Chapter 14

Well here is the next installment of Hold On. I've been thinking about how I want this chapter to go since I started this I think, so we will see how it goes. Hope you guys like it!

Clary was relieved when her father walked in and he wasn't already drunk, in fact he seemed like he was in a very good mood, considering. Valentine was in an even better mood when he saw that Clary had made chicken quesadilla casserole. After the meal the night had continued to go on uneventful. It was one of the nice nights where things were normal and Clary and her father joked around and had fun. They even played several games of chess, a game she only learned because her brother had been good at it and she had been jealous that there was yet another thing he could do that she couldn't. Clary had begged Jonathan to teach her for weeks before he relented and then they spent every afternoon after that for a good two weeks playing, so Clary could learn the game. Now she was good at it, she had even become an even match for her brother when she was twelve.

"Check and mate," Clary smiled somewhat cheekily, teasing her father. She had just won the third game they had played, making her the winner.

"I honestly don't know how you did it. I was sure I had you this game." Valentine chuckled.

Clary's smile grew. It had been a long time since her father had genuinely laughed. It was a sound that wasn't very common in their house anymore and Clary relished in it. She wanted to enjoy every single second of this day, because no matter how good today was she knew that tomorrow would not be one as well.

"Well, I did learn my best strategies from the finest." Clary replied. It was the truth, once Jon had given up on playing her she had decided to challenge her father. She had learned even more from him. While she had learned the rules from Jonathan, Clary's father had taught her strategy.

"A little too well, it seems."

"Want a rematch?" Clary smirked a little.

"Of course, and this time I'm going to win the first two and be done." Valentine answered as he started resetting the chess board. Clary didn't know why, but her family had always decided the best two out of three was the winner. This continued on for several hours until Clary started to yawn.

"Perhaps you should head up to bed." Clary's father said his eyes kind.

"I'm not that tired." Clary said while yawning, making it nearly unintelligible.

"Not that tired huh?" Valentine shook his head.

Clary smiled sheepishly. In all honesty, she was getting tired and she knew she would need her rest for tomorrow.

"Go ahead and head off to bed, I'll put the game away."

"Alright." Clary said, standing up and stretching.

"Good night."

"Night, Father." Clary said as she kissed his cheek. "Love you."

"Love you too, sugar." Valentine called after her as she made her way to her room.

Once in her room, Clary changed into a pair of black sweat pants and a light blue tank top and then slipped beneath her covers. She was quick to fall asleep, and for the first time in a long time she had good dreams that included her father.

…..

…

…..

The next morning when Clary's alarm went off Clary had to force herself to get out of bed. Not because she was tired or sore like usual, but because she had been having such a good dream and she didn't want it to end. Hitting the snooze button and ending the terrible beeping sound Clary kicked the covers off and sat up. Stretching, Clary turned the alarm off and then got up and got dressed. Going for lazy, Clary just put on a nicer pair of her sweats and a cheer t-shirt from freshman year. Quickly running a brush through her tangled mass of curls, or more correctly, attempting to run a brush through her rat's nest of hair she quickly twisted her hair into a single braid going down her back. Done, she made her way downstairs and to the kitchen. She had just finished making her father an omelet with ham, cheese, spinach and bell peppers. Clary thought the combination was disgusting, but for some reason her father loved it.

There was the sound of footsteps as Clary was dishing the omelet out onto a plate for her father, along with some fried potatoes. Placing the plate on the table along with a cup of fresh coffee, Clary smiled up at her father a little meekly. She wasn't sure if he was still in a decent mood or not.

Valentine paused as he looked at the table. A thin smile graced his lips. "Omelet and potatoes."

Clary nodded.

"Thanks, Hun," Valentine sat down at the table and started to eat his breakfast and Clary went back to making herself scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. When she was done she sat down across from her father with her plate and a cup of orange juice and started eating her own breakfast. Silence surrounded the two Morgensterns as they ate their food. After her father was finished Clary picked up his empty plate with hers and put them in the sink, poured him more coffee, and then started on the dishes.

Clary did a few household chores and her father settled himself down in front of the television. Both of them had the day off, just as they had for the three years before. Staying home was just a better option today. Just like keeping the porch light off tonight when all the kids would be out in their array of costumes. Partly because the holiday was ruined for the both of them, but also because while little girls were dressed up as princesses and witches and the boys were dressed up like pirates and superheroes Clary would be surviving another hard rough night with her father. And right now, with her father still in a slightly solemn mood, Clary was relieved as she went about cleaning the house and staying out of the living room.

When lunch neared Clary took a break from the housecleaning and started some pasta. It was quick and easy for the most part. Though, as Clary stirred the cooking pasta she couldn't help but cringe a little at the memory of the burn on her leg. Sighing, Clary shook the thought from her head and started to cook some hamburger in the skillet on the other burner. It had been a while since they had had spaghetti and Clary hoped it would help her father's mood, considering he would probably start drinking soon, if he hadn't already.

Clary jumped a little as she stirred the pasta sauce in with the hamburger when she heard a thump behind her. Turning around with her hand on her chest, Clary saw that it was just her father, placing two empty beer bottles onto the counter and then making his way to the fridge where he got another. Clary repressed the frown that wanted to overtake her face.

"Lunch will be done in about five minutes." Clary said softly.

Valentine turned to look at her and nodded. He opened the can of beer in his hand and took a long swig of the alcohol. Clary tried to study his eyes without being obvious, she felt slightly relieved because his eyes were still normal. This meant that he hadn't had enough to even make him a little buzzed, which was to her benefit. Satisfied, Clary turned back around and finished with the pasta and then pilled a healthy portion onto a plate for her father and sat it on the table where he had sat down with her beer.

Clary dared to dish herself up some lunch as well and sat down at the table. It was silent again, but unlike breakfast it made Clary a little uneasy. She quickly finished her meal and placed her dish in the sink and served her father another helping. Valentine also had another two beers with his lunch, causing Clary to shift a little on her feet and act really cautious around him.

It wasn't until Clary heard the sound of the television again that she let herself relax a little. Shortly after, the phone rang and Clary heard her father bellow her name as she scurried to answer it before it could ring again.

"Hello?" Clary answered.

"Clary?"

"Yes?" Clary scrunched her nose up wondering who was calling her. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't place who it was.

"Why aren't you at school?"

"Alec?" Clary asked, a little dumbfounded why he was calling.

"Yes, now answer the question."

Clary was a little surprised by the authority in the eldest Lightwood's tone. "I'm not feeling well."

"That's what Magnus said."

"Then, why are you calling?" Clary asked slowly.

"I thought he was lying." Alec answered; she could practically see him shrugging.

"Oh."

"You don't sound sick."

"I woke up with a fever and I thought it would be better to stay home for the day."

"What about your dad?"

"What?"

"Are you home alone? Because if you are Isabelle or I or someone could stop by and check on you."

"Oh," Clary said surprised, her heart warming a little at Alec's kind gesture. "No need to worry, my father's home with me. He already had the day off." Clary answered. Not having it in herself to lie more than necessarily and not wanting anyone to chance a surprise visit.

"That's good." Alec sounded relieved.

Clary was about to say she needed to go when she heard voices on the other end of the phone. It sounded like Isabelle and Magnus fighting and then there was the undertone of Jace's voice. Clary froze in place. She really hoped that Alec didn't get the chance to tell Jace much about the phone call.

"Alec?" Clary asked as she heard Isabelle whine about something.

"Yea? Sorry, Isabelle is arguing with Magnus over something. I better go before they start a cat fight." Alec chuckled.

Clary smiled at the idea of those two getting in a fight. Clary knew Magnus would never hit a girl, but he wasn't against keeping a girl from hitting him.

"Alright, I better go as well. Thanks for calling." Clary said softly and hung up the phone after Alec saying goodbye as well. Before the call ended Clary could hear the sound of an exasperated Magnus and the clatter of what sounded like silverware.

"Clarissa."

Clary spun around at the sound of her father's booming face and saw that he was standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a red face.

"Yes, Father?" Clary's voice sounded meek even to her ears.

"Who was that?" Valentine's voice was gruff.

"A- a friend from school."

Her father's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Why were they calling?"

"They just wanted to know why I wasn't at school."

Valentine's eye hardened a little but he seemed to dismiss the previous conversation.

"Fine, but next time pay more attention to what's going on around you."

"Yes, sir." Clary said and turned to leave. Until she felt a hard grip on her arm spin her back around to face her father.

"I didn't say I was done yet, girl." Everything about her father was cold and hard, like stone. Clary could tell by the set of his mouth and the look in his eyes he was beyond angry at the moment, and for the first time in a long time she wasn't just scarred, but terrified.

"Answer me when I am speaking to you!" Valentine roared.

"Yes, sir." Clary responded, barely keeping her voice even and not shaky.

Clary might as well not have answered because her father's grip tightened, hard enough that she knew there would be bruises tomorrow, and slapped her with his free hand, causing Clary's head to snap to the side. Blinking her eyes to keep them from watering, she slowly turned her head to face her father.

This seemed enough to appease her father for a while because he let go of her, grabbed two more beers out of the fridge, and went back to the living room. Two hours and a full bottle of whisky later, Valentine was in a very bad mood and Clary was doing her best to tip-toe around him, but there was only so much she could do. So, it didn't surprise Clary that when she wasn't fast enough to bring him another beer he got angry and threw the empty whisky bottle at her head, which she barely successfully dodged. Nor did it surprise her when he started cursing at her. What did surprise Clary was what her father sneered at her as she was putting gravy over her father's steak and mash potatoes.

"It's all your fault you know."

Clary jumped at the sound of her father's voice as she placed his plate down onto the counter top.

"Wh-what is?" Clary was almost too afraid to ask.

"That they are gone, that our lives are like they are."

Clary was shocked. Not once had her father ever said anything to cruel to her before. No matter how drunk he was, no matter how mad or upset he never once even hinted at anything like that. Clary took in a rugged breath and her chest ached. Those words hurt worse than any injury she had ever received from him.

"And you just have to look so much like her. Why?" Valentine bellowed as his eyes grew colder and he started to stalk towards her, like a predator would his pray.

"I – I'm sorry." Clary choked out.

Valentine's fist connected with Clary's jaw so hard that she was sprawled on the ground in seconds. "No you're not, you useless child."

Clary's heart stilled in her chest at the sudden hate that filled her father's eyes as he looked down at her, and even though she knew better, she tried to scurry away when her father approached her for another hit. This just resulted in him grabbing her hair and pulling her into a standing position.

Valentine called her a few degrading names before he punched her again, this time in the stomach, still keeping a form grip on her hair. By now Clary's scalp was starting to ache and she wished he would just let her go. She received another slap from Valentine and her wish was granted, just for her father to grab her wrist and twist is painfully so that she had no choice but to drop to her knees.

"If it wasn't for you they would still be alive." Valentine voiced as he swung at her again, his fist cutting her lip open a little. Clary could feel the blood trickling down from the wound, but she didn't dare try to wipe it away. Even as she thought about this her father's shoe connected to her rib cage causing all of the breath in Clary's lungs to leave. Valentine kept landing blows on her as he continued to cuss at her and blame her. She tried to ball up and to create the minimum amount of space for him to kick her, but every time she tried he would grab an ankle and pull so that it was impossible for her to protect herself.

After what felt like endless blows the onslaught stopped. Clary didn't dare to move or even look up at her father. She was too scarred that the second she did would result in yet another hit.

"Get up," her father barked when he saw that Clary wasn't making a move.

Clary did as she was told and gingerly push herself up into a sitting position and then continued to work her way onto her feet. It took all of her will power to not wrap her arms around her ribs to try and ease the ache that every breath and nearly every movement cause. With a fleeting thought, she realized she would most likely have to prepare another story for the doctors.

Valentine grabbed a fist full of her shirt again, his hot breath hitting her face, the stench of alcohol so strong that Clary wanted to wrinkle her nose at the smell. He shoved her into the counter top roughly and walked away as she slid down to the floor. She didn't even notice that he grabbed his plate and another beer as she finally dared to wrap her arms around her ribs, trying to catch her labored breath. Leaning her head against the cabinets, she waited until the pain was just slightly more bearable before she attempted to move. As she stood on her feet she heard the sound of shattering glass and suppressed a groan. She wasn't ready for round two. Carefully, she made her way to the living room to see what had happened, knowing her father would want her to clean whatever mess he had made.

Clary froze in the doorway as she saw that her father, in a newfound rage, had tipped the coffee table, shattered the lamp that was by the couch on an end table, threw his empty plate against the wall, and had just swiped everything off of the top of the fireplace, causing a glass vase to shatter. Clary didn't know how she had missed all the commotion. Attempting to take a breath, Valentine spun around to look at her at the sound and once again Clary's heart nearly stopped, this time for an entirely different reason. Yes, her father was still angry, but this was one fueled of despair and heartache. Clary knew this because the look of her father's eyes, like he was broken, was almost too much. But whatever he was feeling seem to be replaced mere seconds after his eyes fixed onto her and a fire raged inside them once again.

Before Clary's brain could fully process what was happening, her father picked up the one lone picture frame that was still standing on the mantle and threw it at her. In the process of trying to dodge pain shot through Clary and she dropped to her hands and knees, where pieces of the broken lamp bit into her skin, but not before the corner of the picture frame grazed her eyebrow. Clary took in a sharp breath, or at least tried to because as she did more pain wracked her and she stopped.

Clary was vaguely aware of her father approaching her; it wasn't until he grabbed her wrist and pulled her up just enough to look at him that she fully registered his presence again. The anger had diminished slightly from his eyes, and his face was less cold. She could just vaguely see the damp tracks on his cheeks where tears had fell.

"Daddy," Clary cried meekly, feeling ashamed at how pathetic her own voice was.

Clary expected for him to lash out at her, but he didn't. His eyes scrunched up and then grew wide, as if he was waking up out of a daze. Clary could tell he was still a little drunk, but he was coherent enough that he wasn't letting his anger get the best of him.

Valentine looked around the room, a little confused, and then looked back down at her. His eyes softened and a look similar to horror covered his face.

"Oh, Clary." He said as he dropped to his knees beside her and pulled her into his strong arms.

It hurt but at the same time it felt nice, having her father's arms embracing her like they did. She could hear him mumbling something over and over again, she wasn't sure but she thought it was sorry.

Eventually Valentine pried himself away from her and started to fret about how they needed to go to the doctor, but Clary was quick to tell him that it was late and they could wait until the morning. As bad as Clary's ribs hurt she knew she should go to the doctor then, but she didn't want to risk her father getting into trouble and he wouldn't be functioning properly until tomorrow anyway. After he agreed he gently picked her up and carried her up to her room and placed her into bed. He came back a few minutes later with a glass of water and some Tylenol. Exhausted, Clary quickly fell asleep, thankful that it was the end of her Halloween and the end of the anniversary of the day her family fell apart.

I was going to write more to this chapter, but I didn't want to wait any longer to post this and figured this was a good stopping point. Got to see a somewhat softer and defenseless side of Valentine, though very brief and we may just be getting somewhere with Valentine and his denial. Who knows. But as always I hope you liked it and comments are very much appreciated. Also! It may be a while before I post the next chapter because I am slowly trying to go through all the chapters and all the one shots I have written and editing them properly. So please forgive me if it takes me a while to update.