for Clary weren't just my own. I had a feeling that Matt and I would be great friends—who knows what else he could tell me.
My dad snorted. "You're lucky your sister loves you so much, bud," he motioned towards Matt. "If that girl found out what you just told my son, she'd have you for breakfast—trust me. I'd know after having grown up with two sisters of my own."
Matt flushed a deep rose color, slumping further in his seat. What surprised me, though, was that he had opened up his body—neither his legs nor his arms angled away from my father any longer—and he seemed to exhume this comfortableness. He hadn't been told any details about what had happened, just that his sister was in the hospital and that his father was taken away by policemen, with the promise that he would never bother either one of them again. But Matt was calculative, just like Clary, and he knew the ins and outs of peoples' contextualized words; he knew that Clary had been injured badly enough to need medical attention, and that it was his own father that had hurt her. That he would be imprisoned. Even so, the kid was looking more like a nine year old than I'd ever seen him be.
I just hoped that Clary could somehow come out of this with that same lightness. It was no secret that she'd taken the brunt of her father's abuse all of these years, and looking at Matt now, I knew it was only because of her that he was still able to smile.
This time when the silence dawned on us, it wasn't painfully awkward. But it didn't last as long either: "Is Clary okay?" Matt asked. It almost killed me a little inside to see his look so fixated on me, as if he figured I had all of the answers. For some reason, I couldn't push this overwhelming feeling of guilt down. To lie to him would be like taking advantage over his situation—I couldn't do that. Not after all he's been through and is going to go through.
He seemed to dread my answer upon my first intake of breath. His eyes were nearly as large as Clary's and I was just thankful that they weren't her same shade of green. My God, though, it was still hard. "She...Her—your father hurt her pretty badly this time."
"You mean she has bruises?" Matt inquired. It scared me for a moment to hear how casual, almost detached, he sounded; this was his whole life and he's probably seen things—horrible, awful things—done to his sister that no grown man in his right mind would dream of. At this moment, Mattie was distant. Just a shell of the personality he's proved to have.
I nodded a little hesitantly. "Yes."
"Clary has more," Matt said simply, lowering his eyes as if in prayer.
I felt my brows furrowing before I could register my very real confusion. "More what?"
He seemed to toss the words around in his mouth, still not willing to look up. His sigh didn't go unheard either as I chanced a look at my father; he was staring at the young boy with just as much intensity, quiet and sitting politely with his hands clasped together in his lap, but also discontent like he already knew what Matt would tell us. Matt shifted in his chair, meeting my gaze and my gaze alone. "I don't think Clary would tell you—she told me I had to keep...everything a secret or else we'd be separated from each other. Like we are now. But she has more bruises and scars. I've seen them with my own eyes." His pause was almost warranted. I needed it to recover from what he was telling me and what he was about to tell me: "One night, I had to go to bed really early. My dad locked my door when he got home from work, which was only five. And I...I heard what happened in Clary's room through the walls."
Matt's eyes were fervent, and I could see his inner debate driving him near insanity; I recognized myself as a safe base, if not haven, for both Mattie and Clary, and at this moment, Matt wanted to keep eye contact with someone he knew was safe, but he also wanted close himself off. It seemed to only just now dawn on him that he had both mine and my father's full, undivided attention. "I heard him leave for work the next morning—he forgot to let me out of my room, so I missed school that day. I tried talking to Clary through the walls but she never answered me and I think I was afraid that she...left. Like Mom. And I thought I'd be alone for good," Matt swallowed, on the verge of shuddering. "But Dad came home at night, like always, and he let me out. I went straight to Clary's room and she was there, sleeping. I couldn't wake her up. Her back was towards me and...there were marks. A lot of them.
"She doesn't know that I've seen them," he said, sniffing. "But I think she's still in pain and that she won't tell the doctors about it."
I leaned closer to him and even surprised myself when I placed my hand onto his back, just between his shoulder blades. His attention was anything but staunched up until the instant of my contact, and then his eyes rested on my face, rendering me more speechless than before. "Now, the both of us know how stubborn your sister is," I told him, trying to sound light but failing miserably, "but even if she doesn't tell the doctors much, they'll see it for themselves. She's getting taken care of. Properly."
Yes. I know I said that it would only be two more chapters, but I have been writing so much over the past few weeks in my absence—just not for Fanfiction. I'm super sorry about that, I just haven't had much inspiration for Bruises or Captured at the moment. Don't be alarmed: I am not going anywhere until they're done, and I'm going to pick up where I left off on Six and Where Did All of the Light Go?
So, if you read the chapter title, this is only part one of this chapter. This last part is just going to be super long because I have to include everything that I need to, so, rather than killing myself over writing a 7,000 plus chapter, I'm going to break it down. This means more updates for you guys (yay!). But, seriously, there's going to be an awesome Clace moment to solidify the story's end, and, considering I have to add what's going to happen to Clary and Matt, Jace's relationship with his mom, and Luke's backstory, it's going to be a bumpy ride until the end. Just know that this 'end' is coming haha. Eventually.
Please leave comments to let me know what you guys all want to see before Bruises is done!
Until next time, peace!
When the story's over, I'm going to combine all of the different parts I happen to break this chapter up into. Just an FYI! I'll edit soon as well!
