I'm loving seeing the response for this story already! I was planning on waiting a week before updating but you guys broke me. Here's the chapter!


Before

"Clary, I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you," he had proclaimed, getting down on one knee. "Will you marry me?"

Clary tasted blood in her mouth as she attempted—and failed—to push the memory away. How could one moment define the rest of her life?

"No," she had breathed, mere hours ago. Looking back, she wasn't sure why she had declined. It had been a fairy tale proposal. There had been a candlelit dinner, a string quartet, roses. He loved her. One look at him was enough to prove that.

But Clary had said no. It had all come at her so suddenly, she reminded herself. They had only been dating for six months. She was only a freshman in college. Clary wasn't ready for finals, let alone marriage. I had panicked, she thought, but she didn't regret her choices. He had seemed so broken after her refusal. The waitress had paused in her deliverance of the champagne and Simon had never looked so…numb.

Did this mean they were broken up? Clary didn't know. She loved Simon. There was no denying that. But it wasn't right. No matter what, the entire evening she hadn't been able to ignore the stabbing feeling of wrongness chewing up her insides. She couldn't be sure what she wanted out of life yet, but somehow Clary knew it wasn't him. As terrible as it made her feel.

Clary looked around the apartment her and Simon shared with dread. He hadn't come back home yet. She had no idea when—if—he would, but she was itching to see him again. The anticipation and unknowing that surrounded his inevitable arrival was worse than the confrontation that would follow. She was sick of waiting; she was sick of running. She just wanted to see him again.

Waiting wasn't doing her any good.

Desperate to take the edge off of her growing anxiety, Clary made a beeline for the fridge. The case of beer that had always repulsed her now looked undeniably enticing. Without hesitation, she pulled out a can and drowned her nerves away. She had always held such an aversion to drinking—especially due to being underage—but that night, she relished in the numbness of feeling the amber liquid supplied her.

In between sips, she had reached for her phone. A piece of her felt disheartened there were no messages from him, but she quickly shook those thoughts aside. She had to see if anybody knew where he was before she got too tipsy. She just had to know he was okay. Otherwise, not even the alcohol would subside her guilt.

"Hello?" A dulled voice spoke on the other end of the receiver.

"Raphael?" Clary asked, even though she knew it was him. "It's me, Clary."

"Who?" His reply made her frown. Like most of her college, Simon's friends ignored her existence. In the beginning, they had even tried to talk him out of dating the "weird girl". That had been a real self confidence booster.

"Clary. Simon's…girlfriend." She couldn't help but feel like a liar, even to herself. Was that still true? Had she gone from girlfriend to could-be-fiancee and demoted to ex?

"Oh yeah. Uh…what's up?" Raphael sounded uncomfortable. Clary rolled her eyes, needing another swig of beer to get through a conversation with this asshole.

"I…uh, do you know where Simon is? It's important that I get in touch with him." She hated how pathetic she sounded. Like she was a needy, overprotective girlfriend forced to stay at home. Her distaste with herself wasn't as important as making sure he was okay. He had always been so gentle and sweet, but Simon was too sensitive for his own good. There was no telling what he was going through.

"Simon?" A loud crowd cheered on the other end of the line. Raphael was most likely at another party with the other low lives Clary refused to associate with. "Yeah, he swung by earlier. Yowza, what did you do to mess him up? I've never seen him so trashed."

Clary clenched her fists. Raphael really wasn't helping.

"Do you know where he is or not?" She growled, suddenly disappointed in the amber drink contaminating her brain cells. It obviously wasn't good enough if it couldn't get her through a conversation with Raphael without homicidal tendencies.

"Yeah, yeah. Actually, not really. He left Eric's about an hour ago, absolutely wasted."

"Was he driving?" It was a struggle not to punch him through the phone. If Simon was as drunk as he said and he was driving…

Clary would never forgive herself.

"How am I supposed to know? When he left, Lily was all over me and—"

"Hey, Raphael, shut up," Clary spat sharply, not needing to hear the details on how the asshole's sexual advances were more important than his best friend's life.

"Just..let me know if you hear anything," she spoke softly.

"Right, sure. Hey, what's your name again?"

Feeling thoroughly repulsed, Clary slammed the phone down on the marble countertop. The apartment felt too big to be so empty. She had always felt so lucky to have moved into the spacious penthouse with a city view she could stare at for hours. It had been a major step up from the cramped dorm she had shared with her awful roommate, Seelie. Now, the apartment felt lonely. It's added space only served as a reminder of how badly she had screwed up. She should have stayed and made sure Simon was okay. She should have talked to him and told him that she loved him, but just wasn't ready to marry him. She should have—

The thump on the door tore Clary from her rampant thoughts.

"Simon," She breathed, rushing to open the door. She had never been so happy to hear him. There was another thump at the door, this time more insistent. He must be seriously drunk, Clary thought to herself, twisting the door knob.

"Simon?" The sight of him shocked her. In only a moment she took in his sickly appearance. His once coffee stain eyes were bloodshot with a yellowish pallor and a crazed absence. His normally alabaster skin tone had been reduced to a sickly green. He smelled as if he had been bathing in raw sewage and there was just something about the way his body was positioned—like a puppet lost without its master—that sent chills scraping down her spine. Unfortunately, the moment she paused to take in his appearance was a moment too long.

Simon uttered an inhuman growl, pouncing in a twisted clunky fashion as he desperately clawed at Clary.

"Simon, what are you—" Her words died the moment they slipped from her tongue and were instead replaced by her surprised scream. He collided into her cannibalistically, his eyes showing no traces of recognition as he scratched and snarled.

"Hey, stop!" She croaked, her eyes wide and afraid. Simon snapped at her neck, his teeth barely missing her skin. The weight of his body was crushing her small frame. She looked at him in horror, using all of her strength to push him away.

"Simon, get off me!" With one final push the pressure vanished from her chest and she quickly scrambled out from underneath him.

Unfazed, Simon moved to attack once more. Clary could see the bloodlust in his eyes. She could feel the hunger in his movements.

She had never been afraid of Simon before. All of the stories of abuse and rape happened to other people. Now he just kept coming at her and he wouldn't stop. For the first time, Clary knew that if given the chance, Simon would hurt her. Or worse.

He sprung at her predatorily, outstretching his arms to grab her like a meal. Without hesitation, she grabbed the nearest object—a chair—and swung at his head. There was a sickening crack. Simon fell to the floor in a motionless heap. Clary stumbled, dropping the chair in horror. She was stunned. It wasn't until now that she noticed the gaping wound on his left bicep. It looked like a bite from a wild animal.

"Simon…" She whispered, her voice as soft as air. His head rose sharply, his dead eyes looking to meet hers. In an instant he was pulling himself up again, once more in ravenous pursuit and clawing at her legs. For a moment, she stopped. Why couldn't he just talk to her? Why was he doing this?

Tears began clouding her eyes. She needed to get out of there. She ran as fast as she could—despite being slowed down by by her dress and heels—but he was quick on her toes.

"Simon, stop!" But he didn't. He wouldn't. He wasn't the Simon Clary had grown to love. No, this Simon was much different. She had her back towards him as she ran. Looking back, Clary would realize that had been a mistake.

A splitting pain burst through the nerves of her skull as he monstrously captured her hair, tearing her back to him. Tears were now streaming down her pale skin, washing inky tresses of mascara with it. He hovered over her, snarling and snapping his wicked jaw as he dove to tear into her neck. Out of self preservation, she threw her arms up to push him away. The act caused a strain on her already shaking muscles. He just kept coming and Clary was growing tired. It felt as if they had been fighting for hours.

A trail of blood had begun to seep down her head, probably from the impact of her fall. This only seemed to make him attack her harder. She needed a plan. She needed to do something. She needed to get away from him.

"Simon, I love you," She wailed, before calling on every ounce of strength she possessed to flip him from her shaking form. Before he could lunge for her again, she hurdled over the couch and slipped her hands beneath it's underbelly. She flipped the heavy Italian leather couch before he could follow and watched it fall on top of his writhing form. There was no telling how long he would be pinned.

She didn't look back. Instead she bolted for the door and shut it behind her. Only then did she allow herself to break down into tears.


"I'm going to kill that slimy bastard," her brother Jonathan growled. She hadn't had anywhere else to go after the incident except for her brother's small townhouse. At first, he hadn't been too pleased to see his baby sister knocking on his door at one in the morning, but had quickly let her in after seeing her haggard appearance. She had immediately passed out on the couch without explanation. He had woken her up with a pancake buffet and an interrogation.

For the past hour she had settled to being curled up on his couch while Jonathan paced, going back and forth on the various ways he would get revenge on the asshole that hurt his sister.

"I'm going to skin him alive, burn his bones, and then dance around a ceremonial fire so that I can resurrect him and kill him all over again," he decided confidently, only seeming to get angrier with each step.

"Jonathan, stop," Clary ordered quietly, hugging herself to forget the previous night. She doubted that was possible.

He spun towards her incredulously.

"Clary, he attacked you. The rich momma's boy has always rubbed me the wrong way, but he tried to hurt you. There's no way this guy is just going to get away with hurting my baby sis."

On any other day she would've smiled at his protectiveness. But in the course of a day her boyfriend proposed, took off after she rejected said proposal, and attacked her in a rage. Oprah just didn't prepare a girl for this stuff. She was still wearing the silk blue dress she had worn for their date, back when things were still normal. It was tattered now. The hair she had uncharacteristically spent time on had been smeared with her own blood. In short, she was a mess. Both inside and out.

"Revenge isn't going to help. He's dangerous, Jon. I already called the cops to come and arrest him," she tried to reason, wanting him to just drop the subject. Jonathan's face fell as he looked at Clary, no doubt seeing her as weak and as helpless as she felt.

"Can't I just stab him a little bit?" He pouted. Clary rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at him, which he dodged with a slight grin. At least after the crap day she had endured, she could always rely on her brother for a sense of normalcy.

Jonathan 's smile faltered as he took in her appearance somberly.

"You look like shit," he observed, rather bluntly. Clary raised an eyebrow indignantly, prepared to throw another pillow at him.

Realizing his mistake, Jonathan put his hands up in defense, "Whoa, whoa. You know that's not what I meant."

"Uh huh. Whatever you say asshole," she muttered, the barest hint of a smirk on her face. He put a hand over his heart in mock pain.

"Ouch Clare, that hurts. I was just going to suggest you go change. Tessa's got some clothes and whatever girls need that I'm sure she wouldn't mind you borrowing."

Tessa was Jonathan's girlfriend of three years. He had fallen head over heels in love with her in college and had been absolutely lovestruck in her presence ever since. She was the most independent person Clary had ever met, which was why Tessa refused to move in with Jonathan. Officially, at least. She still practically lived there, somehow able to withstand longterm exposure to her brother. Clary's family had always been so sure she would follow in their footsteps with Simon. For some reason she felt as if she had disappointed them.

"Clary? Earth to Clare?"

"Huh?"

She was snapped back to reality and greeted with the sight of Jonathan's palm obnoxiously waving in front of her face.

"Uh yeah, sure. That sounds great," she mumbled, robotically rising from the security of the couch and going to his room. Clary was no stranger to Jonathan's house. He had graduated from college two years beforehand and worked hard to get a job and rent a house until he could buy one for himself. That was one of the reasons he had never liked Simon. Her boyfriend came from a well respected family that handed him everything that he could ever wish for. With that came pressure for Clary to act prim and proper in front of his family. She had always come to Jonathan's to blow off steam. Just…not like this.

Shaking away her thoughts, Clary sighed and tore through Tessa's half (more like two thirds) of the dresser to search for something to change into. She settled for a long sleeved baby blue top paired with a comfy pair of jean shorts. Tessa had been going through a pink phase, so the redhead doubted she would miss them.

Clary took her time changing. Her body felt sore and stiff and her bruises ached. By the time she had changed, washed her face clear of any makeup and brushed her hair, she had been gone for half an hour. Knowing Jonathan, in that time he had either managed to bake a gourmet soufflé or blow something up.

To her delight, it was the former.

"You've outdone yourself Jon," she murmured in between bites of the chocolate soufflé.

"Always a pleasure to share my gifts with the world," he grinned cockily, leaning against the counter. "So I'm thinking after you inhale the chocolate in that bowl the two of us should have an epic Mario Kart showdown."

"Oh you're so on," she grinned, about ninety percent sure chocolate stained her teeth in unattractive lumps. Clary wasn't an idiot; she knew what he was doing. He was trying to distract her, but she didn't care. She had missed hanging out with her brother and just feeling carefree.

But that didn't happen this time.

Even while savoring her chocolate cloud of heaven, winning in Mario Kart, and laughing as Jonathan rolled on the ground in humiliation, she couldn't help but think about the events of the previous night. Simon had looked so…unlike himself. She had just assumed he was drunk. As if being drunk could ever be an excuse for what he did. No, just because it was the first time she ever drank didn't mean she had never seen anyone drunk before. Simon would drag Clary into college bars all the time where she would witness Raphael's antics, which were deplorable, but nothing like the events of the night before.

Something had been off with him.

She voiced her concerns to Jonathan, but his response had been lackluster.

"It's obvious," he shrugged while pounding on the buttons of his controller. "Your boyfriend is a zombie."

"Haha," she responded dryly. Sighing, Jonathan paused the game and returned his focus to her. Clary had always been impressed with his ability to morph between the hyperactive goofball and the sensitive, caring older brother.

"Listen Clary, guys like Simon are used to getting everything they want. You rejected him and he showed his true colors. Let's just be glad that he didn't get away with it," he explained, as if it were that simple. But he hadn't been there. It wasn't a typical abuse story where a guy hits a girl or vice versa. No, his actions had been nothing short of animalistic. She had looked into his eyes and what she saw was not Simon.

"Jon, it wasn't like that. It was almost like he was trying to…I dunno…eat me or something sick like that. He just didn't look like himself. His skin was this ghastly shade of yellow, his clothes were a mess, there was this bloody wound on the back of his arm, and his eyes were like these dead orbs just rolling around in his skull! I'm telling you it wasn't natural."

There was a pause as he took in her description.

"You do know I was kidding about the zombie thing, right?"

Clary frowned at him. How the hell was she supposed to share her frustration when her own brother was making fun of her?

"How's your head?" He finally asked, concern written across his face. She leaned away from him and subconsciously grazed the back of her scalp. It had been bleeding pretty badly when she arrived at Jonathan's the night before.

"I'm not crazy," she muttered darkly.

"I'm not saying you are. I'm asking how your head is after sustaining a head wound and also engaging in underage drinking like a no good hooligan," he raised his hands in a sign of peace. She was too tired to glare at him.

"Fine, I guess. I just hope I bled all over that asshole's fancy carpet."

Jonathan snorted, twirling the cord of his Xbox controller absentmindedly. It was a nice visual after such a harsh twenty four hours. Somehow Jonathan's presence had a way of making her feel her most comfortable. It was something she missed after he left for college.

"If I had anything to do with it that dick would have a lot more than a stained carpet," he spat, tensing up at the very idea of Simon.

"It's a really nice carpet," Clary appealed. Her remark did nothing to curb his bloodlust. She sighed, knowing she would have to do something to control her brother.

"Hey, listen, why don't you put in a game you actually have a chance at winning and I'll get some coffee." She gave him a small smile as she stood up, only making it three steps before the window to her left exploded. The scream of a woman was quick to follow.

"What was—"

The droning of a roque fire alarm cut off Jonathan 's question. Clary flew to the window, craning her neck to view the source of the chaos.

"Do you see anything?" Her brother asked, peering behind her. A few people had begun to crowd the streets. Some had even begun to run. Aside from a shadow or two from behind the curtain of the house perpendicular to her, Clary saw nothing.

"No, but you should probably call the cops. Just in…"

The words faded from her lips as she spun to see Jonathan holding an open phone.

"The line's dead."

Oh, she thought. So much for that plan.

They stood rooted in thick silence that seemed impossible to break. Until it wasn't.

There was a heavy thumping at the door. Clary swallowed tightly, sure she had heard a similar sound only a day ago.

"I don't suppose that could be our friendly neighborhood grandma coming to ask for sugar?" The snowy blond deadpanned, drifting to the locked door. Clary's chest constricted. She was unable to escape the feeling of dread that had descended upon her.

"It's Simon." She didn't know how she was so positive. Jonathan's pace to the door quickened. He looked out the peephole, radiating in wave after wave of fury at the thought of Simon being there.

"Shit, you're right. Wow you weren't kidding, he looks like crap," Jonathan remarked, finding some dark humor in the deterioration of the man who hurt his little sister.

"Yup," She spoke, popping the p. "Wait, you aren't seriously going to let him in, are you?"

He ignored her bewildered gasp.

"Calm down Clare, your big bro's got this covered. I'm just going to make sure this douche doesn't try anything again." He waved her off and twisted open the door.

"Listen here Si—"

Simon descended upon her brother immediately, snapping his jaws with the aim to devour and destroy. Ice burned though Clary's blood. She was unable to contain the horrified scream that burst from her raw throat.

"What the fu—"

Jonathan roared in pain, a sound so guttural and emotive that Clary could've sworn she felt the pain herself. Crimson flashed in the outskirts of her vision. Without a thought, her palm enclosed around the cool circular handle o of her brother's carving knife and she flew to his rescue.

Clary's stomach plummeted as the attack assaulted her visuals. She knew she would never be able to forget what lay in front of her. The smell, the sight, the terror, the gore; all of it would be permanently burned into her memories. Jonathan choked, using all of his strength to keep the monster that was Simon at bay. His arm was gushing blood. Chunks of raw flesh and tissue were stuck in the open mouth of the growling monster across from her.

He was eating him.

The thought alone would've made her hurl if not for the dire situation at hand.

"Simon," she spoke, but her words came too late. The knife she gripped in her sweaty palm felt powerful as she swung and arced the steel tip into her ex-boyfriend's skull. He dropped, falling away from Jonathan to drop to the wooden floor with a heavy thump.

She choked, unable to breath, let alone scream. Horror burst from her breaking heart and imploding lungs. Gravity had dominated over her weak knees, sending her sprawling to the ground unceremoniously. She just stared at the body lying inches from her own. From the still open door, Clary had an unobstructed view into the street, where beings that suspiciously resembled Simon trekked by in ever increasing numbers. The sound of her screaming caught their attention. Though she was still unable to feel breath in her gasping lungs, Clary kicked the door shut. To her left, Jonathan stared at his still bleeding wound in shock. He was looking worryingly pale.

"Jonathan ?" Her voice shook with emotion. She still felt tremors from the knife's impact in her shaking hand. The squelching sound the blade had emitted as it entered his skull would haunt her nightmares until she died.

She was a murderer. She had acted out of self defense. Her brother's life had been at stake. She chose one life over another.

Murderer.

"Clare," he gazed up at her, his green eyes glittering with unshed tears.

"Simon. He was a—"

"He was a psychopath. He—he wouldn't have stopped," she would tell herself that mantra to live with herself. His blood stained her hands. Jonathan shook his head. His movements were slow, as if treading water.

"He—he bit me." The shock in his voice echoed across the room, across her mind.

"We'll get you patched up. There's a hospital a couple miles from here. I can call Tessa and fill her in," she spoke as if she were trying to convince herself.

"I can't believe it. The bastard was actually a zombie. He was a zombie and he bit—"

"No!" Clary interrupted her brother sharply. "No. No, no, no. There are no such things as zombies! If anything, he must have taken some kind of bath salts at the party."

Jonathan looked unsure. There were more screams coming from outside. Clary bit her lip.

"You're going to be fine, Jon. I promise. We just need to get out of here."

He nodded. She wasn't sure if he believed her, but he trusted her.

Everything would be fine.


If you think this is sad, just you wait, because this is just the beginning. 😘

So to keep myself from publishing this entire story at once, my update system is going to be after 12 reviews or after a week from the last one. Whichever comes first. Next chapter we get back to Jace and get to see a few more characters get introduced to the plot, so be sure to review!

-Anika