Hello everyone, thank you for reading and for the nice reviews! Special thanks to Belletristik Aura for giving me advice and helping me build along the story and making me decide to continue it.

I apologize for anyone who doesn't like incest between Clary and Sebastian/Chris, and I'll try not to disgust you, so there won't be so much of that, (unless requested )

So, as for the usual disclaimers, blah blah I don't own Clary, Sebastian, the Mortal Instruments, and again I apologize since this is my first fanfiction story.

Enjoy!

Clary POV

Clary had woken to bright light, she felt warm everywhere, so snug and fluffy, that her sleepy mind was tempted to close her eyes again and sleep, to just continue this blissful state of ignorance.

Just five more minutes…..

She did close her eyes. Then opened them again when she noticed that her vision was filled with white; white that seemed like it was touchable, and soft. Slowly she reached out, and felt the white. Hair. Chris's hair. Her confused mind bounced around.

And then the memories came crashing down on her. The burning grounds of the Institute. Isabelle and Alec unconscious, Jace getting beaten by Sebastian, then she and Se- no, now Chris, enjoying themselves, watching T.V, goofing around like close siblings. Then images of her and him in bed, her mind shutting it all out, creating a barrier to her surroundings. But then her voice broke through, Let's just sleep tonight….

No. Clary shut her eyes, determined that that was all a bad dream, she had a strange, induced dream from having too much black coffee, and when she opened her eyes, she'd be in her bed, in her room, and her mom and Luke would be in the kitchen, making breakfast.

Everything is perfectly normal, or as normal as my life can get nowadays.

Keeping her eyes closed, she sat up, and felt around with her hands, seeking for the familiarity of her comforter. She found nothing.

This isn't my bed.

Her eyes snapped open. Plain large room.

This isn't my room.

Careful as to not make any noise or stir the bed, she swiveled her head to the side, and identified the peacefully sleeping body next to her.

And that isn't Jace…or Simon….oh god…..

She had slept with her brother. Just slept right? She raced through her memories of last night, coming up with nothing. Yes, they had just slept, and while she was thankful for that, she couldn't help but wonder why Chris had listened to her, why hadn't he taken advantage of her while she was asleep. Because he didn't. She could tell. There were just some things a girl knew.

I slept with my brother, my demonic, possibly insane brother who loves to kill, and has tried to kill people close to me….

But on the other hand, it's normal right? She tried to be reasonable, to calm herself with the fact that siblings sleep with each other all the time, she remembered Isabelle saying that when she was younger, and her parents were gone, she'd sleep with Alec because she would be afraid of thunderstorms. (Of course, Izzy had been drunk, and what she said was just drunk talk while Clary tried to pry the liquor bottle out of her hands, so there was no way she would've told Clary this information otherwise, because Isabelle Lightwood was scared of nothing and needed no one)

So it was okay. Everything is fine, I'm just a younger sister who had fallen asleep with her big brother.

At least she tried to get that idea into her head. While her head repeated that over and over again, her stomach felt tingly and she shivered with a little more than disgust. What was she going to do? She had to get out of there first, and not just the bed, the house!

But where was the exit! There had to be a way to get, it wasn't like Chris had bought a magical pantry that restocked food all the time, they had to get out sometime. As much as Chris said he'd leave everyone she loved alone, she doubted he'd be able to stay in here long before the urge to go kill something hit. Her too, she didn't think she'd last a long time stuck here, she'd get dreadfully bored, and hoped that Chris would take her out, at least to take a walk or something.

Before she moved, she watched Chris's face, looking for any sign that he was about to wake up. Nothing, he looked as peaceful as anyone could be, maybe more. Who would've thought that the monster that killed demons and people for enjoyment could actually look serene and baby-like while he slept. Not her. She allowed her artist's mind to wander around his face, still watching for signs that he might open his eyes, looking at the details of facial structure, the way the light hit his face and made it a mix of lights and darks. Like this, he almost looked like what she was always hoped for in an older brother. Mature yet playful, nice, protecting, caring. Good looking. She mentally shook her head, rearing her mind back to the topic at hand. An exit! Gotta find it.

Her mind in mental conflict, she eased her way out of the bed, thankful that her light weight didn't shift the bed too much, and stood in front of the door. She internally scolded herself. She remembered that last night Chris had locked the door, leaving her no way out, except for the window, but after stalking over to it and examining every detail, she concluded that there was no way to open it and go through it unless she hurled herself at it.

By this point she was seriously considering it as an option.

Not yet, check everywhere.

The bathroom attached to the room had no exits, unless she turned into a fish and flushed herself down the toilet.

Not an option.

She walked back towards the door, meaning to see if she could twist the knob hard enough to break it, knowing that's not possible but was better than nothing, when it clicked and opened.

The door was never locked.

Then what was the purpose of showing me that you had locked it? To make me feel trapped? To show that I had nowhere to go? Why didn't you just actually lock the door?

Chris's action, or rather his non-actions, because he wasn't doing them really, were starting to mess with what Clary thought she knew. If he really wanted me here, why is the door not locked? Is this a game, to see how long it takes me to escape, and how long it takes for him to catch and find me? If I go downstairs, will there be a door, wide open, so that I can leave, then later he'll punish me by killing someone I love, just to threaten me? Ugh, why Chris?!

Clary turned her head toward the bed, and stared at the figure laying on it. What if he's not even asleep? What if the instant I head out the door, he'll get up and chase me, follow me, and do who knows what? Stop! No, he's asleep, I know that, but if he's not….

She had to mentally shake her head again. Now was not the time to doubt her beliefs, or rather, Chris's actions. If she tried to figure out all of his moves, she'd become insane trying to comprehend it all down to the last point. There's no reason in wanting to know what he wants. Clary already knew what that was. Her. And that's all she needed to know. There's no point in wanting to know more. And no point in just standing around here…..

Carefully, she walked out into the hallway, shut the door, and headed towards the kitchen.

Maybe some coffee will help me make some sense of this.

Chris POV

Chris was starting to question why he had left the door unlocked after all.

The day before it had seemed like a good way to test Clary's intelligence and her belief in him. Some people, upon seeing that the door was locked, wouldn't even bother to check if it was actually locked. They'd accept what their eyes had shown them without question. So Clary wasn't that type of person. She saw that he'd locked the door, which had a broken lock so even if you did lock it, it wouldn't work, yet went to open it anyway. Chris by the way, was asleep the whole time.

Showed how much she believed his actions. Clary didn't have faith in him, not that he could blame her, but the fact that he didn't have her in the palm of his hand ticked him.

He knew she wasn't in bed the instant he woke up. Chris didn't wake up groggy, having to shake sleep off of him before his body was alert. One second he was sleeping, the next he was wide awake. He was surprised he hadn't woken up when Clary got out of bed, normally the slightest noise, breathe, disturbance, was enough to jolt him. Yet he didn't. And what was even stranger still, was that he even felt like his sleep had been peaceful. Probably the best sleep he had ever had.

Chris stretched his arms towards where he predicted Clary would have been laying on the bed. His fingers could still feel some traces of heat. She hadn't been gone very long, knowing Clary she probably went down to eat, and after seeing the way she ate from the time they lived together, she probably still was.

Part of him was slightly disappointed the second he realized that Clary wasn't still sleeping. He would have enjoyed watching her sleep, just as he had in Paris, when they were on that park bench, he had folded up his scarf for her to use as a pillow while she rested her head on his lap. He had carefully watched her, seeing her face as she dreamed of who knows what, her mouth slightly parted and her fingers twitching, as if even in slumber she yearned for a pencil to draw.

Maybe I should get her art supplies, just so that she'll trust me some more….

Chris flinched. Had he wanted to give Clary art supplies so that he could gain her confidence, or to make her happy? There's a difference, on one hand, Clary will trust him, and he can inch closer to her, and take what he wants. At least, he thinks that's what he wants. Isn't it? The whole purpose of him having her here was so that he could have her, make her his. Yet he hadn't done it.

Last night. Clary told him to sleep. Just sleep. And he had listened. Why? Why did he obey her, when he could have taken advantage of the situation? What's wrong with him?

It's all her fault. Clary was making him lose sight of his objectives, and is messing with his mind, yes, that makes sense. Ever since she came along, everything in his mind hasn't been as clear to him. He doubts his decisions, criticizes his own thoughts, and second guesses himself.

She's doing this on purpose, her actions, her words, it's all carefully planned to get me to completely question myself. I can't let her do that, I'll have to do something, give her rules, restrictions.

Chris got out of bed, and looked for a change of clothes to wear, another random T-Shirt, a red one that flushed the color out of his face and made him look extra pale, and dark jeans. He rinsed his face in the bathroom that was attached to the room, not to wake him up, he was as alert as a cat stalking his prey, but out of habit. His father had always said that a Morgenstern must look his best and be clean all the time.

Before his mind could switch into memories of that man, he splashed another handful of cold water on his face Then he exited the bathroom, and the room, and headed downstairs. Instead, he thought of Clary, a sight that always required his full attention. Her curled red hair, dark green eyes that seemed to draw your gaze, her face that was just smothered in freckles, and her small pink lips. His image of her wasn't of her smiling, laughing, or sad and crying. It was of her looking at him in amazement. Like when he explained to her about their family background, how Morgenstern was a German name, yet that part of the family was Swedish, how she stared at him in fascination, eager to hear more. Listening to him in amazement. The way her eyes sparkled, happy to get information that Chris could bet not even Jocelyn had told her about. Happy to actually be told things instead of being in the dark. That's the image he held of her. That, and of her sleeping. Again, he wished he could have woken up first, so that he could have seen pretty little face. His sister's face. His sister's face. It felt, right, to know that she was his sister. His. Nobody else's.

As Chris he walked through the hallway, he couldn't help but wonder, if he would've watched Clary as she slept, did she sneak a peek at him as well?

Was the angel guarding over me?

The thought was, strangely, comforting in his demonic mind.

Clary POV

Clary had changed clothes. She was no longer wearing the clothes from yesterday, but she was wearing a long, slim, lime green, sleeveless shirt. Or dress. It could be worn as both, for Isabelle it would have been a shirt, for Clary, it's a dress. See the difference? Either way, she felt it was too short and ended up wearing black skinny jeans as well, with some combat boots that went over the jeans. She had found a nice brown belt and tied it around her waist, giving her more of an hourglass figure, and accentuating her skinniness.

She thought she looked nice. After changing, she decided to push all thoughts of her situation away from her attention, and focus on breakfast. She didn't know where everything was, not like in her home, Luke's really, where if she wanted something she'd just walk right up to the proper cabinet without a thought, out of mere habit. So she thought maybe she'd just look through them all to get a bearing as to what they had so that she could assemble her breakfast. She was thinking about a nice warm, sit-in-front-of-the-T.V breakfast, with waffles and toast, eggs, bacon. Imagining the syrup she would use to douse on her waffles made her mouth water, and the sweet, scrumptious jam she would spread on her toasty, warm toast. The fluffy pancakes she could make, slathered in butter…..

Writer's POV: I'm sorry, I should not be writing this before breakfast, apologies, Oh gosh, I'm hungry now. Please proceed, anyone got waffles?

Clary was just thinking about where the flour may be when she opened the first cabinet she saw. Instantly, a box of flour was right in front of her. Lucky guess. Or so she thought. She put the flour on the large marble counter table that dominated the center of the kitchen, and turned back to the open cabinet, thinking that maybe if she could find a bag of bread of the next try, when all of a sudden, in the same cabinet that she had just opened, was the bread. Nothing else was in the cabinet, just bread. Same scenario happened with the flour. Gasp. They did have a magical restocking pantry. Hmmm…. She closed the cabinet.

She place an image of a bag of Dorritos in her mind, or more specifically, an open, family size bag, of nacho Dorritos that was half empty, due to the fact that she had eaten the other half at Luke's. Selecting a random cabinet, she opened it, and sure enough, the bag of Dorritos appeared right in front of her. The cabinets must work the same way as Magnus's magic, it can make things poof from one place to here. Meaning that this bag of chips came from the pantry at Luke's place. Aww… poor Luke. Clary promised she'd leave the other half for him. Could she send it back?

She left the Dorritos in the cabinet, closed the door to it, and imagined an empty cabinet, and the pantry back at looks to have an open, half empty bag of Dorritos nachos. Opening the cabinet again, she saw it was empty.

An idea occurred to her. She began to think about food, canned corn, canned vegetables, canned peaches, lots of canned stuff, then bags of chips, juice pouches, water bottles, spoons, bowls, cups, rice, pizza, uncooked pasta, salt, can openers, and lots of other things.

Then Clary opened all of the cabinets. Everything that she had thought of, was in the here. Even the non-food things. She closed all of the doors, and began to think of that commercial she saw to help children in Africa. She pictured the homes that were displayed on the screen, and thought hard of the little faces that looked so sad and hungry. After that, she opened the cabinets, making sure that everything was gone. It was. She did this three more times, thinking of food, them checking to make sure it was there, then thinking of Africa, and seeing it was all gone.

Ever since that commercial she had a heavy conscious about eating a lot. Now she was guilt free to eat all she wanted!

She began to conjure everything she'd need, and seeing that the refrigerator worked the same way as the cabinets, she took out eggs, milk, butter, frozen waffles, but not frozen pancakes. She made those herself. The kitchen had just about every appliance kitchen needs. The toaster was one of those fancy ones where you could toast up to four at a time, so she shoved four slices of bread into it. On the stove she had cooked bacon and was scrambling eggs. Clary flipped pancakes like a pro.

She was surprised she could make all this, she remembered during her time with Sebastian and Jace, she didn't even know how to make eggs. Ever since then, during her time afterwards, she spent every minute during her mornings watching and helping her mother make breakfast. There are just some things a person had to know how to do on their own.

Well, she wasn't perfect. The bacon was a bit too crisp, she had burned half the pancakes, though the other half seemed to scream 'Eat me!' and the eggs needed more salt, but you know what? The toast was fantastic, and she made coffee, and she learned that a bit of syrup could get rid of the burnt taste in her mouth. She gathered a huge plate piled of food, sat in front of the T.V, fork in hand, switched it on and ate.

She felt like a goddess.

Clary had dragged the coffee table towards her, and rested her plate on it. A large mug of black coffee was on the side. Her left hand searched through the T.V channels while her right stabbed into her eggs. She was feeling rather content, and comfortable.

She hadn't noticed the steps until she Chris sat right next to her on her right, making the couch slope down and for her to topple right onto him.

"Oof," she said, "Sorry," she muttered while trying to get back into sitting position without using him as support.

"Here you go," he grabbed her elbow and steadied her. Clary moved a few inches to the left so that she wouldn't be leaning into him.

"So," Chris started, "You can make food," he sniffed the air, "And it actually smells kind of good. I thought you couldn't make eggs?"

"I learned." Clary responded before taking a bite of her pancakes.

They sat there. Watching the T.V for a few seconds, Clary felt slightly uncomfortable, and almost choked on her toast when she heard Chris's stomach rumble.

He didn't pay any attention to it. Just kept staring at the screen.

Clary ignored it as well, until it rumbled again, and again. Is he testing me? Or does her really not mind that he's hungry?

She cleared her throat, suddenly finding it hard to speak, looking for words.

"Are you okay? You look like you're trying not to throw up." Chris scrutinized her.

"No, I'm fine," she said, trying not to sound like she was lying. Where was the comfy, relaxed feeling they had going on yesterday? "I was, just going to say that i-if you want, there are, um, extra food, I made too much, y'know?" Now was that so hard?

"Okay you look sick. Maybe I shouldn't have any of what you made," he smirked.

She scoffed, all uncomfortness gone. "Excuse me? At least I tried, and my food is delicious." She took a huge bite out of a slice of bacon and chewed on it, savoring the flavor, ignoring that she bit the burnt side.

Chris stared at her with a blank expression, for a moment, but no too long as to so that it was awkward. Then he stood up, went to the kitchen, and began to compile his own breakfast plate. He had pretty much the same thing that Clary had, a pair of pancakes, a waffle, some toast, a side of eggs, and a few strands of bacon. As for a drink, where Clary had coffee, he had served himself some orange juice. Probably from the magical refrigerator.

He came back over to his seat, but instead of placing the plate on the coffee table he put it on his lap. Clary couldn't help but watch as he took a bite of everything, like he was a food critic and was testing everything. After what seemed like forever to Clary, he turned to her, she looked away like she didn't care what he thought of her cooking, but wasn't doing so well.

"The bacon's too crisp, the pancakes are burned, the eggs need more salt, and the waffles needed more time in the toaster." He took another bite of toast, "But overall, not bad, just like Valentine used to make."

Like Valentine. She cooked like her father. Wait. Valentine used to cook for Chris? Well, not that Clary suspected anything special, but Jace said he had servants and maids, so Clary thought that maybe, Chris had someone caring for all those things for him. The thought of Valentine standing in a kitchen, with a wooden spoon in his hand and an apron that said 'Kiss the chef' didn't seem possible to her.

Hold up. She cooked like Valentine? She looked at her plate with sudden disgust, the maple syrup no longer seemed sweet. She pushed it away, taking what was left of the bacon and ate it with her coffee.

"You're not going to eat anymore?" Chris said swallowing down his eggs.

"I'm not hungry anymore," She pouted.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged and calmly cut his pancakes into pieces and ate them. "Like I said, overall, it's not bad."

She continued to sit and pout, certain the she wasn't hungry anymore, when her stomach betrayed her and rumbled. She sighed and pulled her plate towards her again, and took a bit of her bacon. It's not the food's fault.

As she continued to devour her breakfast, she didn't notice the smirk that Chris was trying to hide behind his mouthful of pancakes.

40 minutes later…..

Ughh, bad idea Clary, VERY bad idea…..

She felt like her overstuffed toy cat, whom she named Garfield at age six. After she finished eating her food, she decided she still had room for more, so she served herself again, getting a raised eyebrow from Chris when she sat back down with her new restocked plate.

At first eating the food felt good, then she felt like she should stop, and then she was at that point where your stomach screamed NO MORE and she was forcing herself to open her mouth to take in another forkful. Clary didn't like leaving a full plate, even if she was the one who made it.

She slouched on the couch, hand on her belly, trying to keep nausea down. She could here Chris chuckle when she slowly penguin-woddled to the kitchen to put her dishes in the sink. When she made it back to her seat she had to ease herself down because she felt like any sudden movement would make her burst like a piñata.

Chris wasn't making it any easier.

"You look and sound like a pregnant women," He commented when she had finally gotten comfortable.

"Shut up," she moaned. "That was delicious, and I didn't want it to go to waste."

"You could have wrapped it up and left it for later you know," he chided her.

"Yeah," she covered her mouth suppressing a burp, "but breakfast food is for, you know, breakfast."

"You are just an endless pit, I don't know where you hide it all, no, I don't even know how you do it." He leaned back into couch, matching her slouch.

"Whaddaya mean?" She really didn't care. She had heard from Simon over and over again on how most girls hated Clary on how she was such a small thing, yet could eat as much as a sumo wrestler.

"Sometimes, you go hours, even days, without eating, yet sometimes you can eat just about, two, three, four times what would be necessary to fill a girl your size." He remarked.

"Don't exaggerate, I just have a really fast metabolism." She whined. Clary was so filled that she felt like complaining about everything. "I'll just wait until the food goes down."

"Whatever you say," He changed the channel to some documentary of World War I.

It was explaining how the war started with the death of the Prince of Austria, and how because of that Serbia and Austria went to war, so they started to call their allies, and those allies called their allies, and their allies called out theirs until the whole world was a two sided fight. Allies and Axis.

"I never understood that," Clary said out loud, "I mean, I get that they'd call their allies, but all the major countries getting together and fighting because of some guy they probably didn't even know existed?"

"It's because they all had something against each other, they were all wanting to bring out their guns and men to rip each other to bits, the death of this guy just gave them a reason to." Chris explained, "I know this and I didn't even go to school."

"That's just stupid, who wants war?" Clary questioned.

"People who want power," Chris said in an off tune, like he was thinking about something else.

Oh. Valentine wanted war. Against Downworlders and Shadowhunters who didn't agree with his opinion. And Chris had been a part of it. Only Chris didn't have anything against Downworlders, like Valentine, who had been holding a grudge for years, Chris just wanted blood. Blood and death.

Does he still want them? Clary was dying to know, but preferred not to ask.

Instead, she gave her attention back to the T.V, watching as men loaded guns, and ran across bomb pitted grounds. The documentary was pretty gruesome and lifelike, yet the narrator for the thing sounded so bored, as if he had told the same story one too many times. A scene of no-man's land showed a dirty brown field, several dead bodies strewn here and there, barbed wire tangled everywhere. All this trouble for one man's death, but even so, it was bound to happen. The whole war was a jug of gasoline, and Prince's death was just the match that started the fire.

Clary couldn't help but relate the death of the Prince of Austria to herself. What if because of her disappearance, her friends and family made an attempt to locate anyone who anything about Chris, just to get her back. And in their try, Chris would send his anti-Shadowhunters to kill them, and her friends would look to the help of their friends, Luke would call to his wolf pack, and Jace and the others would call for the Fairy folk for assistance. This would cause for Chris to call in more support, like summon more demons…

No. She couldn't let an all-out war blow out just because of her, she had to stop this before it started. But maybe she was just exaggerating, she was just one person, one girl, surely it wouldn't happen.

But then again, Clary bet that if she talked to the Prince the day before of his death if he thought that most of the world would go to war after him, he would say no as well.

Better be cautious than regretful later.

Clary reached for the T.V remote and pressed pause.

"Hey, they were just about to show what happens during amputations," Chris said, but trailed off when he turned to face her, seeing the seriousness in her eyes.

"Chris, if Jace and Jocelyn, and Luke everyone, started looking for me, fighting to get me back, would you send your Demon Shadowhunters, after them?" Clary asked without hesitation. She couldn't be hesitant now.

Chris stared straight at her, noticing her straightforwardness, and knowing that beating around the bush wouldn't work with her. So he told her exactly what she asked for.

"I promised you I wouldn't, therefore I won't. My demon Shadowhunters are elsewhere, hiding, you could say hibernating, but they won't do anything in the meantime." He finished.

"What if they found a way to get here, would you fight against them? Would you try to hurt them?" Clary was feeling very protective of what she considered to be her very strange family. Jace, Simon, Isabelle, Alec, Jocelyn, Luke, Maia, Jordan, even Magnus, Maryse, and even Luke's wolf pack…..I won't let me be the cause of this…

"That depends," Chris stated.

"Depends on what?" she asked.

Chris scooted closer to her, and took her hand. Clary was too preoccupied of her loved ones to care.

"That depends if you break our deal and fight with them," He said, looking right at her, like he was daring her to even try to go against him.

So that was it, somehow she wasn't surprised. Their deal was that if she stayed with him, everyone she cared for would be spared. Break the deal, everyone could get killed. It was simple, yet menacing.

Slowly, she nodded her head, pulling her hand gently but firmly from his.

Chris looked at her up and down, making Clary feel like a patient in the doctor's office.

"Now that you've brought this up, I think it's about time I give you some rules, before things get out of hand," Chris stated.

"Rules? On what?" Clary asked, astounded.

"Rules, or rather restrictions on how things will be while you're here," He responded, "For one, you'll always be with me, when we're at home, and when we go out."

"Go out?" Clary asked another question.

"You didn't think we would stay in here all the time did you?" Chris looked amused, as if she were a little kid who still thought the moon was made of cheese.

"Well, not really but-," Clary started before Chris interrupted her.

"Second of all, you will not have any steles, or any other weapons unless we are training or if I permit you to have them, such as situations where there are demons to kill and such," He continued.

"Training?" Clary had to wrap her mind around that, "Going out to kill demons? And such? Well what else are you planning to go out and kill?"

Chris chuckled. "I only said that for situations where you will be allowed to possess a weapon."

"As for training, Clary," He took her other hand this time, without taking his eyes off of her, "Do you want to continue being a Shadowhunter?"

His question caught her off guard, but she knew the answer to it immediately. Yes. Of course yes! She had just barely started to get into her natural Shadowhunter instincts, to feel the high of battle, the feeling where you were in control of everything, where you could do anything, kill anything. The feeling was better than any type of high. It was like something inside of her had been awakened, like her whole life she was this shaken up soda bottle, just waiting for someone to open it up and burst. Her whole life, she felt like something was missing, like there was something she didn't know about that no one was telling her. Clary didn't want to just give it away! However, it would be Chris who was training her, he was trained by Valentine, in a way, it would be like she was learning from her own father. Clary didn't feel up for that, but if she could learn something from Chris, maybe Clary could use it against him to find a way out of here.

All of this ran through Clary's mind in an instant, so when she answered Chris, it sounded as if she was completely sure.

"Yes, I do want to be a Shadowhunter," she told him without any hesitation.

"Well then," he said, pulling her hands so that they were both standing, "Let's go train."

Before they left however, the T.V switched from the show they were watching to a news story, the lady standing in front on them with her microphone seemed to say something important, and before Chris could calmly turn the T.V off, Clary heard the lady say, "Yes that's right John, an enourmous supply of food has just miraculously appeared in a shelter meant for poor people in Africa, no one knows how the food got there, but residents there are not complaining, and are thanking the angel that left them this blessing..."

Clary smiled.

So...

Watcha think?

Comment, review, or favorite! Orelse Clary will burn your bacon :D

Clary: It wasn't that bad!

Chris: yeah it was.