There's been a couple questions about Jocelyn and Jonathan.

They will be making a GRAND entrance, soon. I promise.

Also, a lot of people asked me to avoid having Clary cry all the time. I agree. I'll try not to make her cry too much. But, I want readers to understand that she's taking all this hate and letting it get to her, and she's so overwhelmed. The only way she can just let go of herself is to unleash her tears.

I went back to the other chapters and had Clary only tear up once or twice. Heheh. I'm rambling lol.

Enjoy!

Unknown p.o.v.

They both wanted to see her. It had been 10 years since they left, and his mother grieved every day, blaming herself for destroying her little girls life. She was selfish, and she knew it.

Her son was curious. He didn't remember his sister, but he wanted to meet her, save her. From what his mother told him, his father was an abusive man, which is why she fled. But his mother only had two train tickets, and his sister didn't make the cut.

He felt guilty, as did his mother. They parked in front of his mothers friends house, but she wasn't sure he would be there.

If he was, she said there was a low chance he would let them stay with him.

They stepped out of the car, and walked up to the small house. His mother rung the doorbell, and a friendly looking man opened the door.

When the man saw them,his eyes got colder, and he glared at them.

"Jocelyn!" he hissed. "What the hell are you doing here!"

Raphael carried Clary's unconscious form up the stairs to his apartment. He grabbed the clothes she brought and her messenger bag, and set them on the study table in his room. He gently lowered her onto the bed, and she opened her beautiful, emerald eyes.

"Raphael," Clary said, groggily. "So..much..pain."

She struggled with every word, and Raphael felt himself getting angrier by the minute. How dare that sick bastard do this to Clary?

Raphael went to the bathroom and filled the tub with hot water. He went back to his room to find Clary sitting up, her back resting against the headboard. She glanced at the digital clock on Raphael's nightstand. 5:00. She had till 7:30, giving her plenty of time to fix herself up.

"Clare, what did he do to you." asked Raphael, his eyes burning in anger. He sat next to her, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"Same things he does every day Raph." whispered Clary. "Beating, verbal abuse, rape and repeat. I'm used it it by now. You would think that I would stop crying, or getting upset whenever this stuff happens. But every insult he says, every time I get hateful looks at school, it's just a matter of time before I slip away."

Raphael was shocked. Clary...dying? She couldn't die, she was the only person who made his life worth living. He was addicted to cocaine and weed, and she risked everything and pulled him out of his downward spiral.

And the only thing he could do to help her was feed her and occasionally bring her to his apartment for comfort.

He felt pathetic. Guilty. Horrible.

'Clare," he said softly. "Don't you dare say that. I love you too much too let you d-die. Open you eyes mi amor. There are so many people around you grateful for what you do. Remember when you told me how this girl at your school, Maureen, was going to kill herself? Who convinced her to not do it? You did. That's only one of the many people you helped hermana. Hell, you helped me through so much. I will never be able to repay you for your help."

Clary sighed, and Raphael pulled his arms away from her.

"Your bath is all set Clary. Do you need help walking to the bathroom?"

"No. Thanks Raph, for everything."

Raphael gently lifted her off the bed, and set her on her feet. She grabbed her clothes, and checked her messenger bag, making sure she had her sketchbook.

He watched as Clary went into the bathroom and locked the door, guilt coursing through him.

If only he could help her, maybe at least help get the proof she needed to throw Valentine in jail.

Maybe he could help...

Clary stripped her pjs, and lowered herself into the bath, and felt instant relief. The hot water soothed her aching muscles, and she relaxed.

She had a lot of time to get ready. She checked her phone. It was 5:45.

She lowered her head into the bath, relishing the feeling of water covering her.

It was 6:20 when Clary got out of her bath. She felt better, and her muscles were loosened up. But, she still felt pain in her ribs, and her legs were stiff.

She looked at herself in the mirror, and gasped. There were even bigger splotches of purple and blue covering her body, and there was a fairly large purple bruise on her cheek.

Ugly. Disgusting. That was all she thought when she saw herself.

Raphael always left some ointments and bandages in the bathroom for her. She grabbed some ointments and

Clary put her bra and panties on, then slowly slipped into her skinny jeans on, and then her shirt. She always had some makeup in her messenger bag, just in case Valentine hit her face.

Clary went back to Raphael's room, and grabbed her bag. She found a comb and some primer, concealer, and foundation.

She went back to the bathroom, and combed her hair, leaving it down so the bruises on her neck could be covered. She covered her bruise up, and was proud that she did a good job.

Before Clary went to the kitchen, where Raphael was probably making breakfast, she thought about what Jace told her.

Valentine did something to Jace. But what? Anger coursed through her body. Why the hell was everyone picking on her? Fuck them all, she thought. Especially Jace. The twat was a good for nothing, stuck up prick.

Clary slung her bag over her good shoulder and went to the kitchen, where Raphael had made pancakes.

He turned around and smiled at her, and she smiled back.

Clary couldn't help but feel that today was going to be a good day.

Again, please, review!