Chapter Song(s):

Only Forever – Demi Lovato

Heart Of Stone – IKO

September – Daughtry

Can't Get It Out – Brand New

Love Remains The Same – Gavin Rossdale

What I've Done – Marie Digby

White Flag – Dido

Sorry – Buckcherry

Jonathan was silent the entire car ride. I dug my fingers into the fabric of my jeans anxiously, my stomach souring as the minutes ticked by without a word between us. I begged him to tell me what was wrong, but the only response was.

"Just trust me."

Finally, he put his blinker and turned into makeshift driveway. There was no concrete, but a dirt path had been worn into the grass, indicating that was where cars were meant to go. He pulled into said area. There were two other vehicles already there. One was an older Ford pickup truck, and the other was a black sedan. As he killed the engine, I reached over and took the keys. I held them at a distance from him.

"You will get these back when you tell me what is going on."

He sighed. "I'm about to. Trust me."

He reached over then, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing hard. I returned the hug with just as much force. I didn't know what was about to happen, but I had no doubt it was a big deal. I was scared, and that hug gave me the strength to get out of the car. Jonathan took my hand as we made our way across the grass towards the stairs. The house was small, but obviously well loved. It was built of brownstone brick, with flowers lining the sides of the house and up the wooden stairs. As we made it to the door and Jonathan produced a plain house key, my confusion grew. He unlocked the door and pushed on the maroon surface of the door. It opened into a living room, which Jonathan then took me into, our hands still intertwined. He closed the door behind us, and I heard footsteps approaching. Whose house was this? What was going on? As the source of the footsteps revealed themselves, I did a double take. "Luke?" Luke Garroway had been my mother's best friend. He and my father had also once been close friends, but that had ended before I ever came along. Still, I could recall mornings in his pickup truck, my legs barely touching the floorboard, and the smell of coffee and pastries in the air. He gave me a small, sad smile. "Hello, Clary."

He then turned to Jonathan and his look hardened, but only marginally, as if his heart just wasn't in it.

"You shouldn't have brought her." He said.

Jonathan's chin lifted, his hand tightening on mine. "I will not lie to her. She deserves to know."

Luke sighed, resigned. "Yes, I agree. She does."

I was about to demand answers from both of them when another, lighter pair of footsteps approached. The woman was drying her hands on a dish towel, shaking her head. "What is – oh."

Her words died off as she took in the scene in front of her. My eyes refused to take her in. The world felt unsteady under my feet. Jocelyn Morgenstern had always been beautiful, inside and out. Her beauty hid a ferocity that not many saw. Standing there, she looked exactly like I remembered, red hair framing her pale face, forest green eyes framed by thick lashes. Thin hands that were meant for holding a paintbrush. Jeans with holes that were self-made, a flannel button up, and black boots. Different colors of paint speckled her exposed forearms, and various spots on her clothes. Her nails were free of polish, her face bare of makeup. I drank in every detail, down to the scuffs on my mother's boots. She looked so exact to the way she had when I had last seen her, I was barely able to convince myself that she wasn't right back there, eight years ago. It wasn't until the dull ache in my chest intensified that I realized I wasn't breathing. I let out the air I had been holding in a gasp, and struggled to get more in.

My mouth formed several words, but none of them seemed to make it paste the cloud of shock clinging to me like a wet blanket.

"M-Mommy?" I finally said breathlessly. I hadn't called my mother that since I was nine. My mother smiled at me, the warm tilt of her lips that I had so deeply yearned to bear witness to, at least once more.

"Clary—" She started, but I interrupted her.

"Car accident." I muttered. A spark of anger broke through my haze, and though it was the last thing I had expected to feel if I ever saw my mother again, it was there, raw and unforgiving. Jocelyn's brow creased, but she said nothing.

"They said it was..." I trailed off, trying to grasp a solid thought in a confusing lake of them.

"Eggs—you went to get eggs." My breath came in fast pants, and my eyes stung as my vision swam. Mom reached out to me, and though I had wanted for years to feel the comforting touch of her embrace, it was suddenly just all too much.

"No!" I said, throwing my hands up and backing away from my mother.

"It's j—I can't—I have to get out of here." I turned and ran. My brother called after me, but I didn't stop. I still had his keys grasped in my hand, somehow. I got in the car, and somehow my shaky hands got the car into ignition. I peeled out of the driveway, and barely made it out of the neighborhood before the hot tears spilled over, sliding down my cheeks and splattering my shirt. I drove, not knowing where I was going until I was there. I'd arrived at the park that had been my mother and I's spot when I was little. She would take me to the playground and push me on the swings. And when I'd gotten older and become interested in art just like her, we travelled to a secluded part of the park, far away from the playground and picnic spaces. Our spot was a gathering of rolling hills and trees, dotted here and there with flowers and sometimes weeds. There was the occasional grouping of trees, but it was mainly the grassy hills. I got out of the car and locked it, not feeling the actions, as if someone else was doing it. I climbed until I got to our preferred hill, and sat down. I had not been here in years, but somehow it was as bright and green as my memory had preserved it. A soft breeze blew through the hills, stirring the higher blades of grass and the vegetation all around. I sat down, curling my fingers into the soft soil, desperate to feel some sort of grounding. I breathed heavily, trying to calm my pounding heart. But I couldn't seem to get enough air in past the invisible weight baring down on me. The sobs came then, harsh and raw, and they stole my breath away. For years all I had wanted was my mom back. But now, I didn't know what to do.

I don't know how long I sat there. But after a while, the tears had dried on my face and the sky had darkened to a cool blue. The air had chilled, and goosebumps dotted my bare arms. I began yanking up handfuls of grass, picking at the green spears. A truck pulled up, and a man emerged from it. He made his way up the hill. I debated whether or not to run, but I wasn't sure I had the energy to stand. He finally made his way to the hill and sat beside me. He handed me a leather jacket. I accepted it, threading my arms through the sleeves. I hugged the material close to me, inhaling my mother's familiar scent of floral vanilla. After a few moments with only the sound of crickets filling the silence, I found it in me to speak. "Please...please just tell me why. Were we really that horrible?"

"God, Clary. No. Absolutely not. Look...I don't agree with everything your mother has done, but don't for a minute doubt that she loves you and your brother. Everything she did was to protect herself and you two. Trust me, she has her reasons for what she has done. But that is her story to tell, and I'm not going to tell it for her."

"It's just...does she know what she did to us? What could be a good enough reason to let your children believe you are dead?"

"Like I said; I don't agree with everything she has done. But she really does have her reasons. You love her, right?"

Did I love her? No matter what she did, she was still my mother. "Of course I do."

"Then just hear her out. Hear what she has to say, and if you decide to be pissed at her for the rest of your life, then that is your choice. But somehow, I don't see you making it."

"I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

He nodded. "That's okay. I figured that might be your answer." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a key. He offered it to me. I hesitantly took it, giving him a quizzical look.

"It's a key for the house – for Jocelyn and I's house." He explained. "It's yours. Whenever you feel ready, just use it, and we'll be there."

Though I had thought that my tears had dried up, I felt the warning sting behind my eyes. I managed to bite my lip and hold them back.

"Thank you." I whispered.

He smiled at me and nodded.

A calm silence followed. We sat there, watching the breeze ruffle the grass.

He broke it by saying "I should probably free your brother from his cage."

I looked over at him. "What?"

"He came with me. He wanted to bum rush the hill to make sure you were okay. Your mother also wanted to come, but I talked her out of it. I persuaded your brother to stay put in the car as well."

"You locked him in there, didn't you?"

"Little bit."

An hour later, I sat on my bed, staring at the house key in my hands. I hadn't talked much with my brother, other than assure him that I wasn't going to break down and start rocking in the nearest corner. A million emotions swirled throughout me, and I yearned to talk it through someone, to help me figure it out. I knew I had people who would help talk me through this mess, but as normally, the only one I wanted was my mom. My phone jumped to life beside me, letting out a shrill ring. It sat atop a purple and white envelope. My Tisch acceptance. Though it was a mere hours ago, opening that letter felt like it had happened years ago. I brushed the papers away and reached for the phone. I picked it up and stared at the incoming call as it rang.

Jace

The picture was one I had taken this past fall. Jace had gotten a hold of my sketchbook whilst I was drawing one of my many portraits of him. In the picture, he held the sketch next to his face, making a funny face while comparing his physical likeness to the one on paper. The call prompted me to answer of decline. I thought about how he was probably calling to tell me about his day, which was no doubt filled with many tours and exciting adventures and probably some weird food too. I thought about me hiding the Tisch acceptance from him, and hiding the discovery of my very much not dead mother, and of my highly depressing mood. I had a very self hateful moment, not wanting to inflict my current dark cloud on him. I was being stupid. I knew I was.

I declined the call.

Uh...surprise? I know this probably sucked and won't get reviews just like my last update. But I would love if that were not the case. Review, tell me your thoughts!

As always, I love and appreciate you guys. – Megan