Hey everyone! Long time, no see! Here's the next chapter. Very quickly, there is a long A/N below, but it's not a very happy one, and you're under no obligation to read. To sum it up here, there is no posting schedule, I will post when I can, message me on any of my provided platforms if you have questions. However, I do have a Clace oneshot that will be getting posted this weekend :)

A week and a half went by and Clary had received five texts from Jace.

It really wasn't much for that amount of time, but she knew that it was a lot for him.

Clary.

I don't know how much you heard, but let me explain.

The first two texts came pretty quickly, almost as soon as Clary had looked at her phone after the taxi had dropped her off phone. She didn't reply, but she did lock the front door very firmly behind her. Not just the normal lock, but the deadbolt as well, and she set the security alarm for the lower ground before she skipped the steps to go upstairs. She hardly ever worried about the extra locks and the alarm. The neighbourhood was safe and with the extra locks on, the maid and the dog walker couldn't get in. But it was just in case Jace came by, because while Clary hadn't seen it for herself, but she was pretty certain that he would have no problem picking a lock and slipping in.

The third text was there when Clary woke up the next morning. She hadn't slept very well, but the last time she had checked her phone it was just after two, and then she woke up to her school alarm going off, so she must have fallen asleep for the hours in between.

Clary. Please.

Clary turned her phone off and very purposefully left it at home that day.

It literally felt as though she was walking around and missing a limb without it, but she was pretty damn sure if she took it to school with her, then she would text Jace back. And she didn't want to do that right now. Simon drove her to school and asked about her side of what had happened with the fight with Lydia, given he'd already heard all the other cheerleaders tweeting about their sides, and Clary hadn't replied to any of his text messages until that morning. Kaelie met her in the car park and through an arm around her, cooing over the bruise just under her eye and the split in her lip. Lydia wasn't at school that day, and it seemed as though she hadn't been there the day before, but Jordan was, and it was obvious that he knew what the fight was about.

He tried to come over and talk to Clary while she and Kaelie were walking to English, but Clary just shot him a withering look while Kaelie pulled the fingers and they flounced off.

Aline came over and said 'thank you' to Clary, as though she thought everything that had happened between Clary and Lydia had been over the stupid arch that Lydia was snapping at Aline about. It hadn't been, there was clearly so much more, but Clary just shrugged and muttered 'you're welcome' before giving her an awkward smile and walking off.

The fourth text was nearly a week later, and Clary surmised that he was drunk.

Clary. This stupid. Call me.

Corrective text made it a lot harder to figure out when people were drunk, but the missed word seemed like a giveaway. Plus it was nearly two in the morning when the message showed was being received, so it wouldn't be a stretch

She didn't reply.

And the fifth one had come earlier that day, after she had finished cheerleading practice. Kaelie had told her that she would quit if Clary did, but Clary knew that Kaelie enjoyed cheerleading. It was probably more that she liked the cute uniform and the attention she got when they were practicing or cheering at games, even though she would still have gotten plenty of attention if she stopped. Clary stayed, because she liked Kaelie, mainly. But...Also because she knew it would piss Lydia off, having to look at her all the time.

Clary. Let me explain. Call me. Please.

Maybe if he had apologized, then she would reply.

But he didn't, and he hadn't any off the other ones that he had sent her, and over the past week and a half, she had managed to steel herself, and so it wasn't too hard not to reply. She was good at that. She'd always make Jordan wait before she replied to messages, and that was just when he was being an arrogant prick, muchless talking about her to his friends behind her back and hiding stuff from her.

The guy, Sebastian, had called her a cunt with such poison in his voice.

And then had spoke about her family, as though he knew them.

And Maia hadn't even defended her when he had called her a slut.

It had been Will, a guy that she barely even knew.

And there had been some comment about sides.

What the fuck did that mean?

There were no sides.

And then Isabelle had said that she wasn't so bad—Isabelle didn't even know her, Isabelle acted as though she hated Clary, and now she was saying she wasn't so bad?

Clary didn't know what was going, but she knew that there were things that Jace had hidden from her, things that she didn't know—bad things—and she couldn't even trust Maia and Magnus, the people that she had been spending so much time with, people that she had really thought she had connected with.

Both of them had tried texting her as well.

Not with any explanation, just asking for her to call them, or Jace, and let him explain.

Clary didn't reply to them either.

All she could think was that this whole thing was a joke. Jace had decided to play around with a rich girl as just a piece of ass on the side. Which made complete sense, because she was not the type of girl that fit into his world. She didn't like wearing leather, and she didn't like being in the clubhouse where things were loud and dirty, and she didn't like the way they spoke about woman, and she didn't like the way Jace would say things and act as though they were an order.

She told herself that over and over again when she cried in the shower, refusing to let herself do it anywhere else other than where it could be washed down the drain. Told herself that he was an asshole who was just using her as some punchline.

Honestly, she just wanted Jonathan to come home.

She just wanted to talk to her brother.

She didn't want to tell Simon, because Simon would just act all knowing and probably wouldn't actually verbalize 'I told you so' but it would be hanging in the air around them. Kaelie wouldn't really understand getting hooked up on one guy, because she had never really had feelings for someone, and she would probably be even more confused since it had happened just after she had broken up with Jordan. Clary hadn't even processed the way she felt about Jace properly, and now, she didn't even want to.

Valentine was back home, and Clary was glad that her face had mostly healed. The bruising was pretty much gone and easily covered by make up and the little split on her lip was still a darker shade of pink than the rest of her mouth, but once she put lipstick on, it wasn't noticeable. She was getting ready for a football game, her hair in two high pigtails and she had bright red lipstick on her mouth. She had a jersey over her cheerleading uniform as she headed down the stairs.

"Dad?" Clary's voice was quiet as she knocked on the heavy door of his study. She didn't often go down the far end of the ground floor where his study and gym were, although she remembered that she used to when she was a kid.

"Evening, Clarissa," Valentine looked up from the papers that he was poured over. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and gave her an expectant look. Clary couldn't help but glance around, and notice the musty smell in the office. Sure, their maid came in and cleaned and opened up the windows to air the place out, but Valentine had an order that the door would always be shut after she left, and given how little he was actually home, it wasn't surprising that the air was stale. "What can I help you with?"

"I was wondering if you knew when Jon would be home?" Clary asked as she leaned against the door frame, not stepping any further into the room. Valentine frowned.

"What do you mean?" He asked, and there was something in his voice that had changed. His expression was a bit harder and his eyes were closed off behind the lenses of his glasses. "He's not coming home." Clary's eyebrows pulled together.

"He messaged me not that long ago, and said that he thought he would be coming home soon," Clary explained and Valentine shook his head firmly.

"Jonathan will not be home anytime in the near future," he said, and he got up from his seat. He came over to Clary and gave her a pointed look that confused her. Clary took a step back as Valentine put his hand on the door, and then very deliberately closed it in her face. She was left in the hallway, in the dark, and feeling cold, even though the temperature was warm. Clary swallowed hard, and she was about to back away when she heard an angry tone from inside.

At first she couldn't hear clearly, the words were muted, but when she leaned against the door, ear pressed against it like she was a child, she could make out what he was saying.

"Jonathan? Call me back as soon as you get this," Valentine's words were clipped. "You are not to come home. What the hell do you think you're doing, telling Clary that you are?" There was an annoyed and muffled thud, and he didn't say anything else, so Clary wondered if he had dropped his phone onto his desk. She pulled away from the door and stepped slowly down the hallway before turning around and quickly walking toward the front door. Essex was waiting there, panting and looking up at her expectantly, and Clary reached down to ruffle her fingers through Essex's fur, behind her ears, eyebrows pulled together.

Essex made a whining noise in the back of her throat as she butted her head against Clary's shoulders, able to tell that something was bothering her owner. Clary managed a small smile at Essex's big eyes staring up at her, and dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

"I'll be back later, baby," Clary murmured, scratching behind her ears once more before getting up and leaving through the front door, locking it behind her.

Aight. I've rewritten a message about six times and everytime I feel like such a bitch so here's attempt seven! I can't tell you how anxious I am posting this but writing is supposed to be fun and an emotional outlet for me, not pushing me to the point of wanting to just delete my whole damn account. Lol.

So! As a lot of you will have gathered, looking at my profile and if you follow any of social media, my mental health is shit right now. Please respect that. If you do not understand that, that is fine, but please respect it. There will be no posting schedule. I will update when I'm ready. If you have a request for a story, please do not spam reviews my stories, please message me. If you want a rough idea of when an update might be up, please message. If you do not want to message me, and you just want to leave a comment simply saying 'update' multiple times a week….I mean, okay? Just, um, I need some understanding that I am a human on the other end, and if you are a guest coming in just to comment 'update now', 'next update better be a long one', 'why are you like this, when are you going to update?' then please understand that as someone who has crushing depression and anxiety, these messages do not help. These do not feel like supportive words. These almost feel like demands. I delete a lot of these because they're very difficult to look at.

I understand that you would like stories finished. Myself personally, unless I know the author, I won't start a WIP, I will only read completed stories, and so perhaps it would be an idea to leave my unfinished content until I manage to finish them? I understand that may mean losing some readers, and I hate that, but I am only one teeny tiny content creator in a massive pool, and while your support is so fucking appreciated, you're under no obligation to stay right now.

So, uh. That's it! As always, I'm contactable on my social media, you can send me a PM on here, I'm pretty sure I've messaged back every single reviewer who has messaged me, and honestly, you who have reached out to me, and those on Twitter? You are absolutely beautiful human beings who deserve the world, you have no idea.

Please make sure you're looking after yourself and you're keeping safe, mentally and physically. If you're in NZ or in America, please vote. Screw Judith Collins and Fuck. Donald. Trump.

Love you x

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