Okay, first of all, hello, but, second of all… I now I haven't posted in about a month… I'm really disappointed that I've let the date drag on that long. I've been stuck into my reading then I've been texting my friends a lot, then, my laptop hasn't been the best lately. It's been really slow, but I just know recently got it working faster, so, I hope I'll be able to update more often. Know that I've got the first couple of chapters a go, I think I might be able to get into this story smoother. It's unsurely just the first couple of chapters that get to me. So, anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

"Look over there, you see that girl? She's a weir-do! All she does is draw."

"Pathetic!"

"I hear she won't let anyone see what she's drawing and she never takes off her jacket or roll up her sleeves. Creep."

That's almost everything I heard when I walked down the halls. People scrunched up together in bunches, heads bent together, all looking out to me as if I was an alien that just landed. Some would whisper to each other quietly among themselves, but others would yell it out for everyone can hear and laugh along with them. I was humiliated. I had my hair cover the side of my face to try and use it as a protective border as I lowered my head and went head first into the crowd of people, trying to head to my next class as quick as possible. I made sure to get my books into my book bag so I could just carry that around and not head to my locker. I don't want to have to make extra stops. Then, there would be bigger chanced for me to be caught in the middle of something, and that would desperately suck. I don't know if there was anything ells that could make this day worse; there was only I guess one other thing that could happen… if my dad's in an angry mood when I get home. I would for sure get a beaten if he wasn't happy. I didn't want to have to go through that on my first day back from school. He's been there before; doesn't he know how it's like to be bullied?

Finally, I was at art class. A small smile bloomed onto my otherwise stone set face. I stepped into the door of the room and walked in. There weren't many people in the class, maybe about 3 or 4, but it was enough to get my nerves on end. I scanned the faces, but realest a breath when I saw that none of them were the people who have been whispering about me today, or that I knew of.

I walked down the aisles of desks and finally picked on the one in the far back, right corner. No one was close by. That was a good thing. I sat my book bag down on the floor and instantly dug in for my notebook and different shaded pencils, ready and eager to start this class. I flipped to a clear page and started drawing random things I saw in the class room. As my hand flaw across the page, almost like it was drawing with its own mind, I failed to notice the teacher walking in along with the other students. I never lifted my head, not until I heard the teacher start taking did I look up.

"Greetings, class-"

"What the heck is his problem?" laughed a boy who sat next to me. I turned my head to see a boy with fair blond hair and bright blue eyes. His muscles shown through his simple black T-shirt, and let me say the least, he was striking. I sucked in a breath as my hand absently went over and touched my right arm, feeling the cut lying just underneath the fabric of my shirt.

"Mr. Wayland, I think it would be in your best interest to redirect your attention to the front of the class, and to pay attention." The teacher said in a stern voice. His arms were crossed over his chest as he stared the guy with the fair hair down. The person next to me nodded his head. When the teacher looked away from him an addressed the rest of the class, a smirk slipped onto his face. He turned around to quietly talk to the guy that was on his other side. I tried to tear my eyes away from him, but I found my sell looking back at him in wonderment. Who was he? Was he nice, well, I probably already knew that one. He just insulted a teacher. Obviously he's one of the many bad boys that must crowd this school. I probably would be a good idea to stay away from him. I don't need any more trouble than there already is, and besides, it's not like he would ever take notice in the new girl who hides her face and who comes to school with a new scar that she lets nobody sees.

Nobody would ever take notice in me. Never. I would never let that happen.

I looked back up to the front at the teacher started to talk again, in a much more calmer tone then he used before for the guy with fair hair.

"Now, my name is Mr. Blackborne and I'm going to be your art teacher for this semester. For our first lesson, I thought we would start with something easy to get our creative juices flowing. We are going to be making an collogue of your family and interests. You must draw the pictures and use whatever utensil you like. I will expect it to be done by the end of next week." This got me going. My hand shot up. Mr. Blackborne called on me.

"Yes, Miss…?"

"Fray," I answered. My hand slowly lowered and clutched my other hand tightly in my lap, suddenly feeling less confident with the while class looking at me know. I lowered my eyes till I was looking at my desk. "Umm, I was wonder-"

"Speck up mumbles." Fair hair said next to me. I dared to look over at him. He was leaning back against his chair with his arms crossed and his feet up on the desk. He was looking at me with a smirk on his face. Did that smirk ever go away? I blew out a breath and looked over at the teacher who was looking back at me, expectantly.

"I was wondering," I started off in a louder voice. "How big can it be?" I asked. Mr. Blackborne's eyebrow rose. He looked at me with curious eyes. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Whatever you like, I guess. As long as it can fit through the door." I nodded my head. I was glad to there that. I game off a little smile as I lowered my head back to my desk, drumming my pencil in between my figures on the table. "Any other questions?" When nobody said anything, he nodded his head. "Get to work."

Instantly, different things popped into my head that I could draw. The flowers that sit outside our house, those are pretty, the beach I saw back in California, that was a very pretty place. There were the trees that I saw back in Washington when we went down there two years ago. There were a lot of places that I've seen during the years that I thought of breathtaking. I always wanted to sketch them, but, I didn't have to time. I remember back in California, at the beach I saw, there was where I had shot the gun in the man's chest when he was walking to the waves with his wife… then, in Washington when I was just 13 years old; I had to run across the road when another guy in his forties drove across the road. He swerved off the road, wrecked and died as I went to ran back to the trees and then ran back to the house we were living at when we were there.

Every memory I had of beautiful places, they were associated with bad memories. Memories where I had killed a person by the orders of my father. I had no memories that were ever clean and innocent. I would never have any memories that were only good and no evil in it. That would be a dream, but a dream that I can't have. My dad would take it away from me in a blink of an eye.

I was snapped out of my day dream with a slight tapping on my desk. I looked up, my eye brows scrunched together. I looked up to see the guy with the fair hair looking down on me. He was leaning out of his seat and his body practically spread out over the aisle, to my desk where his hands where on.

"Psst, hay, can I borrow a pencil?" He asked. I was confused on why he would be asking me, but I nodded, not wanting to sound mean. I sat my own pencil down and reached down to my book bag, grabbing a pencil and holding it out to fair hair. When I looked back at him, he was gazing down at what I've drown on my notebook. I wasn't sure myself. When I looked and saw what I had drew, my hands shot out, slapping the book closed and clutching it close to my chest. His head snapped up towards me, his eyes were no longer a light blue, they were now a deep blue… what did that mean? His lips were set in a straight line. What was he thinking? I really want him to leave and not pay attention to me. I was too embarrassed at what he might think about what I had drawn. I knew what it meant in my eyes. It was of dad scolding me from the other day, and of Jonathan standing just behind him, that same hard look that saw covered in anger. The same expression he always wore. They both stood there in the new house in the parlor. It was exactly what I had seen from my eyes.

It was stating how my father is strict and not the easy going father that other people have. And it was showing how my brother is mean and cruel to me. Did the fair hair guy think of the same thing?

I held the pencil in my hand and slowly handed it out to the guy. He looked at the pencil like he was wondering what in the world I was doing, but, realization came upon his face. He nodded his head in my direction and grabbed the pencil.

"Thanks." The fair hair guy said. But, something in his voice caught my attention. It was strained. Was he straining to be nice? What did I do? If I looked through his eyes, what would I see? I nodded my head, silently telling him your welcome. The guy then went back to sitting in his desk correctly, and started drawing on a piece of paper. I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding. What would he think of me know that he saw the picture I had drawn of my father and brother?

But, the real question was, why did I care what he thought of me? What was it about him that made me not want to look like a freak to him who had family problems?

Why were feelings so confusing? I wished they were simpler. I could pass up on what I've done during most of my life easier if feeling weren't confusing. Life would be easier.

I spent the rest of class drawing little pictures of different flowers and trees and ponds and lakes until I had a couple of black and white pages done of them. I debated whether to add color when the bell run for lunch. I frowned. I wanted to have more time to draw. Maybe I would be able to at lunch? I crossed my fingers, hoping I could.

I packed my art supplies into my bag and zipped it up. I went to pick it up with my right hand, but regretted it. I instantly let the book bag fall back down to the floor as a pain went through my arm, starting at the cut that dad gave me last night. I tried to shake it off, but I couldn't. I felt the wetness underneath my sleeve. My sleeve started to stick to my skin as the blood wetted the spot. I re-opened the cut. I sucked in a breath as I bit the inside of my cheeks. I wanted to let out a wince and cry, but I couldn't. I was in school and they would think I was too weird if I went to the bathroom know. I couldn't take any more of their whispers. I went and picked up my book bag with my left hand and gingerly lifted it and swung it over my left shoulder. I was shaking so bad that it was hard to slip my other arm around the other strap of the book bag. I got through it though. I got the backpack on and I looked around the class room. There were only a couple of students left in the room, packing their bags. Probably the ones who were left like me, where the artistes. They probably axially used more colors and things and put work in there art projects. I liked it thinking there was more than just me who loved to draw, that took pride in their drawing. It made me feel less alone. But, still, I always know deep down in my heart there's a part that I will forever always be alone in.

The barring of knowing that you've killed countless people out of your abusive father's warnings. No one would ever know what it's like to feel that much guilt weighing down on you like a ton of bricks.

I sighed, thinking there was nothing I could do about that in the moment. I slowly walked to the door and exited. I had to take slow and small steps, I was feeling slightly dizzy. I looked down at my hand a little bit and saw the first traces of a sickly dark red glob. I quickly pulled my sleeve over my hands in hopes no one would see the blood. If they did, they would ask questions, and I couldn't tell them what really happened; and I don't think I'm the best liar. I think they would find out that I was lying and they would be suspicious.

I didn't want them to be. That would be bad.

"Hay, umm, Clarissa?" Asked an all too familiar voice from my right. I turned around, and standing right outside the art room door was the fair hair boy. I cringed when he said my full name.

"Please," I started. I went for looking into his eyes, but when he stared back down at me, it was all too much. I diverted my eyes to the floor, not daring to meet his eyes. "Don't call me Clarissa. I go by Clary." I said. Only my dad or Jonathan would call me that, and to anybody ells, if they called me that, it's like a slap in the face. It was almost like saying I'm about to beat you up. That's what my father would do.

"Ok, Clary." He said, trying out the name. He nodded his head like he approved. "Here's your pencil you let me borrow. Thanks." He said. I looked up at him, shocked that he would be thanking me for something. I don't know why, but he didn't seem like the guy to thank someone for something. Did he usually? More and more un-answered questions kept on racking up. It was driving me crazy.

I stifle nodded and grabbed the pencil with my left hand. I then shoved it into the pocket of my hoodie. "You're welcome." I answered back. Thinking of nothing ells to say, I stepped back, turned around, and headed down the hall to what I was pretty sire was the lunch room. If not, I would be worried why there was a big crowd. I walked through the crowd, and finally, I got into the lunch room. When I got in, I looked around.

It was filled.

It seemed like there wasn't a table that wasn't filled with students. There would be no way I was going to be able to get a seat in here. I felt a breeze coming from up ahead of me. I looked up to see that the door to the outside yard was open, and outside sat a couple of groups of students and some loners here and there. I headed there.

I ducked my head down low as I walked past the tables, hoping no one saw me, but, again, the whispers fired back up.

"Look, there she is again."

"Look how she pulls her sleeves down? I bet she cuts herself." Another girl scuffed. I tried to ignore them all, but I couldn't seem to. It went right to my heart. I wanted to get away from there as fast as possible. I picked up speed, ignoring the throbbing in my arm, and went outside. One I was out, I sighed. It was a relief being outside and in the open air. It cleared my head just the slightest. I looked around and wondered where I should go, then, I saw a tree not too far off to the right. No one was close to it. That would be a good place to draw. I headed over there, sat down, pressed by back against the trunk and pulled my lags up to my chest. I pulled out my notebook and I got the pencil from my pocket, the one the fair hair guy had used, and started drawing. I done the best I could to ignore the pain in my arm.

Jace's POV

I watched from my table as Clary sat down and started to draw outside.

As I sat there, something bugged my mind about all of this. How could someone so shy and nice as her be the one behind all those killings? How could she be the daughter or Valentine Morgenstern? How could that even be right? Maybe they got it wrong. There was no way Clary could harm a fly. Or was that just one of the things that she acts in order to get everybody to think she was sweet and innocent? What were Clary's and her father's real motives?

I watched closely, watching to see anything out of the ordinary. But, I came up with none. I could study her all day long and come up with nothing. I watched as her hand flew across her notebook, drawing who knows what. I wondered why her picture in art class met. I knew it right away. It was a picture of Valentine and Jonathan Morgenstern. Any Shadowhunter would see a picture of them and instantly know who they were.

Just when I was about to give up on trying to find out something about her, I saw it. Her arm as I moved around the notebook is shook. I saw as she gently bit her lip with her teeth like she was trying to hold in a wince of a scream. What happened with her arm? Did she hurt it? Why would she be drawing with it if it hurt her? What was going on with her? I would think with being the daughter of Valentine Morgenstern, Clary would be mean and evil, but, she was quite the opposite, surprisingly.

"Hay, Jace! Come look at this." Bradley said, drawing my attention away from Clary and to him who was sitting at the same table as me, an IPod in hand. I nodded, indicating I was coming. I took one last glance at Clary as she sat there, drawing, before I turned around and looked at the video Bradley was showing me of some gamer named Pewdipie on YouTube.

The finally bell rang.

"Yes," I said as I let out a sigh. I was glad the end of the day was here. I didn't have to be cramped in here at this school anymore. I was relived.

I packed my book bag quickly and slung it over my right shoulder. I was ready to get out of this place. I walked over to the exit and escaped the classroom. I walked down the crowded hall until I was leaving out the front doors, stepping out into the cool breeze. I brushed my hands through my hair and nodded to a couple of girls who were standing by, gawking my way. When I did, they giggled like maniacs. I smirked at them, when really; I wanted to roll my eyes at them. I hated all the attention I got here. Yes, sometimes it's nice to be popular, but, it can get annoying when girls are throwing themselves at you at every corner. It was ridicules.

I continued on down the side walk until I was out of the school yard and getting away from the people there and there annoying habits. I pulled my phone out and popped my head phones into my ears, hitting play on my favorite song, Over my head (Cable Car) by The Fray. I listened as I belted the song as loud as I can get it. I hummed to it,

Everyone knows I'm in,

Over my head,

Over my head,

With eight seconds left in overtime,

She's on your mind,

She's on your mind,

I was stopped in my tracks when I heard something just a little bit up ahead of me. I looked up and saw just there, walking down the side walk, was Clary. I saw her holding a little device -I think it's a flip phone? - and she had ear phones in, and she was singing. I knew the song she was singing, too. That was surprising.

Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend,

Somewhere along in the bitterness,

And I would have stayed up with you all night,

Had I known how to save a life,

"What the heck?" I mumbled. I shook my head. This was all too strange. First, she's all nice and shy in school, know, after school, while she's waling home, she's listening to How To Save a Life, but The Fray. Who was this girl, and why did she seem to innocent? I could hardly believe she was acting. I guess she was trained from the best, Mr. Valentine Morgenstern, the pro of getting into your mind and changing it up. But, to find out the truth, the only option I have is to question her face on. This was my job, and I wasn't going to let anybody down.

I made my desertion in an instant, and went through with it without thinking.

I turned off my music, stuffed it into my pocket, clutched my book bag, and jogged forward until I was next to Clary. She turned around right when I got close to her and yanked her head phones out. She let them hand around her neck as she stuffed her phone in her pocket. Instantly, I grabbed onto her right arm and pulled her to a stop, making sure to keep my grip firm and tight so she wouldn't be able to get away. I already had her, I wasn't going to lose her. I and the rest of the Shadowhunter's needed answers.

"Tell me everything you know about Valentine Morgenstern and don't leave out anything." I threatened. I pulled my face close to her face, hoping to get her to tell the truth. I've been able to do it to other girls before. Hopefully it worked on her. Instead, all I got out of her was her eye brows knitting together as she bit both of her lips. But I didn't miss it.

She winced.

"P-please… let go of my arm." Clary said. Her voice wavered and she winced again at the end. I loosened my grip on her a little big, but not letting go fully. This could be a trick. She could be tricking that she's in pain and to let go of her so she could escape. I wouldn't let that happen. Valentine would hear about it from her and then he would be coming after us if he really wanted. She couldn't tell him neither Jonathan about this.

"I'm not letting to until you answer my questions." I hissed through my teeth. Why couldn't people just fallow what they are supposed to do? I sighed. People.

"P-P-please." Clary stuttered. I looked at her dead in the eyes, but when I looked, her eyes glistened. Was she… she was trying to hold back tears. I shook my head. No, she was acting. This is all just an act Valentine wants her to perform for me. Until, I felt it. At first I thought my hand were sweating, or she was, but it was a different texture. It was more, thick. I instantly knew that on her arm wasn't sweat. It was something interlay different. I moved in a flash. I removed my hand from her arm and instead, held her right hand out as I looked at it. I couldn't see anything since she was wearing a hoodie and long sleeve, but I felt it. I felt the thickness and wetness of what I knew was blood. I gingerly lifted the fabric up on her arm until it was revealing blood surrounding her lower arm. I was sickened. I felt as Clary's arms shook in my hand. I heard the whimper as I placed a gentle finger on her arm. She pulled back instantly. I looked up as Clary took a clumsy step back, she was holding her wounded arm to her chest know. As I looked, I saw how much her body trembled. I saw the tears escaping her green eyes and cascade down her cheeks. She looked utterly hurt. There was no acting here. This was real. She got hurt, and bad, and she's bleeding… a lot. And none of this is acting. I'm almost positive that this isn't some sick joke of Valentine. He wouldn't be this clever to think of a stunt like this.

I needed answers.

"What happened? How did you get this? When did you get this?" I demanded. Clary took another shaky step backwards. She was afraid. She wouldn't tell me though. Minuets came and went and she wouldn't say anything. She kept silent as she trembled and silently cried. Every once and a while she would let out a hurt wince.

From somewhere inside of me, I wanted to help this small, fragile girl. I didn't know what was up with her cut, but I wanted to know. Seeing her here like this, trembling in pain as she clutched her bleeding arm to her chest was all too much for me to bare without doing something. I couldn't just let her go back home while she's trembling and bleeding like that. She could get hurt.

And for the first time ever, I discovered that I was worried about someone. And I wanted to help.

"Clary," I said in a soft tone. I riley say things in a soft voice. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to see your cut and see if I can help." I said a I put both hands in front of me, hoping this would help her to let me see her cut. I was worried that she would lose a lot of blood and she would pass out. She was already shaking from head to toe.

Clary shook her head slightly. Barley even an inch. "No.. I-I have to go b-b-b-ba," I watched as she shook her head again like she was trying to restrain something. But what? Clary swayed on her feet. My eyes grew wide. I stepped forward, closer to her, ready at any second to catch her if she started to fall. I stepped up at the right time. Clary let out a chocked wince as she fall… into my arms. I quickly caught her and swooped her into my arms. My legs encircled the backside of her knees and her back. I pulled her to my chest and Clary weekly pulled her hurt arms up, placing it gently on her chest.

"Everything is going to be fine, Clary. I'm going to bring you to my house and I'll patch up your arm. Don't worry." I whispered into Clary's ear. She whimpered. She tried to keep her eyes open. I knew she was losing a great amounts of blood. I need to get her arm patched before she loses anymore. I started running in an instant, I ran as fast as I could with Clary in my arms to my house not too far away. Clary pressed her head against my chest, probably out of tiredness, but, I heard her say something. I glanced down at her as I caught her lips moving and a little, pained voice came out.

"If I'm not home… Valentine will beat me…. Again..." Clary then passed out. Her eyes fluttering closed as her breathing slowed down a little bit, telling me she was sleep.

I looked down at her in horror.

"Valentine beats her…" I mumbled to myself. Everything slowly came together.

Clary was in trouble, and I needed to save her.

I hope you liked that chapter! I'm not sure when my next chapter is going to be, but I'm going to try to get is up pretty quick. I'm sorry again for the big time gap I've had for my last couple of chapters. So, next chapter is chapter five, and, I know the rest of the Lightwoods will be mentioned/in the next chapter. Review, Fallow, or Favorite! It would help me a bunch if you guys tell me what they like or don't like about my story. I would be happy to change things up a little if you guys think I have to.

I mentioned the songs {Over my head (Cable Car) by The Fray.} and {How To Save a Life by The Fray} I recommend you guys to check those songs out. They are amazing! Also, if you love, love, love, reading, I recommend you read my favorite series ever! It's {The Academy Series by C.L. Stone} If you go to amazon and if you get the kindle books they have on there, the first one if on there for free; it's called {Introductions} There's other books in the series, like the next book is called {First Days} then there's more. But, I think you guys should check it out. It's absolutely amazing! It's about Sang Sorenson and just… I don't want to spoil it. But, if you like to read about a group of REALLY nice and sweat guys, with a twist of mystery and drama, this is the book for you. {The Academy series by C.L. Stone} I hope you check that out.

Ok, here's my last thing… I've been working on my first novel. I pretty much got the plot done; I just need to make supporting details and then wright it all down. I've got about 7,000 words on Microsoft word, and I would love it if you guys read a little bit of it. I don't think I should post the first couple of pages of my novel on here, I think I already crowded this up too much with me talking, but please, if you are interested, review or PM me and ask for a little bit of the story. That would help me out soo much if you read a little of it and see what you think of it. But, you don't have to. Just to give you an idea, it's about a girl names Juliette Hawthorn, a girl who lived with her 10 other siblings and her parents. Something bad happens in Ellinwood, Kansas so they all move to Topeka, Kansas, and that's where Juliette starts meeting these new people, and the mystery about what happened I Ellinwood is still boring into Juliette and she's stuck. She doesn't know what to do. Her new friends help he and stuff, but other stuff happens.

Like I said, there's going to be more about it, but that's just a little bit to see if that sparks your interests and to see if you would like to read about my first chapter or so of my story. Hope you do!

Sorry for bugging you guys soo much with this last part.. I'll start writing chapter five for A broken Family and blah, blah, blah…

See you guys! ~Love38999