Clary stared at the floor, her green eyes glazed with a far away look. Her whole body shook with the desperate need she had in her bones. Licking her dry lips for the hundredth time, she stood up from the old battered couch.

"What's taking him so long?" she asked the air.

She began to pace. Her hands were shaking really bad this time. Her head was exploding, the migraine unbearable. She glanced at the door, her eyes burring. She heard someone's nasty cough from the other room.

"Shut the fuck up, Alec!" she screamed.

Her whole body felt like it was on fire. The cursed watch that hung on the wall opposite the door ticked on. What felt like hours was really a second. Her throat felt constricted, snot ran down her face. She absentmindedly rubbed it away with the thin material of her green sweater. It hadn't been washed in months. She threw herself on the old couch, bringing her knees in. Her chin rested on the nubby bones.

A black stain was on the ceiling. It hadn't been there when they first bought the fucking apartment but someone had managed to get a piece of pizza to stick to the ceiling. The rest of the apartment had fared the same fate. Once clean and orderly, piles of pizza boxes and Chinese takeout containers crowded the area. The walls had writings and advertisements for good times from street prostitutes that had found themselves in the disasters parties of apartment 43.

Clary scratched her arm, the skin breaking. Blood found itself under her chewed down nails. She sighed, finding that the pain of the small incision brought her a just as small distraction from her want.

The nasty cough persisted, growing more loud and throatier. Clary covered her ears, rocking back and forth. The springs from within the couch complained adding to the increasing ache in her head. Her matted hair fell into her eyes. Patches of it had been yanked out from a fit she'd had a couple days prior. The bald spots had just begun to not sting.

Clary looked up as the culprit for the nasty cough made his way out of the one bedroom. He was tall and lanky. When she'd first met him, he'd been handsome, but now he was just a shell. The light muscles and the gracefull stance had chipped away. His blue eyes were blood shot and sunken in. His arms bruised, all of the blue-violet marks testifying to the abuse he was pushing into himself. His black hair hung in sweaty mess, long past his shoulders. It was just as matted as hers.

"Where the hell is he?" Alec asked, scratching his jaw.

He walked away from the doorway, his steps weak. He looked as if his body was caving in on itself. Clary imagined she looked far worse. He reached her and sat down on the couch. He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. With a sudden jerk, Alec leaned forward, reaching for the bong that laid on the coffee table. It was filthy, the fancy pattern it had before gone. He puffed at it.

"God, this shit is flat," he said, smoke puffing out of his mouth.

Clary was sweating, her hair sticking to her face. She felt the tremors getting worse. Glancing at Alec, she saw he wasn't faring better. He leaned forward, holding his stomach. His eyes were shut, the once brilliant blue hidden by veiny eyelids.

The front door suddenly kicked open. Clary raced to her feet and walked toward it. A man stood by it, his face gaunt and his honey colored eyes sad. He pulled his scarf off and thru it into a corner. His golden hair stuck to his neck and face, his whole face dotted with sweat. Clary halted as he slammed the door shut.

"Did you score?' she asked.

Her voice held a desperate note, carrying out into the lonely air.

"No," the man said, ranking his hands through his hair.

He dodged past her making his way to the messy kitchen. He opened the fridge with a shaky pull.

"What the hell do you mean no?" she asked, her voice growing shrill.

"Its drier than the fucking Mojave Desert," he yelled back.

Clary leaned against the wall, the agony spreading all around her. Alec started coughing again. He hacked and hacked, the gurtle sound terrible.

"You except us to go without dope for another fucking day? You piece of shit, Jace!" her voice carried.

The fridge door shut. Jace pounded his fist into it.

"For hell's sake, Clary! I've been lookin everywhere so we don't have to deal with this shit," he screamed back, shaking his head making sweat spray everywhere.

"Oh, oh, you've trying? I don't see anything to show for it," she screamed, her body shaking with the intensity.

"I've been freezing my ass off, and this," Jace pointed at her, "is what I get for it? Have a little sympathy."

"You loser! That's all you'll ever be! A fucking loser!" she screamed her voice rising even further.

She was suddenly against the wall, her back aching from the harsh push. Jace pushed against her, his cold fingers digging into her shoulders. His eyes were stormy, the beautiful gold of his eyes wild and angry. It was the only thing that remained from his former beauty. Tears streamed down his face.

"You really think that? I try so hard, baby," he leaned his forhead against hers, their breath mingling. His eyes were desperate, pained and shadowed.

Anger coursed through Clary, her face growing red.

"Yes, I do," she spits out, spittle spraying out her face.

She smiled at the defeated look that crossed Jace's face. His eyes lowered. He screamed out. Clary stared at him as he broke down in front of her, taking a high off of his misery. At least he had it much worse than her. He let her go and she crumpled to her knees.

"I hate you!" she screamed, hysterical giggles escaping her mouth.

Jace stumble back, his face pale. Clary smiled up at him.

"Father was right," he said, his voice flat.

"About what," she sneered.

"That love destroys."

He suddenly sprung on her, his eyes full of emotions. Clary's smile disappeared as she saw a gleam of a blade in his thin hand.

"No, Jace, don't… I LOVE YOU! Please," she begged.

She flinched away from his harsh smile. It spread out like a plague. His rotting teeth were on full display, the chip she'd found so endearing before waving at her. He breathed in heavily, his thin body heavy on top of her weak and even thinner one.

"Its not for you my angle, you have enough pain," he whispered.

He smiled sadly and brought the serrated knife to his throat. He laughed as he dug the blade into the sensitive skin.

"No! Baby, please stop! We can fix this!" clary screamed.

But Jace just held her hands down with one hand, his other sawing back and fourth, the skin parting harshly.

"This is so my princess can eat and get her dope. This is so she can afford those beautiful clothes I promised her and this is so she can–

His cut himself off, a sharp cry of feral pain filling the air. Clary screamed, blood coating her. She screamed for Alec to get help. But he was to far into the purple haze. She pushed herself away, running for the phone. But the help came to late.