Our Favorite Mortal Instruments Quote of the Chapter:
"My father believed in a righteous God. Deus volt, that was his motto—'because God wills it'. That was the Crusaders motto, and they went out to battle and were slaughtered, just like my father. And when I saw him lying dead in a pool of his own blood, I knew then that I hadn't stopped believing in God. I'd just stopped believing that God cared. There might be a God, Clary, and there might not, but I don't think it matters. Either way, we're on our own."
-Jace
Jace's P.O.V
I sit in the car for hours watching the darkness turn darker and darker and then finally lighter as the sun starts to tint the sky. The cold of the car bites into my bones and, mercifully, makes me numb. I don't allow myself to think or feel. I would have happily sat here for hours, staring blankly out the widow and not thinking, but sadly reality lies right outside the world I've created for myself and it's waiting for me to return. My cell rings, shaking me out of my stupor.
"Hello." The only sound is soft static. "Hello?"
"Hello. We're calling to inform you that your credit score—" I quickly disconnect then step out of the car and into the open air, shivering as the wind picks up and nearly pushes me over. I don't realize how cold I am until I glance at my quivering, blue tinted fingers. I hurry into the building which remains unlocked at all hours of the day.
Although almost every light in the building is off, it's still very much awake. I always forget how alive this place is, how the walls breathe around us, living just as much as its residents. The sounds of the first floor flood around me. Loud snoring, soft guitar music and the smell of popcorn floods the hallways. The people sounds mingle with the sounds of the hundred year old building. The ever constant sound of the groaning elevator that runs all through the night, the air conditioner in the lobby that never gets turned off, even in the winter, and the smell of dust and years of wear. I love this place, from the urine stain in the corner to the sleeping redhead with bright green eyes sleeping two floors above me.
I walk up the stairs like I always do. I've spent too much time in a cell to be comfortable in a tiny moving box. I ease the front door to the apartment, noting, like always, the dent in the wall created by my fist. I still have to fix that.
Isabelle is sleeping on the couch, the TV still on and an empty bowl of popcorn on her lap. I switch of the television, which is running re-runs of Gilmore Girls, and put the empty bowl in the kitchen. I carefully lift her into my arms and carry her into her room. Her eyes flutter open briefly then shut again.
"What'cha doin'" she asks me, her voice hazy with sleep.
"Go back to sleep, Izzy."
"Mm'kay." She rests her head against my shoulder with a contented sigh. I set her carefully in her bed and put the comforter over her shoulders. She's already asleep by the time I leave her room.
I don't bother changing or showering. I just fall into bed, ready to end this endless day.
Sleep eludes me. I lie on my back, above the covers on my bed, staring at the swirling patterns the spackle makes on the ceiling. The red light of my alarm clock casts long shadows across the room, making the simplest of objects look frightening. Not that I'm afraid of the dark. There are a million things more frightening than the dark. Maybe even a million and one.
My heart thumps in my chest as my frantic mind runs over everything that went wrong tonight. Things should have gone differently. I curse the dark alleys of my mind for dragging me into them. The memories beat me then leave me slumped against the walls, confused, pained and unable to think my way out of the maze.
Light filters through my open window. I glance outside, only able to see a sliver of blue, unmarked by clouds, which promises another beautiful day. I turn my head away, not wanting to see how the world seems to keep going without me. The sun rises higher into the sky. The hours turn to six, then seven. I hear Izzy and Alec wake up and make breakfast. The TV turns on, blaring the morning news. I beg my body to allow me to sleep for just an hour.
When that doesn't work I pray to God, something I haven't done since I was ten years old. He doesn't listen either.
My mind flashes to the bottle of sleeping pills I finished last week. They were prescribed to help me sleep after I came back. I don't think I've ever wanted something more.
Five hours pass. Thoughts of Clary are never far off. Why am I so worked up over her? She's just a girl. That becomes my motto. I chant it in my head over and over again.
She's just a girl.
Just a girl.
A girl.
My girl
The only girl…
At around one, Alec and Izzy start talking just loud enough so that I can hear snippets of their conversation.
"…still in bed?"
"…came home late."
"…he alright?"
"…worried about him."
The door to the apartment opens and shuts. I let out a breath, thinking I'm alone. A soft knock on my door tells me I'm wrong. I ignore it in hopes that whoever it is will go away. The door opens a sliver and Isabelle slips into the room.
"Jace?" she whispers. She tip-toes farther into the room. I glance at her concerned face. She balances a cup of steaming coffee in her hands as she sits softly at the foot of my bed. I flick my eyes up to the ceiling and studiously ignore her. "Is everything okay?"
"Go away, Isabelle," I say. My voice sounds weak and broken. I grimace at the sound of it. She stands and places the cup of coffee by my bed.
"You can talk to me, Jace."
"Go. Away. Isabelle," I say, my voice stronger and more scathing this time.
"No." She crosses her arms, looking down on me.
"Fine," I mutter, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and making my way to the closet.
"What are you doing?"
"Showering." I pull out a dark t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans then head towards the bathroom. Izzy follows me, her disapproving glare never moving from me. I shut the door to the bathroom and lock it.
"Jonathan Christopher Herondale!" she screams, pounding on the door. "You don't get to do this again!" I lean against the door and slowly exhale. It's quiet for a moment. "Please, Jace. Talk to me." Her voice is so soft and sad it breaks my heart.
"Not now, Izzy." I push myself to my feet and open the medicine cabinet, looking for anything strong enough to let me sleep.
"Jace! What are you doing!" Izzy sounds panicked. "Jace! Jace talk to me!" I don't say anything. "I can't do this again, Jace!" She sounds frightened and I curse myself for making her feel like that. Somewhere deep inside of me, I feel the tiny pieces of myself I've managed to piece together fall apart again. "I can't live with the PTSD you again." I fight the effect her words are having on me. "Please! We just got you back!"
"Later, Izzy. Talk to me later." My breathing speeds up and my hands start to shake.
"Please don't do this, Jace. I can't stand to lose you again!" She starts sobbing and begging me to let her in. And I can't. I know what happens when you let someone in and then lose them. My father. James Bragford. Now Clary.
Something inside of me snaps. Something fragile and very important. Something that's been breaking for a very long time.
I let out a sound stuck somewhere between a scream and a sob. My legs collapse from underneath me and my breathing speeds up. Images of red flash through my mind. Bright red blood and bright red hair. So much blood covering everything and coloring it that horrible color. Isabelle's pounding is like gunfire to me, pulling me into a battlefield hundreds of miles away. And there's Clary, dying a million times over. A gun to her head. A grenade resting in her open palm. A blossom of red blooming right over her heart. In every image she's screaming for me to help her and I can't move a muscle.
I curl up, praying for this to be over, praying to be dead. Anything. Anything at all that will take me away from this world. My stomach rolls and I dry heave. My muscles shake and convulse as I struggle to escape the world my mind's created for me but I'm sucked in deeper than I've ever been before.
Even through all of the pain one sentence sticks in my head, making me hurt more then I would have ever guessed possible.
I've lost her…
Lost her…
Lost…
Clary P.O.V
At around one o'clock I hear a pounding at the door. I'm sitting on the couch with Simon and a carton of Ben & Jerry's, divulging to him everything that happened the night before. Simon begrudgingly pulls himself off the couch and opens the door.
"Where's Clary?" says a frantic voice. A tall, slender girl with blue eyes and black hair pushes past Simon into the apartment. Isabelle. Her worried eyes, full of unshed tears, fall on me and she looks instantly relieved. "I need your help," she says, grabbing onto my arm and pulling me forward. I yank it out of her grasp.
"What are you doing?" I ask, raising my voice. Tears pour down her face.
"Please. Jace needs you."
"Well, he's on his own now. He decided it early this morning when he grabbed me." She looks at me like she's been slapped.
"Grabbed you? It's Jace. It didn't mean anythign." My jaw clenches at her words. I remember my childhood on the nights when my dad came home drunk. I remember a thousand fists and a thousand undeserved punishments. Broken bones and broken hearts. Nights spent with my brother in the closet, both of us praying he won't find us. I remember my mother disappearing and I remember thinking she's abandoned me and my brother. I remember feeling alone and unloved. I remember being too afraid to say anything to anybody. Even now.
"It meant something to me," I whisper. Simon's hand lands gently on my arm. I know he's guessed that my dad's abusive, but I've never admitted it to even him. I couldn't bear the thought of ripping our family farther apart. The tears come down faster on Isabelle's face.
"I am begging you, Clary. I am begging you to help my brother right now." I bite the inside of my lip, feeling fragile and broken hearted, but knowing what I have to do. I nod once.
She pulls me through the halls, up a flight of stairs and through a door. She stops in front of a door and her hand tightens around my arm. "He's in here," she whispers. The lock to the door's been broken. From behind the door, I smell vomit and hear a soft whimpering. I brace myself for what I'm about to see and push gently on the door. It swings open.
My heart drops.
Jace's P.O.V
A soft hand lands on my shoulder and I flinch away from it, gripping at my face, trying desperately to rip the visions and memories from my head. Small hands tighten around my wrists pulling them away from my face. Lips press against my ear and whisper into it.
"Jace. It's alright. It's all in your head." I struggle against the hands restraining me. The voices speaks again, but distantly this time. It's talking to someone, telling them about water.
The hot desert sands blow across my face. I take a swig out of my canteen and pass it to the soldier on my left…
"Snap out of it, Jace!"
I'm sitting in a room, my hands and feet chained together. The man in the turban looks into my eyes. "I can kill your family. I can destroy your country. I can ruin your entire life. And all it takes is this." He snaps his fingers.
Somewhere a door slams shut. Something cold runs over my face, cooling my heated skin. Another voice is introduced. "How can I help?"
I press my hands harder into the wound. Blood pours from between my fingers. I look around for someone, anyone, to help me. "There's nothing you can do to help him. He's as good as dead."
Hands pull me upward. I struggle weakly against them, feeling exhaustion crash over me. Suddenly my body hits cold water. My eyes focus for a moment and I see Alec, Isabelle and Clary—
"I can ruin your entire life, Jonathan—"
My vision clears again. Izzy's eyes are red from crying—
Chained to the wall in a five by five cell—
Alec, his closed fist pushed firmly against his mouth as he struggles to keep control—
Fighting to prevent Bragford's death—
Then Clary. She's gripping my hand tightly, her green eyes rimmed in red. And she's whispering something over and over—
Blood, blossoming in the place right above her heart—
I suck in a fast breath and force my eyes open. The bathroom walls swirls into focus and I can breathe again. Shivering over takes my body as the world snaps back into place.
"Jace?" Clary asks, her hand tightening around mine. My teeth chatter as I focus on her eyes and feel the smallest amount of hope blossom inside of me. "Someone get him dry clothes," she says. Isabelle hurries out of the bathroom. "Help me get him out," she says to Alec. He steps into the tub and leans down awkwardly beside me in order to loop my arm over his shoulder.
Together they hoist me onto the bathroom floor. Izzy walks in with a pair of boxers, flannel pants, a t-shirt, a sweat shirt, and socks. "Can you manage alone, Alec?" Clary asks him. He nods once.
I've lost her…
She tries to pull her hand away but I don't let her. She blinks like she's confused but sits beside me again. My eyes flicker shut. "Stay with me, Jace," she says.
"I'll get him water," Isabelle says. Clary moves so she's sitting behind me then gently lifts my head so that it's resting in her lap. My eyes flicker shut again, but Clary whispers into my ear, trying to keep me awake.
"You can go to sleep soon," she says. I feel my freezing jeans get pulled off my body, and then my boxers which are soon replaced by a dry pair. I want to do this myself. I don't want to appear weak, but I am right now. So painfully weak. The simple act of keeping my eyes open is proving nearly impossible.
Clary sits me up and slides my shirt off of me. Alec pulls on a clean one and then the sweat shirt. The shivering subsides slightly. Izzy hands Clary a glass of water and she helps me drink. The water feels amazing on my throat.
"Help me get him to his room," Clary says. She shifts one of my arms over her shoulder and Alec does the same on my other side. The half carry me to my room then lie me in bed. I open my eyes just in time to see Clary start to walk away. With the last reserves of my strength, I reach out and grab her. She looks startled.
"Don't leave me," I mutter weakly. She meets my pleading eyes. "Please." My voice is barely a whisper, so soft I'm surprised if she can hear it at all. She inhales deeply then climbs into bed beside me. I lift my leaden arms and wrap one around her, trying to pull her closer. She gets what I'm trying to do and moves closer. She's so warm against my shivering body. I tilt my head so that my nose is buried in her hair and breathe her in. The last thing I notice before I drift off to sleep is the feeling of warm tears against my frozen neck.
Questions, comments, and criticism are (like always) much appreciated. Thank you for reading!