The next morning I walk to Isabelle's house. I was going to call her, but it seemed too impersonal. With hands shaking, I knock on the door and wait. The kid who answers the door looks at me nervously and I wonder why, until I remember how often I'd come here in the past year. Rarely. I hadn't seen Max for a long time. He doesn't move, still staring at me and thankfully Isabelle appears and places her hand Max's shoulder.

'Go back to the game,' she tells him. 'I'll be in soon.'

He wanders back down the hall, tracing his fingers along the wall in an innocent child-like manner. Isabelle closes the door behind her and we are alone on the porch.

We look at each other for a moment, and I feel awkward. We were best friends once - you couldn't shut us up - now I don't know what to say, and just by looking at Isabelle's body language, she has no idea either. She's doing that thing she does when she gets nervous - tapping her fingers to her thumb. Back and forth, over and over. I can't stand the silence so I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

'Wanna blast bad eighties music really loudly and pretend we're rock stars?' Like we use to.

She raises her eyebrows and stares at me, and for a fleeting moment I think she's going to turn on her heel, go back inside and slam the door in my face.

But she doesn't. A tiny fragment of a smile plays on her lips. 'On one condition.'

'Yeah?'

She lets out a deep breath. 'This time I get to be Ann and you can be Nancy.'

I smile and laugh. 'I wouldn't have it any other way.' I'm fighting back tears when she wraps her arms around me, pulls me in tight and whispers in my ear. 'I've missed you.'

Now the tears really begin to flow. When she lets go, I see she has tears too. I take her face in my hands and wipe them away with my thumbs. 'I've missed you, too. I'm sorry I haven't been around lately.'

'Don't. I haven't exactly been there for you either.'

We both sit on the top step of the porch, drying our eyes and sniffing the tears away.

'I can't believe how much Max has grown,' I say. 'I didn't recognise him, at first.'

'Tell me about it. I caught him showing a little too much interest in a lingerie catalogue the other day.'

'Ooh, scandalous.'

'Oh, well. At least he wasn't looking at one Alec's magazines. I think two gays sons may just tip my mother over the edge.'

'Is she still not use to it?'

'This is my mother we're talking about, Clary. She may be all froth and bubbles on the outside, but inside? She'll never get use to the idea.'

'Speaking of Alec. I saw him last night. Outside my house.'

Isabelle's brow furrows. 'What was he doing outside your house?'

'I have no idea.' I lied. I have a sneaking suspicion. One that I will never share with Isabelle. 'Maybe he was just going for a walk?'

'Yeah, maybe.'

Isabelle reaches over and plucks a sprig of Lavender from the bushes that border the porch, and twirls it back and forth between her fingers. The heady scent fills the air and I stifle a sneeze. Allergic to Lavender, you see.

'Do you know, every night before I went to bed, there would always be a lavender flower settled on my pillow?'

I shake my head and look out into the street. Jonathan would always disappear at the same time every night. I never knew where he went. Now I do.

'For months I couldn't bring myself to enter or leave the house through the front door. The Lavender reminded me too much of him. I begged my mother to rip it out, but she wouldn't. Now I'm glad she didn't. As long as this Lavender grows, I know he'll still be with me. Is that silly?'

'No.' My breath catches in my throat and I cough. 'It's not silly.'

'I picked a whole bunch and took it down to his grave yesterday. All the while I was hoping I would see you there. I waited a while...'

'I didn't go.'

'At all?'

'No.'

'When was the last time you went?'

'Not since the funeral.' I know my mom visits at least twice a week. Each time she tells me she's going in the hope that I will go with her, but I can't. The pain is still too raw.

Isabelle takes my hand in hers. 'I'd like it if you would come with me sometime.'

I squeeze her hand back. 'Yeah. Maybe.'

It mightn't be so hard if she was with me. I'll think about it.

'Hey! What are you doing tonight?' I need a change of subject and this was one reasons I came here today.

She shrugs. 'Nothing much. Why?'

'Sebastian Verlac is having a party. Jace has convinced me to go and Simon didn't give me a choice, so do you wanna-'

'Wait. Jace convinced you to go? Are you two back together?'

'Kind of. Maybe.' Sigh. 'Yes.'

'And it is Sebastian Verlac's party?'

'Yeah.'

'Clary, you do realise that there is a ninety-nine percent chance that Aline will be there too?'

'I admit that thought has crossed my mind, more than once, yes.'

'And…you're okay with her and Jace sharing the same breathing space?'

'No. But despite what Jace did, having him back in my life feels…right. I have to trust that he won't make the same stupid mistake twice. Now, am I the one who is being silly?'

Isabelle laughs. 'Honestly, Clary. Jace loves you, any blind fool can see that. I don't think you have to worry about him. Aline, on the other hand-'

'I wouldn't trust her with my most worthless, useless possession.'

'You do know she orchestrated the whole incident? Jace was already three sheets to the wind when they slept together.'

'I know. Didn't stop it from hurting with the intensity of a thousand suns, though.'

'Should I put a leash on you tonight, just in case.'

'No. I've pictured punching Aline in the face so many times that it's just lost all meaning to me now. She dead to me. So does that mean you'll come?'

Isabelle get's to her feet and holds out her hand. I take it and she drags me up. 'I'll tell you what. I'll go with you tonight if you promise me one thing?'

'What?' I ask, warily.

'Come visit Jonathan with me tomorrow. You can't keep putting it off, Clary.'

I let go of her hand and hop down the steps.

'Clary? She calls after me.

I spin around. 'Fine. We'll pick you up just after eight.'

Isabelle nods and waves, looking rather pleased with herself.

When I get home the house is eerily quiet and still. I flick on the TV but find nothing that interests me, so I turn it off and head upstairs. I'm walking down the hallway when I notice Jonathan's door ajar. Mom left early this morning and I know for sure the door was closed when I left, too. I stop, still, and listen. No sound. Nothing.

My nerves flayed raw as I reach for the handle and push the door open.

Inside, the room is stark. Surgery white walls, and no carpet revealing bare floorboards. Everything that once belonged to my brother. Gone. Everything that was my brother. Gone.

To a stranger this was just a spare room that no one bothered to decorate. A blank canvas. I wonder if that's what they'll tell prospective buyers if mom ever decides to sell the house. They'll most likely leave out the fact that a young boy killed himself here. That wouldn't bode well for sales.

Glass breaking on tiles makes me jump. I spin around and cautiously walk towards the bathroom. Gently, I turn the door handle and let it open on it's own. My perfume is the first thing I smell. I tip-toe into the bathroom, avoiding broken glass, and see Alec perched like a bird on the bathroom vanity. He scares the shit out of me and I fall back and slam into the wall.

His eyes are wide and blinking uncontrollably, and his breath is heavy and fast. I take a step forward and hold out my hand. 'Alec? Are you okay?'

He squints his eyes shut and smashes closed fists into his temples. I take another step and then lunge for his arms to stop this madness. But he's too strong. He pushes me to the ground and then leaps over the top of me and out the door. I crash to the floor, using my hands in front of me to break the fall. Big mistake. I land in the broken glass. I wince in pain and immediately blood begins to seep out from under my palms on the musk-scented tiles. I hear the front door slam and know that Alec has gone.

I gingerly get to my knees and turn my palms over to survey the damage. My left hand is the worst. A two-inch shard of glass protrudes from the gash running diagonally down my palm, straight through my life line. Tiny scarlet beads dot my right hand. I remove the glass and drop it on the tiles. Blood pools in my left palm and vines its way down my wrist, curling around my forearm and drips onto the floor. Tears sting behind my eyelids, willing to break free. I rock back onto my bottom and drag my knees to my chest, folding my arms protectively around them, leaving my palms to face the ceiling. I squeeze my eyes and tears spill out and run down my cheeks. I hear feet thudding along the hallway and then Jace is standing in the doorway.

'Clary!' His feet skid on the wet tiles and then he's kneeling beside me, holding my hands in his. 'Was it Alec? Did he do this to you?' Jace scares me when he was angry. His eyes grow fierce and his teeth are bared in a snarl. 'I'll kill him.'

'Jace! Stop, please? This wasn't his fault. It was an accident.'

'But he was here? I saw him sprinting from your house.'

'It was nothing, really. Just leave it.'

'Clary, you're covered in blood. I'm not just going to leave it.'

'It's my fault, Jace. Alec startled me, that's all and I knocked over my perfume bottle. It was an accident,' I repeat.

Jace drags a towel from the rack and wraps my hands in it. 'Why was he here?'

'I don't know.' I yell.

'How did he get in?'

I shoot daggers at him. 'I came home. He was here. We scared each other. He ran. I accidentally knocked over my perfume. Slipped. Cut my hands. And here we are. End of story.'

I know Jace doesn't believe me but he has the smarts to keep his mouth shut. He lifts me up in strong arms, sits me on the vanity and beings work on my hands.

'It's deep, but I don't think it needs stitches,' he says about the gash. Carefully he wipes away the blood, places clean white gauze over the cut then wraps my hand in a bandage. My other hand needs nothing more than a quick run under the tap to clean off the blood and wash away any tiny remnants of glass, but he still uses the same care and attention as he did with the other. After, he places my hands softly in my lap, then rests his hands on either side of my neck. He leans in and kisses me softly. He bites my bottom lip and groans into my mouth. 'I'm staying with you, while your mom is away. No but's.'

I don't even try to argue.