Ok, quick reminder.

I love you guys, so damn much. I started this story, not knowing how it would turn out, and the amount of support is overwhelming.

Shout out to the following readers for supporting this story so damn much.

WeirdACE, vimto474, and reemarie36.

I appreciate you guys so, so much. Your support pushes me to write more. Thank you for everything. Seriously.

Enjoy!

Luke and Raphael drove to Clary's house, frantic. There were no cars in the driveway, which meant that Valentine probably wasn't home. Raphael parked the car on the side of the street a couple houses down from Clary's just in case. They ran to the front door, and banged on it furiously.

Luke put his ear on the door, attempting to listen for any noises. He heard nothing.

"Raphael, I can't hear anything. Clary's bike isn't here either. She must have gone somewhere. But where could she have gone?"

What they didn't know is that Valentine took the bike and put it in the garage, because he knew someone would be looking for Clary. This time, Valentine wasn't playing around.

Clary lived her life making sure those around her were happy, even if it meant her happiness was depleted. She gave to others, even if they didn't give back.

Valentine lived his life, believing in only one thing.

"To love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed."

Clary woke up, and found that she was still in the little room. This was all part of her subconscious. At least, that's what she thought it was. She walked to the walls, pounding on them desperately.

"Help me!" she screamed. "Please!"

Clary slunk down to the floor, frustrated. When would she wake up? Clary had reached a point where she was aware of her dreams and nightmares.

She could feel the pain in her fists from banging on the wall, even though it wasn't real. She knew that if she didn't pull out of dream soon, she might not wake up.

Clary closed her eyes, and when she opened them a second later, Max was standing in front of her. She almost choked on her grief. Clary was so glad to see him. Even though she had known him for a few days, she loved him, because he reminded her of innocence.

Childlike innocence. It was a beautiful thing. They were in their own world, and were carefree. She loved it. Clary hugged him tightly, not hesitating.

"Clary," whispered Max. "Please come back to me. Jace, Izzy, and Alec can't talk to me or connect with me, but you did. And you make me happy. Please, come back with me."

Clary was crying tears of joy. If Clary wasn't close to Luke and Raphael, Max would easily be the center of her world.

"Oh Max," replied Clary, her voice holding only softness for the young boy. "I would do anything for you."

Max beamed up at her, and held her hand. She thought the little room she was confined in had solid walls, but for some reason, she and Max were able to walk through the wall.

Outside the room, it was pitch black. She hated being in the dark, but this time, she wasn't afraid, because Max was with her. Max stopped, and turned around, even though she couldn't see him.

"Clary, wake up. Please."

And just like that, Clary opened her eyes.

But this time, she was in the real world.

Clary instantly felt waves of pain hit her. Her eyes were tearing up from the pain. She was on the living room floor, face up. With great difficulty, she stood up, and whimpered in pain.

What she saw made her nauseous.

The carpet in the living room was 3/4 soaked in blood. Her blood.

She felt dizzy, and almost collapsed, but regained her balance. How long had it been since she was unconscious? She picked up her bload soaked shirt, and with great perseverance, Clary went to the kitchen, finding her belongings right where she put them.

She picked her phone up, and blanched. Three days. She was out of it for three fucking days.

Angry tears pricked her eyes. How could he do this? Beat her till she was almost dead? There was no way she could go to school or anywhere in her condition. It was 1:00 in the evening, and luckily, it was a Saturday.

She missed three days of school, which meant not being at her jobs.

Shit.

It took Clary almost half an hour to get up the stairs to her room. She locked the door, and headed to the bathroom.

Clary stripped her clothes, and sucked in a breath when she saw her body. Her stomach looked like someone crushed it. Her rib lines were even more prominent, but she knew some of her ribs were broken, or fractured,

She turned around, and almost fainted. Valentine had been true to his word. He had carved "Property of Valentine M." on her back, and burned them in. Clary was to weak to cry, throw a fit, or do anything.

She turned the shower on, and welcomed the cool water on her burning skin. She stepped out of the shower, and she knew that one more beating from Valentine, and it was all over.

She had to pack up, and luckily, she didn't have to do much to get ready.

With shaking hands, she threw her clothes into a duffel bag, and she put on her ratty pjs. Clary had nothing else important to her, other than her sketchbook, which she already had. She packed what little art supplies she had, and sat on her bed, with her duffel bag and messenger bag.

Clary didn't want to stress Raphael out, because he had helped her so much the other day. So, she decided to call Luke.

He picked up on the first ring.

"Clary!" he asked, hoarsely. "Is it you?"

"Luke," answered Clary, her voice weak. The pain was getting to her. "Luke, come to my house. I can't hold up for long. Hurry."

"Clary," he cried. His voice was choked with emotions. "Wait outside. Don't you dare move baby girl. I'm coming."

Clary ended the call, and took her time going down the stairs. She stepped outside, and looked for her bike. After searching for a couple minutes, she found it, and slowly dragged it outside. She heard a car rolling up, and saw Luke and Raphael getting out.

By this point, the pain was too much. Her arms and legs were heavy, and her back was burning. Her ribs ached, and she heard her heart thudding away, getting slower ever second.

Then she collapsed.

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