Dry lightning cracks across the skies
Those storm clouds gather in her eyes
Her daddy was a mean old mister
Mama was an angel in the ground
The weather man called for a twister
She prayed blow it down

- Blown Away, Carrie Underwood.

Some Daddy's love

their princess.

Some Daddies don't.

Not because their princess

was bad,

just because the Daddy

can't love.

The musty TV still worked and that morning it said that there would be a twister, I was 8. Old enough to know that it was bad, but not old enough to think I had to do anything with the information. I didn't think to pack my precious objects or to stock food. But I knew a bunch of other stuff.

I knew a lot of things girls my age shouldn't know.

I knew curse words and the best places to hide.

How to lock the door of my room.

I knew that when having a bruised stomach, you should sleep on your back.

How not tying my hair back was asking to be dragged around by a drunk dad. Dragged by the hair.

How depending on the smell whether I should go inside or not.

I knew how the light was scarier than the dark.

How silence was worse than yelling.

Now I knew why they called it a twister, trees and plants and lamp posts all being sucked into the swirling being. I learned about it at school, but I have never seen it. I knew enough to know that I shouldn't stand by the windows.

So, I ran.

Only hesitating seeing my dad slumped on the couch, his face red from being intoxicated. For a split second I considered bringing him with me, but then I felt the angry throb again. The red slap mark across my face, the sore scalp on my head. The finger prints printed all over my body.

I also knew that good daddies don't do that to their children. To their little girls.

Mommy wasn't here to protect me, not for a week now. I learned quickly not to ask when she was coming up, it made Daddy angry.

I continued racing down to the wine cellar, filled with beer and only a few cans of vegetables. I gripped the knife in my hand, I don't know why I brought it.

But I did.

And as the top half of the house shook, the screams of the wind loud. I prayed that the storm destroyed the house. Destroy the walls filled with dents, from all the times he threw heavy objects at me, nearly missing my head.

Destroying my bedroom door, that was slightly dented from all the times I shoved my bed to it, hoping it would be enough to keep him out. Obliterating him.

Oklahoma might be known to have these storms, but there isn't enough wind or rain to rid me of this house. To rid me of these memories. To rid me of him.

Eventually everything settled down, but I didn't dare leave the cellar.

There was a chance that daddy was awake, and furious.

If he was alive and he thought I tried to get rid of him, he would-

He would ruin me.

Even when sirens screamed and men called, asking for me to come out.

I hid, locking the cellar door and turning off the lights.

I preferred the darkness anyway.

Pressing my ear against the door I heard the words.

A man, an angry man. "Where is she? You have a daughter. Clarissa Morgenstern, where is she? What did you do to her?" Some slurring, and the man raised his voice "Valentine, so god help me. You better answer me, or I'll"

"That little bitch," Valentine said louder and against my will I whimpered. Those words, that way of speach, came when he touched me. Tracing my back and legs. It always left me shaken and sobbing. "Is dead. Leaving her daddy out for the twister to take. She probably didn't even come home, got sucked into that Twister. Would serve her right-"

Some shoving and breaking glass.

I knew that I should show myself now, those people didn't like my dad. That was good, but if they took me- if they discovered me, I would still be Clarissa Morgenstern, no matter how far away they take me. Clarissa died.

I could stay and wait for my mom, because she would come back for me.

She would come back for her Clary. She loved me.

And the last reason why I didn't show myself?

I like that those strangers were angry with my dad, that they would make him responsible for his actions.

Some might call what I'm doing, taking shelter.

I called it revenge.

Even when I could no longer hear the sirens, I didn't come out.

Not until I heard Jace.

Jace was one of the two boys who knew what happened to me at home. Simon was the other, I told Simon because he was my best friend. Jace was just nosy.

"Clary? Are you here?" Jace hollered, his vice was exactly how I remembered. Loud and proud.

I unlocked the door but didn't com out.

An adult voice rang out, kind and serious.

"Jace. Are you sure she would hide?"

"Magnus-"

"Clary would hide, she's smart." Simon said.

At Simon's voice I unlocked the door and threw myself out.

"Simon?!"

"Clary!"

I crushed him into a hug and I started crying.

He didn't let his grip go slack. "You're safe now, Clare-Bear."

And I felt safe, I really did.

"They took him away." The adult voice informed me, a well-dressed man with glittering eyes. "I'm Magnus, and I want to help you."

Another adult stepped from the shadows, he was dressed better and I shrank back. His face softened and he outstretched his hand, "I'm Alec, Jace's foster brother and Magnus' fiancé."

I stepped forward and shook his hand, my hand going around two of his fingers. "I'm Clary Fray."

"Would you like to live with us?"

"My mom-"

"Will have full custody when she comes back." he promised.

I look at Simon, seeking reassurance and he nodded. "I'll be there too!"

I smiled and nodded, "Yes, I want to live with you."

A legit one-shot that doesn't have a ship? Wow, I must be coming down with something.

xxx

PS. Shoot me a comment?

PPS. Please check out my Sizzy one-shot, it's "He Wasn't Good Enough For Her, (No. Wait! He Was.)"