Hey! I'm back!

Greygirl2358, the girl is an OC made by shadowhunter1995. He gave most of the description; I just tied up loose ends. Although, now that I think about it, he said she was the quiet type. Sorry about that. And I like being able to do that to people!

I still only have 1 OC. Please give me OC ideas.

If there's nothing else to be said, let the chapter begin!

lIlIlIlIl

Clary's POV (1st person)

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I stared at Doyle expectantly.

"Well?" I asked.

"What?" She asked with a confused look.

"Tell us about what we can do with the Jace problem."

"There's a problem with him? He seemed perfectly fine when he left."

"He chased me across school! Then he ripped me off of a fence!"

"Why?"

"That's what we're asking you!"

"Oh."

"Yeah…." I was getting annoyed pretty quickly.

"Well are you of any importance to him?" Really? I thought she would've known.

"I'm his 'ex-girlfriend.'" I used air quotes.

"Oh. You're Clarissa He—"

"Fairchild. I refuse to have his last name."

"Then what's your problem?" I threw my hands up in defeat.

"He's after me again."

"Oh. Has he done anything bad to you?"

"Not yet, but I think he's going to."

"What makes you think that?" How in the world was this lady a best-selling author?

"He chased me across the school. He ripped me off of a fence. And he's not leaving me alone!"

"Well I don't see what your problem is."

"Are you sure that metal condition just affects what you wear?"

"Of course! I studied it myself." I looked back at my mom.

"I change my earlier statement. She doesn't have crazy methods. She is crazy." The last part of my sentence sent me into another flashback.

I had woken up a bit after blacking out. My mom was over me, trying to heal my wound. I didn't even notice it was there until I felt wind flow through. After you get so many scars, the pain just becomes normal.

"Mom. It's ok." I told her.

"No it's not ok. There's a hole in your arm." She told me.

"I don't even feel it. The pain just all mixes in, you know?"

"I wish I could tell you no Clary. I wish I could." She had tears going down her cheek.

I tried to get up. I had to use my arm to do so because of the bullet hole. My palm burned from the pain. The scarred words were tearing, seeping blood and sending a fiery pain up my arm. I didn't even flinch. Jace had always put a lot more pressure on those words every day. My mom grabbed my arm and pulled me up.

"Clary, I'm going to my bedroom to get some money and supplies. Stay here." She started walking towards the hallway.

"Ok Mommy." I want to say that I hadn't called her that for a long time. But the truth is every night, after Jace was done beating me, I'd curl up in her lap, cry, and say 'Make it stop Mommy.'

After she disappeared into a different hallway, a hard, solid figure crashed into me from the side. How could we forget Jace? He lived here now and the gunshot must've waked him up. I looked up into his golden butterscotch eyes, rage boiling out of me, yet, the fiery rage never came. I was too scared.

"Hello honey." He said while giving me a ferocious look. He took out a knife and started stabbing my arm. I cried out in pain.

"MOMMY! HELP ME!" I yelled with a terrorized voice in between blood-chilling cries of pain and stabs with the long silver dagger.

"She's not going to help you Clary." He was sounding as psychotic as ever.

"Yes she is! You don't know that! MOMMY!" I was scared. Scared for my life, scared for my mom, and scared about the possibility that my life would never get any better than this soul-wrenching, bloody, horrifying hellhole of a life.

"I know that honey. You want to know why? Because she is crazy!"

I flinched at the memory. I saw my mom and Doyle staring at me.

"I'm sorry. I just remembered that day that we left. Post-gunshot." I told them.

"Well, back on topic, what's your problem with Jace?" Doyle asked me.

"You could never know. You're probably never going to know. You're going to be one of the million people who tell me that this whole abusing thing is propaganda! That there's no way that anyone would ever willingly hurt someone else like that! But you know what? It's not fake. And lying about it doesn't make the scars go away. It just deepens them." I ran off to my bedroom, to cry, and to sleep.

lIlIlIlIl

So yeah! That's the end.

I'm still accepting OCs. Read chapter 5 for more info about the OCs and PM me with ideas!

Ever Elizabeth Doyle – Shadowhunter1995

Goodbye!