Simon remembered everything from before, even though he would never speak of it aloud, his mind did otherwise. Those thoughts swarmed around his more pleasant thoughts and plunged him into a downward spiral. He knew when he followed Clary into the Shadow World, he would do anything to stick by her and protect her, though he never expected that it would come to this. He remembered being bitten after being taken from Magnus's loft to the Hotel Durmort, as well as when Raphael brought him covered in his own blood to the foot of the Institute. Clary's screams echoed across his memory still till that very day, no matter what he did, they wouldn't diminish. He remembered vaguely being buried alive, and holding Clary down to the ground, while his mind was telling him to stop, and that she was his best friend. She'd forgiven him, and knew it wasn't his fault, but he'd never forgive himself for what he did.
Now as he sat at the foot of his bed, an empty bottle of pills and an empty bottle of blood laid on the floor beside the bed. The remnants of blood soaking into the rug, it reminded him slightly of the blood that was on the deck of Valentine's ship, just after he had fed from Jace. Another thing he was ashamed of, was drinking from someone who had effectively helped saving his 'life'. If that's what he could call it now.
Leaning back his head against his duvet cover, his eyes narrowed and focused onto different parts of the room. The whole room was in the pitch of darkness, and everything was clear as crystal to him, which once upon a time would of freaked him out. Though he had to admit, it was probably one of the upsides to being in this state. Everything else was horrible, the drinking of blood, the annoying sleeping pattern that has gone back and forth more times than enough, and having to hide it from his mom and sister. Not to mention hiding all these thoughts and feelings from the only people that would understand. He'd kept a poker face whilst out with them at Takis, but behind closed doors, alone, he crumbled. Which was how he led himself to do what he did. He was willing to do anything to make himself sick, anything to make the thoughts stop, anything so he didn't have to keep drinking blood.
As if on cue, he pushed up from the floor in a flash, running through the door, almost knocking it off its hinges. He bowed over the sink as pills, blood and an assortment of medicines left his system. The rush that flooded from his gut, up through his veins and muscles to his head, was beautiful. It was like everything was on standstill, and for that one little moment until it all dropped away, he wasn't a vampire anymore. He wasn't a daylighter. He was for once,a human again.
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