MY GOD! It seems as though it's been forever! I'm immensely sorry for my random, unfortunate disappearance. A lot has changed, but I am back! (Thanks to the last reader who followed my story. I received the e-mail and completely forgot I even had a story!) Anywho, back to the story!

CPOV

I was lying on my bed like a dead fish with no motivation to delve into the waters again. It was a Sunday night, approximately 8:30 PM, and I was bored out of my mind. Jocelyn had kept me in the whole week unless it was to hang out with Simon. Even then she was still scared out of her mind that something would happen to me. I get the whole motherly-instinct-protect-your-kid deal, but a little slack on my leash would mean the world. I was going crazy.

Crazier than I already was.

With a heavy sigh, I rolled off my bed and moved to my desk, hoping some inspiration would appear in the corners of my mind. Five minutes strolled by and I realized nothing was coming to my mind. I need to get out of here.
"Clary, honey! Would you like to watch this artsy movie with me?" Jocelyn called from the living room.
I didn't mind the darned movies from time to time, but I'd already watched a few lame ones earlier today with her. I stifled a groan and yelled back, "Sorry! I'm going to bed! My head's aching."
"Do you need medicine?"
That drew an actual groan from me. "No, mom! I'm good." I turned off my lights and threw back the covers to my bed, but I didn't get in. I simply stared and paced my room. I ended up at my desk again stared out the window. The woodsy park below was almost beckoning me to join its cool, breezy lands. A grin broke out on my face and I shoved my sketch book and pencils into my messenger bag. After slinging it over my body, I pulled myself onto the desk. I surveyed my way down the building, seeing if there was any way I could get down without falling to my death. I pole just two or so feet to the right of my window—a drain pipe, most likely—ran the height of the building. I smirked. This was all so easy.
With my bag securely at my side, I pulled myself onto the pipe and shimmied down slowly. I was about four feet from the ground when my foot slipped and I fell back. I shrieked and whimpered when I hit the ground. A cut decorated the skin on my upper thigh. I threw my head back and cursed the Gods, or whomever was watching over me. Not only had I ruined a pair of wonderful jeans, but I'd probably have to get a tetanus shot later.
I stood up and limped into the ominous forest. Yes, the fog gave opportunity to show off my shading skills; the lighting was phenomenal; and the trees hung just below the moon which was shrouded with passing clouds. Now to make things interesting: perhaps a guy standing amidst the shadows of the branches?
I started sketching, my bottom planted in the damp grass. The trees and fog came out beautifully, and I exhaled a giddy laugh. I started tracing the figure in the shadows of the trees, arms bent over the guy. I kept looking up as if the guy were there, modeling inconspicuously for me. An uneasy feeling swept through my whole body. There really were eyes staring back at me in the forest. They glittered in the moonlight like a venomous snake ready to pounce. Okay, time to go.
I hastily threw my things into my messenger bag and shouldered it, ready to run to the house. As I turned, willing myself that no one was really there to diminish my fears, a chuckle soared through the air. My body froze like the autumn winds that were seeping into my bones. I turned slowly around, thinking it better that I face my fears. I've been running away from moments like this—that's why my mother and I had moved here in New York. I had… seen things. I was told they weren't real, they weren't there—they were hallucinations. But every nerve in my body told me otherwise. Still, I fought to believe my doctors.
"You're not real," I bleated.
There was that venomous chuckle again. "Oh, but you're wrong, mundane." The voice was laced with a Spanish accent, making the words flow like water from the mouth of a river into the sea. It was almost mesmerizing. The man—more like a boy, around sixteen or so—had a glossy mop of black hair framing his pale, pale face. His eyes sparkled dangerously in the night, and my mind was confused on whether to cringe and shy away, or stalk up to him and give him what he wanted.

But what did he want?
"What do you want from me?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady.
"I want one thing, but the law binds me from doing so. But, Deus, you smell so enticing," he drawled.
My heart hammered in my chest as my eyes darted about, searching for something I could use in self-defense. The boy was stalking toward me with an unsettling quiet, and I reached just as slowly into my bag and pulled free one of my Prismacolor pencils. I gripped it at my side, knuckles white. He was in front of me now, his hands reaching for my face. He caressed my freckled skin and pulled the mess of hair away, revealing my neck. I gulped and shuddered at his ice-cold touch, and that was when I saw his eyes grow too dark and fangs sliding out from his teeth.
In a quick motion, I raised my arm and brought the pencil down, jamming it just under his collar bone. He screeched and jumped back, more in surprise than in pain, it seemed. I backed up slowly, then turned and hit something solid and warm. My eyes darted upward.
"Jace?"
But his golden eyes weren't staring at me, they were glaring over my shoulder. His eyes seemed to dance with a fire like no other. His jaw was set hard and I could see his body was wrapped with what seemed to be tribal tattoos—was he even old enough for tattoos?
"Raphael, I think you should go," Jace said calmly, but dangerously.
"Ah, but I wasn't going to kill her," the boy—Raphael—said innocently.
"I don't think that hardly matters."
"Oh, but it does. You know the Law. 'The Law is hard, but it is the Law.' Isn't that what you foolish half-breeds say? Funny now that your own words have been twisted against you," Raphael said as he pulled the colored pencil from his chest. It seemed as though it hadn't even hurt him, and I could already see the wound knitting itself back together.
Oh no, no, no, no. This was the exact same thing I'd hallucinated back in California. People—if I could call them that—who healed quickly, could perform more efficiently than regular humans. Monsters that crawled on more than four legs, venom dripping from their mouths and orifices. My head became light and thought back to the last time I'd taken my medicine. Had I missed my second dose or something? But why was Jace here? Maybe you just wanted a little eye candy to save you, a voice in the back of my mind sang. If that voice had a face, it would have been smirking so intensely at that moment.
In a quick flash, Raphael and Jace were at each other's throats. Jace had what seemed to be a glowing blade in his hand, and he slashed at Raphael with it. Raphael hissed when his skin broke, though it would soon be healed. He bared his fangs one last time after Jace made contact again, and broke off running into the night.
Jace—who hadn't even broken a sweat—turned with an automatic lop-sided grin. The smile was glorious, and unlike anything I'd ever seen. A cut raced down his golden face, but even with that he still looked amazing. He was beautiful, beautiful and dangerous. His smile dissipated almost abruptly as he seemed to realize who he was looking at. Plain ol' me. His eyes become hard and guarded again, and I stumbled away, not wanting to be caught in this hallucination anymore.
"Where are you going?" Jace called after me, though I could hear him just on my heels.
"Home," I said blatantly.
"You don't have any questions? Like, 'why did this sexy beast choose to save me?' Or, 'How did he do those incredible things without even breaking a sweat?'"
"Oh, I have questions. Trust me, I do. But this is all a hallucination—it's not real," I said, mostly trying to convince myself.
"Then why would I be in your hallucination?"
"Believe me, I'm asking myself the same damned thing. I think my mind just wants me to be annoyed even when I'm crazy."
"I'm annoying you? Well. Fine, if you think this is all fake, then go right on ahead believing that. I suppose I'll see you in class. Or, wait, maybe not, since it seems to me you have some sort of grand death wish upon your head," he spat and strolled away.
"Nice meeting you," I called sarcastically over my shoulder.
It didn't matter what I said or did. This was all just one big mistake my mind conjured up. I remembered back to the last meeting with my doctor. "You're schizophrenic, Clarissa. I know it's not something you'd want to hear, but it's what we've concluded," Dr. Thorne had said with a sad looked splayed about his face. I shuddered at the memory and hurried up the side of the building, up the pipe that I'd so recently climbed down. I crawled into my single bed and closed my eyes, thinking to myself that at least I'd gotten a badass drawing out of this hallucination.

o.O.o

The next morning was a blur. I sat up remembering all that had "happened" last night. I shivered and pulled on a dark green sweater and black jeans, pulling on my green sneakers moments after. There wasn't much I could do with my hair except braid it, and I did just that. With my two braids bouncing on my shoulders, my messenger bag at my side, I hurried into the kitchen and took my morning dosage of medication.
I was out the door in no time at all, on my way to school with Simon at my side. He looked at me with furrowed brows, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His dark eyes swirled with puzzlement, and I finally asked him why he was looking at me so oddly.
"You seem spooked. I was just worried is all," he sputtered.
"I'm fine, really. I just get crazy dreams," I assured him.
"Well, maybe coming to my band's show tonight would help take your mind off of it? It's just down the block from the school, really. At this awesome place called Taki's."
He spoke with such excitement that even I could feel it bubbling up deep in my stomach. I smiled, and nodded slowly, my curls bouncing on my shoulders.
"Yeah, I think I'd like that," I said as we walked into the school.

o.O.o

I entered the English class and grudgingly took my seat next to Golden Boy. His eyes were hard set, just as I'd imagined them the night before. I studied him then. The tattoos still hugged his body, from what I could see. I thought back to how he'd smiled at me with that dazzling, crooked smile. A cut had run the length of his face last night. I searched his face, but it just wasn't there today. My heart seemed to plummet to my stomach and I sank in my chair. I really was schizophrenic. I bit my lip hard, tasting blood. I looked back at Jace and he winked.
"Nice seeing you last night," he said mockingly with a sour grin.

AN:
End of Chapter. Sorry again for the long wait, everyone! So thankful for summer vacation and all this time to nothing and everything. R&R, please!

Ashley