A/N: I'm SO sorry.

It's been three weeks exactly since I last updated. (I think)

Well, hopefully since it's longer than the others it makes up for it. I said hopefully…

Thank you for alerting: aquacupcake, becca33095, gabeissmexy, girl-crazy-4-VampyreSpeed,kinabon x3, MICJ4ever, and purple halo.

Also, thank you for alerting: aquacupcake, BloodyCrystals, Chrissa-Peanut, and girl-crazy-4-VampyreSpeed

So, I was watching a game show where you try to get $1 mil. And it had a question like this:

There is a site on the Internet that sounds like a child's game but is actually a U.S. book publisher site. Is it:

a) hopscotch

b) redrover

c) simonsays

d) kickthecan

BTW, there's (. c o m) the end. FF is just not letting me do that...

I was like: " 'simonsays' sounds familiar… Isn't that the site for Simon and Schuester?"

I was right!

I felt so triumphant after that.

Go me and my book knowledge! (And anyone else who knew the answer!)

As always,

Read & Review! :3

~Gabz (12/30/11) LAST 2011 chapter! :O

The man pathetically attempted to get a hit on Jace. Jace just blocked his pathetic attempts with ease and threw an uppercut to his jaw. Jace delivered a one final blow to the side of the man's femur. A sickening crunch resounded throughout the alley. The man's back hit the brick wall behind him and he slumped to the dirty concrete ground. The guy blacked out from the overwhelming pain.

It serves him right. Jace thought, dragging the male's body to lean it against the side of a green Dumpster. Jace chuckled inwardly to himself at his actions. He knew if someone saw them, it would look as if he committed a murder and he was trying to hide the body.

Jace exited the alley and came to a stop. Reaching down, he picked up a plastic bag filled with books. He reached in and grabbed one of the books.

Naruto Vol. 12

Jace noticed the barcode at the top of the cover which stated it was from a library. Manhattan Public Library to be exact.

Now, where was it?

Jace started to walk down the block the same way he came from before he realized he would have noticed it before.

Rolling his eyes, Jace then walked the opposite direction and halted near the mouth of the alley. He looked ahead of himself, slightly turned.

Manhattan Public Library.

Stupid.

It was five feet away from the alley.

Sighing, Jace headed up the steps to the library. When he came in, an old woman was in the middle of taking her vest off with her back to him. The place was deserted other than Jace and the lady. Suddenly aware, the lady turned around, her long wispy skirts dragging along the floor. As she turned, her hair flew around her head like a curtain.

"Oh, welcome to the Manhattan Public Library. I was just about to close up." She said, hastily putting her work vest back on. Plastering on a fake smile, she asked, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Jace was silent for a short moment. He took a deep breath and looked at the bag in his hands. "Is there any way to check on who previously checked out a book?"

The woman looked at Jace carefully before answering, "Yes".

He released a breath that he didn't realize he had been holding.

"Uh... Okay." Jace looked around the library, feeling awkward. "Can you check who took out these books?" He held out the thin plastic bag, which, surprisingly didn't break from the amount of books within it and from when he carried it when trying to find the library.

She took the bag from him and peered into it. "The person who took these out left just about a half an hour ago."

"What did she look like?" Jace replied, sharply. He hadn't wanted to say it in such a rude way.

The short, plump woman looked at him speculatively before giving Jace a cold, hard, icy glare, "What do you want?"

"I-" Jace began but Dorothea – as he read on her name tag on her vest – continued to speak as if he hadn't interrupted her.

"Are you some sort of stalker? I'm not giving you any information on her." Dorothea blew out a breath before finally saying, "Get out."

Jace was appalled.

He was so appalled that he started to stutter. "I-I'm not a st-stalker."

"You don't sound like you're telling the truth." She glared at him furiously "I said, 'get out'. Don't make me call the cops."

Jace stood his ground. He was not intimidated by the cops. Well, if they found out what he did before entering the library…

Wait, get arrested for what? He didn't even kill that sorry excuse for a man. He merely injured him until he fainted. Sure, the guy got in a good punch or two, but still.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I just found these books littered on the ground and I wanted to do some good rather than just letting them get trampled in the morning." Jace spoke slowly and deliberately, "But if you don't want to tell me, fine." Jace headed towards the door.

Dorothea just stared at him puzzled on what to do next.

"Honestly, do I look like a stalker to you?" Jace added as an afterthought. He gestured towards his whole body. He was wearing a dark leather jacket, dark grey t-shirt, and jeans. Jace also gestured to his face- eyes the colour of molten gold, a halo of blonde hair, and sharp cheekbones. His mouth was stuck in a smirk, knowing the answer would be obviously, "No."

She responded, "You look like you wouldn't be a guy that who would stalk young females but rather a guy who is stalked by young females."

Jace gave her a genuine smile. "Perceptive."

"I still can't tell you much." She mumbled apologetically. Jace's smile fell almost immediately. "All I know is that she has curly, red hair down her back, green eyes, and she's probably about the size of that… rotating bookcase." She pointed to the kid's section.

Jace looked over to the rotating bookcase which was about a foot shorter than him and he was 5' 11".

"But, why can't you tell me who took these out?" Jace asked gesturing to the books in the bag.

"Truthfully, we just shut down all of the computers and those computers are as old as hell itself, so they take forever to start up." Dorothea pinched the bridge of her nose. "Also, I don't fully trust you."

"Well, that's fair enough." Jace nodded, approvingly. He took the books and was about to exit through the revolving doors when Dorothea called out, "Ahem, where are you taking those books?"

"Home. Then I'm coming back to ask you the same question when the computers are up."

He placed his hand against the cold metal bar and pushed his way into the cool evening before she could protest.

She couldn't sleep.

The thoughts replayed over and over even though she thought telling her best friend about it would somehow make it better. Like a weight would be lifted off of her shoulders. But instead, it felt as if another weight had been put on.

Since she couldn't sleep, she drew.

She took out her sketchpad and a pencil. As much as she hated what had happened, – or what she liked to call, "The Thing" – she needed to draw it.

It was like a diary to her; somewhere to keep your deepest and darkest secrets. Her art was as much of a confidant as Simon.

The first thing she drew didn't really start out as a drawing - it was just a few scratches on a piece of paper. Soon, she attempted to draw her savior, but it didn't look quite right - the angles of his nose mouth eyes and the planes of his cheekbones didn't seem right.

How can you capture something so perfect with merely a pencil and a paper?

She drew him anyway.

It showed a little more than one side of his face. His mouth was in a slight pout and his eyes were furious. His hard jaw jutted out a bit. His body was in a guarded stance – his feet were slightly spread apart firmly on the ground and his arms were crossed over his chest.

Like she told Simon, he wore mostly black. But unlike what she saw, she had drawn wings onto his back.

Clary stared at her sketch, disappointed. She just wished she could capture the angel perfectly.

She flipped her paper to a different page and started to draw the profile of her attacker. Clary glared at the drawing – she drew it to perfection.

Why was it that what she didn't want to remember, she remembered crystal clear; but what she wanted to remember, she didn't?

Frustrated, she tossed her book to the other side of her room and it hit he turquoise wall with a faint noise. As it fell to the ground, it shut itself closed.

Clary threw herself backwards against her pillow and her curly, red hair splayed across the pillow. Clary just stared at her ceiling – listening to the noise of cars outside.

At this rate, sleep will never come.

What'll happen tomorrow?

Should I tell Isabelle? Well, I should, but she might freak out – actually, it wouldn't be her fault if she did. I would've if she told me she had a near-rape incident.

Will Izzy tell anyone? God, she loved Isabelle to death but that girl didn't know how to keep her mouth shut.

Eventually, Clary drifted off to sleep.

Not a peaceful one, though.

No matter how hard she tried to wake from her frightful nightmares, she stayed in a dream state. She didn't thrash.

She was stuck in what seemed like an endless loop of, "The Thing".