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Chapter 2: The Best First Impression of Them All

Clary knew exactly what this house was going to be like. Huge. Slaves everywhere, overseers ready to punish, and slave quarters in such bad condition, that she'd never know the meaning of privacy again. It was the same every single plantation she was on. So Clary knew she had to do something about it. What masters hate most are smart mouths. And what was Clary? A smart mouth. The shackles may have bound her wrists and ankles, but her mouth wasn't, and she would use it to her advantage.

"So Miss Fairchild, it seems that you're the talk of the trade, yes?" Robert asked. Clary just looked at him, disgusted. What kind of man taunted his slaves like that? Was he just trying to find out if she would make a good field slave, or maid? She's show him.

"It seems you aren't," she said flaty.

"It seems I've bought myself a spitfire," Robert laughed. His laugh was loud and it sounded cruel. Clary flinched.

"Oh, no darling. I won't hurt you." But Clary just growled at him.

"Get away from me. You are cruel and insensitive if you think that I will lie with you just because you allow me to ride in the carriage, call me Miss and try to sound gracious. I know your kind, and you are NOT in any way special in my eyes." Robert's eyes grew large and he reached over to put a hand on Clary's shoulder.

"Miss Fairchild-"

"Get your hands off me," she screeched and pushed him away from her, before cowering in the corner and scooting as far away as possible from him.

Robert just sighed. He muttered something along the lines of what "they" did, but to Clary- it wasn't audible. She had her head buried in her knees, which had been drawn up to her chest. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you, Miss Fairchild-" Clary snorted, but her new master just ignored her. "If it pleases you, I won't speak or touch you anymore."

If it pleases her? When did anyone care about her? Did he actually care? Clary quickly discarded that thought. No one cared about her. Not in Africa, and no one really ever had, except for a few slaves at the other plantations.

"Just get away from me," Clary said and she heard Robert scoot away. Clary hmmped and stayed in her ball.

She didn't realize until after she reached the new plantation that he actually listened to her.

}~{}~{}~{}~{

When Clary arrived, she was sore in many places, and her knees buckled when they touched the ground. Way to impress your new mistress Clary, she told herself.

She got up, and looking up, expected to see a huge house with many fields. Who else would have enough money to buy a girl for $2000? Instead, she saw a cute log cabin. There were no more than ten windows and the fields were murky, squishy, tall and overgrown.

"Come on, Miss," Robert said. He got out of the carriage and thanked the driver before waving them off and walking towards the cabin. He motioned for Clary to follow, which she did.

"You're plantation is rather poor compared to the others I've been," Clary said, as she walked around a particularly large puddle of mud. She was determined to keep her rude mouth ruunning until they would have to sell her.

"Well, you hair is rather poor compared to others I've met," Robert replied, not tunring back. Clary reached her hands to her hair and felt that Robert was right. The red curls felt dry and tangled. It probably looked like a rat's nest.

"Well excuse me sir, if I cannot afford the luxuries of a rose bath every three hours. Some people have to work for their rights."

Robert whipped around. His brown eyes were dark and threating causing Clary to take a step back. He looked scary. He looked like Valentine.

"I am not a worthless slave, girl, and it will do you good to remember this." Clary shuddered and even after Robert turned back around and knocked on the door, Clary stood frozen.

"Father!" A girl with long black hair opened the door and embraced Clary's master. "You're home from Maryland! How was it? Was it as fabulous as I've always imagined?"

Robert's answer wasn't heard by Clary though. Images of Valentine whipped through her head. The pain and agony tingled all over her body and suddenly, Valentine walked from the room and Jonathan appeared. His shirt was off and she felt his hands running up her sides, pushing apart her legs, and with that thought, Clary lost control, all the memories she had tried so hard to forget, rushing at her and hitting her harder than one hundred eighty lashes on her back at once.

Jace was in his favorite chair by the fire, talking with Alec, while Izzy practiced her kicks, when the special knock sounded on the door. Before Jace could even blink, Izzy was up and opening the door.

"Father!" She exclaimed. "You're home from Maryland! How was it? Was it as fabulous as I've always imagined?"

"Of course, my little Iz. And here is the girl, just like I promised. Miss Fairchild? Oh my gosh, will you please- Miss Fairchild!" Jace heard from his chair the noise, as his father slapped the slave.

"Iz. Where are Jace and Alec?" His father's voice was panicked and his legs unvolentarily brought him to the door, Alec following behind him.

"What's the matter father?" Alec asked, but Jace's sight was already set on the girl.

This slave girl, Miss Fairchild, was petite and almost porcelain. She had pale, smooth skin and her red hair was long and curled. But her eyes were the thing that terrified him.

The girl's eyes were a vibrant green, but the crackled and were unfocused. Fear was written in them and all of a sudden, her ear-splitting scream blasted through his eardrums.

Jace felt Alec jump back but he jumped forward, foreseeing the girl falling. His assumption was correct and when his father, Alec, and Izzy looked up, the girl was in his arms. She was screaming and kicking, and muttering.

"O my god! No, Valentine! Get him away from me! Don't let him touch me! Leave me alone! Please! No!" The desperation was clear in her voice.

"Get her to the guest room," Izzy screamed. "Don't let her hurt herself, please!"

Jace carried her into through the house passing two of four (now five) slaves (Amatis and Simon) they had in the house. They ran her into the yellow guest room and she was laid onto the fluffy bed, but the girl kept thrashing.

Jace's adopted brother, Max, poked his head into the room. "Thank goodness you're here Max. Get some rope, I don't want her to hurt herself," their dad said. Max ran out of the room and everyone else crowded around the bed. Jace held her head, Alec had one arm, Izzy had the other, and their dad tried to contain her legs.

Man, Jace thought. For a petite girl, she sure is strong. He stroked her hair and she seemed to calm down a little, her thrashing slowed and then Alec, Izzy, and their dad released her limbs. Jace kept stroking the girl's hair and she shuttered. Then she screamed again and twisted over, now laying on her stomach. She began to thrash again-and Jace, desperate to help, grabbed her shoulders.

The girl's dress slid off her shoulders and red all over her back, caught his eye.

"Dad?"

"What, Jace?" his father replied.

"Have you seen this? Stay there Iz, Alec-" as Izzy and Alec began to step over too. His father stepped over to where Jace was standing. Jace lifted the dress up again and her back's deep red streaks and infections were revealed.

"Good god," his father replied. "Amatis!"

The old women came rushing into the room. "Yes, yes sir?"

"Do you know to help this?" He ushered Amatis over and Jace was jostled out of the way.

"What, what is on her back?" Izzy whined.

"Isabelle!" her father scolded. "Not now!"

"I'm back Daddy!" Max announced and ran into the room with rope in his hand.

"Unneeded, Max. Please leave. Now!" Max scrambled out of the room.

"What is wrong, Jace? Tell me, she's mine anyway! Or, she will be anyway. Jonathan Christopher Herondale, you tell me this instant. What is wrong with the girl's back?"

Jace sighed at his adopted sister's impatience. "Her back. It has been whipped over one hundred times and it is very infected."

Alec gasped and so did Izzy.

"Everyone out," Amatic squeaked. She ushered everyone, including Jace's father, out of the room. If I am to undress her, none of you will be there. Let the girl have some privacy." And with that, the door slammed in their faces.

"Now what?" Izzy asked.

"Now we wait and hope Miss Fairchild will recover, darling. I'm going to find your mother." Their father began to walk back down the hall.

"Wait! Dad!" Jace cried out. His father stopped dead in his tracks.

"What?"

"What is- What is her name? The girl?"

Robert Lightwood looked at his son, giving him a strange look. Jace knew it was a strange question, he had never cared about the others. Heck, it took three months for him to learn the slave who looked like a rat, Simon's, name.

"It's Clarissa, Jace. Clarissa Fairchild." Then their father swiveled on his heel and walked swiftly down the hall.

"So we just wait now?" Izzy said unhappily. "I hate waiting."

Clarissa's scream echoed through the house.

"Well, I'm sure Clarissa would rather be out of the position she's in too."