I punched at the bag, over and over as the sweat trickled down my face. I lose myself in anger, fury at nothing at all, just this punching bag. I hate this, I hate what I have become, I'm just a washed up fighter with no one to stand by him. Am I even that? My arms ached and my fists struggled to relax after I gave one last hit. I breathed deeply, slowing down my heart rate. I was in my uncle's gym, well I guess it's my gym now, but it will always be his, it was closed but I inherited a key. This is where my uncle taught me to fight, this is where we trained, and this is where I became strong. I grabbed my water bottle and chugged it. turning my eyes to the floor, it was stained with my blood in many spots of the room, my uncle always said I needed to learn to back down before I got myself killed, to learn when I can't win, I never did.

I and my uncle never got along great, he always said I was my father, arrogant, pathetic and too smart for my own good, he loved me but he would never have admitted it. He was that kind of person to never ask for help, or to tell you they cause trouble. My uncle was rich, owned a lot of business, and made a lot of under the table deals. He was caught in a hit in run last year, the cops stopped looking and that would probably be for the best but I knew my uncle, it would take a plan to kill him. Out there somewhere, a man is flaunting his success at killing him, taking the one person I had left and somehow he had benefited from my uncles death.

I slammed the bottle of water on the floor; the water drenches the wood through the torn plastic as I fell to my knees. I buried my face in my hands, feeling tears stream down my face and fall in my palms, I sob for what felt like forever.

The pain stopped, for now. I stood up and looked at the time down on my phone, fucking three in the morning. I grabbed my bag and left, locking the door behind me. my motel room was only a few blocks away, so I walked, leave it to me to be the dumb ass walking alone in new York at night, I'm fucking stupid. I listened to the soft scuff of my shoes on the side walk, the city was quite tonight. Cars passed, lights flickered and wind blew chilling me.

I got to my crappy motel room and unlocked the door, closing it behind me I cast my bag down, I needed a shower. I grabbed a towel and had a quick shower in the bathroom and of all things to think about in a hot steamy room, I thought about that girl from last week. Not a day had went by that she hadn't slipped into my mind, Clary, fuck I loved that name. Since my uncle died I hadn't found anyone I wanted to be close to, until her, when I saw her sitting there alone, I just couldn't help but walk over. I hadn't known she was who she was, an artist, my favored artist. her art was so beautiful, so true, I guessed it was how she expressed herself, her anger, her hate, her needs, I could tell by her work she was lonely, I was lonely.

I got out of the shower and changed into a pair of pajama pants, I looked around the room I had been living in for a year. It had a closet, TV, dresser and a bed, the fucking bed. I was the kind of guy who picked girls up all the time, not really intentionally, they chased me, I just fucked them and kicked them out, what can I say I'm an asshole. This place had begun to feel cold, the stale muggy smell and I no longer wanted to sleep in that bed. It had hit me a while ago I would have to go home, to the place my uncle raised me, to the house I inherited in his will, and I needed to go there. I looked at the date and decided tomorrow was going to be the day I finally face my past; I finally leave this disgusting place.

I climbed into the bed I hated, covered under the covers and protected by the darkness of the room as I turned off the lamp. I closed my eyes and drifted off.

OOOooOOOOoooOOOOOoooo

I stood in front of my old home leaning against my black Harley. I wasn't sure if I could go inside, or even step on the property. Just the thought of being here had ruined me for so long; when he died it didn't feel real, I thought I would walk through his office door and find him working at his desk. I knew that couldn't happen, and truthfully I didn't know how I felt about it, my body was numb in my pathetic fear of the place I was raised.

when my parents died, I remember my uncle walking into the room I was given, patting my head as my tears stained the fluffy pillows, silently he laid a picture on my bed and left. The picture was of me and my dad, he had kept it on his desk, it was of me tossed over his shoulder on Christmas morning, we were laughing. All through my childhood I held it in my sleep, no teddy bear, just this picture. Right up until I was sixteen and burned it in a fit of rage, I was breaking down and it was the only thing I had left of them. My fists clenched underneath my folded arms, I was acting pathetic, blaming them for dying. I hated myself and every other person on this earth, because of the lies I told in the past, lies like "no, I didn't see him" or "no, I'm not afraid of the man who killed my parents", lies I'm still telling.

There was a loud crash in the yard next door, followed by a women's voice yelling "shit". Instinct drove me towards the notice, holding my fists as power flowed through my veins, forgetting the fury that was there just a moment ago. I search for a sign of distress, when I noticed a woman with bright red hair jump from a low branch on a tree, strange.

"Um excuse me, are you alright?" she turned around fast startled, confusion and shook was written all over her face, but it was me who was confused. There stood clary, the girl I had met at a bar a little over a week ago; the girl I hadn't went a day without thinking about, how ironic. She was wearing black jeans and a simple blue tank, it fit her. Her cheek was smeared with what looked like orange paint with a light blush creeping up from behind it.

"Jace?" she said, I didn't trust my voice so I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. I felt like a stalker, I hoped she didn't think I was stalking her. Her hands went to her hips, "what are you doing here" what were you doing in a tree?

I let my hands relax when I realized they may be threatening and took a deep breath. Pointing at the house I said "I was next door and heard a crash followed by a women screaming" I managed to say it without stumbling, thank god. it was funny but looking at her know she reminded me of a girl I went to school with, I never knew her name of talked to her but they seemed similar.

"That place has been empty for a long time, what were you doing there" she asked as her eyes went cloudy and she nibbled on her bottom lip, I could tell it was a habit. Could I tell this women I barely knew what I was doing here, or did I know more about her then I thought I did.

"Well you could say I own it" I mumbled tucking my hands into my pockets with a shrug, not daring to look at her. This whole compensation was strange, she was a girl I met in a bar, the first girl I didn't take back to my room and fuck, but why didn't I. I didn't need to explain myself to her, who was she to interrogate me? I tried to believe this meeting was my fault and she really didn't have the right to question me, after all I came here to save her, but I knew I wouldn't blame her. It had somehow been a shock but I was glad to see her.

"I knew the man who lived there" she stated and I met her eyes, they were cold and filled with sadness "he used to watch me paint; he'd stop by and talk to me, sometimes tell me about this boy he raised. This boy who grew up and left him, this man he missed more than anything" I'm limbs shake and I once again tasted regret on my tongue, it was sour and vile. "Is Jace short for Jonathon?" I nodded. I hadn't realised he had missed me, he never called, never picked up when I called, never invited me to visit. I was angry again. "I should leave" I turned my back on her, shielding myself form her judgement. I bowed my head in shame; I never should have come back.
Something small clamped onto my shoulder, a hand, her voice came soft. "Don't go" her hand was gentle and my body without permission relaxed under her touch, it wasn't like me to relax around anyone, it was a precaution, I was always tense. After a while of standing like this she spoke again," im sorry" her hand retracked, i wanted to move, to leave her but i couldnt, my feet wouldnt follow as i comanded.