Chapter 5 is here and it is a long one, whew! This chapter is entirely from Jonathan's perspective. He's getting ready for an evening out and reminiscing about recent and not so recent events. Holy origin story!

Enjoy and THANK YOU for reading!

I do not own any of the characters, only the illustrious Cassandra Clare owns them. I do, however, own this particular story, so please don't be lame and copy/paste it elsewhere.

Previously: "...over the coming weeks and thanks to her best friends, she had slowly become functional again, somehow. I'm Jocelyn Fray and Luke Garroway's daughter, that's how."

Jonathan's Story

Jonathan Morgenstern smiled and played Jocelyn's voicemail again on Clarissa's phone, putting it on speaker and lip-syncing along. "Hi Clare-bear, why haven't you called me back, baby? You know I worry, love... You're probably already on your flight to Amsterdam now… Oh well remember to call– wait who are you? V-Val-Jonathan? Oh my god–…Clary baby listen to me don't come home... Let GO of me...Clary I love– Help! He–". It never got old, hearing the shock and fear in her voice...Her screams. The look on his father's face. Delicious.

He had probably listened to Jocelyn's message to her daughter one hundred times since he stole Clarissa's phone, back in August, after their accidental meeting at the airport. When he was able to inspect the contents of Clarissa's phone in private, he had scrolled through her pictures and was pleased to find a few rather risqué selfies that he pleasured himself to. She has a naughty side. He was also surprised to find that Clarissa had not listened to any of Jocelyn's voicemails that fateful day. Was she tired of mummy too? Maybe I did her a favor.

Killing Jocelyn Fairchild Morgenstern Fray Garroway had been a delight. It had been one of the best days of Jonathan's life, with Luke Garroway's death being an added bonus. It was the perfect way to make sure his Clarissa would be accessible. And alone, like him. Of course he had told his father it was an accident, that he had no idea she would come home so early and get trapped in her studio…and burn to death. His father had been devastated, of course. And furious. Jonathan's punishment had been harsher than usual. Jonathan willingly took the whipping. It was so worth it. It took him weeks to recover from the lashings inflicted by his father for the death of his precious Jocelyn. While the wounds were mostly healed, the scars still ached sometimes. He was getting pretty fucking tired of his father's discipline.

Jonathan had been raised at Morgenstern Manor in Idris, with the specter of 'Valentine's Great Love Jocelyn' hanging literally over his head. Her portraits and art hung everywhere at the manor. He remembered his father often said that "Jocelyn was the only woman worthy to bear his children, that she alone was his equal in pedigree". Over the years, Valentine's drunken beatings and yammerings made him hate the woman his father claimed was his mother. He would sneer hateful things like, "She hated you so she left me. Left us. You weren't good enough for her to stay…your mother was disgusted by you. That dog stole her, those elitist Fairchilds helped" blah blah blah… Valentine had been a cruel father over the years, and quick to violence. He insisted that Jonathan, as the Morgenstern heir, succeed and master all facets of life; academics, athletics, fine arts, fighting, strategy, women... Jonathan had surpassed every challenge his father had given him and still Valentine was never satisfied. He irrationally blamed Jonathan for the one thing he truly couldn't help; that Jocelyn had left him. The bastard couldn't possibly fathom that she didn't want to be the wife of a sadistic criminal disguised as a legitimate businessman– especially after what he did to her. The whore wasn't even his biological mother.

His real mother, birth mother, was named Lilith Verlac. The day before Jonathan's seventeenth birthday, after a particularly heavy round of drinking with his cronies, Valentine summoned him to his private den. He had recently acquired another one of the Jocelyn Fray's paintings and was standing in front of the fireplace studying it with a wistful look on his face. It was called "Her Eyes" and was a beautiful watercolor. The painting was of a teenage girl with long red hair and bright emerald green eyes, contemplating her reflection in a pool of water. At the time Jonathan thought it was an indulgent self-portrait of Jocelyn. He now knew that it had been a portrait of his Clarissa, obviously painted with much love. That night his father told him the true story of his parentage. It had been a lot to digest and had taken many hours.

Jonathan rolled his eyes, thinking about that night from over six years ago. He set Clarissa's phone down on his bed, walked into his en suite and looked in the mirror. His black eyes stared back at him. Her eyes. He thought back to how forthcoming his father had been that night. "In vino veritas." Jonathan scoffed to himself, remembering how much bourbon his father had shared with him.

Valentine had paced the room, muttering about how Jonathan's eyes were so much like hers. "Evil, ugly, as black as her demon soul…" Jonathan had initially been confused, as Jocelyn's eyes had been green. He remembered feeling nervous and anticipating violence from his father. Valentine surprised him that night by asking him to have a seat and he would tell him some secrets– that "it was time".

His father had taken a seat in his favorite leather wingback chair. His fucking throne. He gestured for Jonathan to sit across from him on the matching couch and began to tell him about his first mother. Lilith had been one of Valentine's mistresses while he was married to Jocelyn. His father had described her as "Big tits, dark hair and black eyes, pretty, but a no one". Valentine told him that Lilith got herself pregnant. Coincidentally, Valentine and Jocelyn had recently announced that they were expecting their first child. Lilith had been raised in the criminal lifestyle and was a vicious, spiteful woman who wanted Valentine to herself and demanded a place in his life. That was a mistake on her part. Valentine had narrowed his dark eyes and told him that he had refused and kept her hidden from Jocelyn. He knew his wife would leave him if she ever found out about the other woman. Valentine never visited Lilith after that, telling Jonathan that he had been "finished with the slut" and, "she got pregnant on purpose and it would have scandalized the Morgenstern image…" He then had taken a large swig of his bourbon and stared hard at Jonathan.

Coming back to the present, Jonathan turned his face to the left and right as he continued to examine himself in the mirror, remembering his father's look, and coldly smiled. He was twenty-four now and knew he was very handsome. A catch. He had never had a problem getting a woman to his bed, although he had never found one he wished to keep there. Until he laid eyes on his Clarissa, that is. He had heard many times in his life that he looked almost exactly as his father had in his younger years, just bigger. Jonathan liked that he grew taller and stronger than his father and was a superior fighter as well. He had recently consistently bested his father in melee sparring. Valentine had seemed annoyed, but also proud, as it reflected well on him. Of course. I'm a Morgenstern man, like my father. Clarissa is a Fairchild woman, like her mother. It's as if she were made just for him…like Jocelyn was for Valentine. The Morgensterns and Fairchilds were old Idrian families, with aristocratic roots, Jonathan had been told ad nauseam, over the years. He and Clarissa were the last heirs of both families. Although, Clarissa had no idea about her powerful roots.

That night, Valentine told Jonathan that the only reason he didn't have Lilith immediately murdered for her pregnancy betrayal was because she was pregnant with a Morgenstern. So, he had her sequestered away on the grounds of the manor. As Jocelyn's pregnancy progressed, so too had Lilith's. How poetic.

Jonathan opened his bathroom cabinet and pulled out a box of temporary hair dye. Black. He thought back to the moment his father had paused his drunken confessions. He had refilled his glass with more bourbon and poured a second glass, handing it to his nearly seventeen year old son, and began to tell him how he had become Jocelyn's son.

In her ninth month of pregnancy, Jocelyn was in a car accident and crashed into a tree. Father told him that Lilith had escaped her confinement and furiously confronted Jocelyn telling her torrid details of her affair with Valentine and subsequent pregnancy. Jocelyn's maid had been witness to all of it and (after some persuasion) later told Valentine that Lilith had taunted Jocelyn telling her he was a crime boss, a killer, a sadist, and womanizer. Everything. She had shoved Jocelyn, knocking her to the ground, called her too weak and pathetic to handle the real Valentine and physically attacked her. Valentine's men heard the commotion and intervened, dragging Lilith away, back to her rooms. Afterwards, Jocelyn had immediately sought Valentine out for answers, finding him in a meeting with his men. She listened at the door and overheard Valentine ordering his men to murder a traitor.

Jonathan recalled Valentine had paused his story for a moment and closed his eyes, as if it was difficult to say such things out loud, then opened them and continued. He remembered feeling annoyed with Jocelyn for eavesdropping on his father's meeting.

Valentine told him that she had angrily burst into the meeting and confronted him about Lilith and what she learned. Lucian Graymark (Luke Garroway) had been present at the meeting and had tried to calm Jocelyn. Valentine had been furious that his wife, his woman, had dared to do this in front of his underlings and dragged her up to their bedroom where, he told young Jonathan, with a harsh smile, he had "taught her a lesson", then returned to his meeting. He never said what kind of lesson, but Jonathan had a pretty good idea. His father had a terrible temper and never tolerated anyone embarrassing him or challenging him…especially his women.

Jonathan remembered his father's smile fading as he continued his story, his words had begun to slur. Later during Valentine's meeting, Jocelyn had tried to leave her husband. She had walked right past security, took a car, and drove off. Security, wary of putting their hands on Valentine's pregnant wife, alerted him and he ordered them to go after her and bring her back before she could leave the property. Jonathan remembered having a bad feeling about what was coming next in the tale.

His father had paused again, gulping more bourbon and told him, "A harried car pursuit ensued, with the security meatheads becoming aggressive, they forced my Jocelyn's car off the private road, where she hit a tree. She had multiple injuries and went into labor. She was hysterical, crying and so afraid for our baby. She wouldn't allow me to touch her, or help her." Valentine's eyes had softened and he looked at the fire. Jonathan had never seen this look on his father's face and it unnerved him to see his father so vulnerable. So weak.

Shaking off that particular memory, Jonathan opened the box of hair dye, emptying its contents on his bathroom counter. Opening the containers he mixed the solution, per the instructions and began applying it to his white-blonde head, short beard, and eyebrows. He massaged the dye into his hair as his thoughts went back to that night. He remembered his father had paused his long story again, refilling both of their glasses, obviously not concerned that his teenage son was becoming inebriated along with him. "Although I have always been able to hold my liquor, " Jonathan said to his own reflection. "Unlike Father".

Valentine told Jonathan that his medical team rushed Jocelyn back to his manor. There had been an elite staff of physicians and nurses at the manor during Jocelyn's third trimester. The best money could buy. There was no way Valentine would allow a mundane hospital to touch his precious wife. Jocelyn's labor had been very traumatic. She had suffered placental abruption because of the crash, causing her to hemorrhage, losing a lot of blood. "So much blood…I nearly lost her." Valentine had sighed to him. Valentine continued his sordid tale, telling young Jonathan about the difficult labor and extensive measures the doctors had to use to save Jocelyn. They had eventually placed her into a medically-induced coma to stabilize her and allow her to begin to recover. She was able to hold their son briefly before losing consciousness. "Our son, my heir, Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, with his mother's beautiful red hair, lived for one day, then died from the trauma." His father said flatly. My older half-brother, by only a few days. Better him than me.

Valentine had stood, walked over to the fireplace mantel, and fixed his eyes on his new painting, "Her Eyes", as if he wished for the green-eyed girl to turn and look at him. He then returned to his chair, sat and looked at Jonathan with an icy glare. When he spoke, Jonathan's blood ran cold. Valentine told him he had been furious, heart-broken and blamed Lilith for everything. She had ruined his marriage, harmed his wife, and caused the death of his son and heir. He swore to take his bastard from her and make the bitch pay. So he did. His father did not go into details of how it happened, but spoke so softly, Jonathan had to lean forward to hear his next words. "The day after our beautiful Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern left us, Sebastian Jonathan Morgenstern, a strong vibrant white-haired boy was born. He was beautiful. If you didn't know about the insane bitch that bore him, he would have been perfect. That was you, my son." Jonathan had swallowed the lump that grew in his throat, washing it away with his father's bourbon. His father had almost sounded affectionate towards him. Almost.

Valentine had taken Lilith's newborn and passed the child off as his and Jocelyn's, replacing her child that died, renaming him Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern. Lucky me. I kind of liked the name Sebastian, but no one asked me.

Valentine had smiled into his glass of bourbon and said, "Lilith was never seen or heard from again. I made certain she would never interfere with Jocelyn's recovery or our new family."

Jonathan always assumed he killed her or paid her off. Probably the former,he thought to himself. Regardless, he had never heard from her, so she was another useless mother to him. He stepped into his shower to wash the dye solution out of his hair to complete his new look. He stood in the scalding water, lathering himself from head to toe. He thought back to when his father had finally wrapped up the story and got to why Jocelyn left them.

Valentine had slammed his glass down on the table, making his son flinch, and waiting for a slap. He instead wiped his hand over his face in exhaustion and continued his story. When Jocelyn was allowed to awake, weeks later, she hadn't remembered any of the events leading to the crash and had vague recollections of her traumatic birth before being sedated. She told Valentine that she had heard her newborn son's cry and instantly loved him. She swore the white-haired newborn that was thrust into her arms sounded different, and questioned if it was even her son. "I had to keep her medicated to keep her questions to a minimum…to make her feel as though she was remembering things wrong…" he had said. Jonathan, as he had almost the entire night, dared not respond, lest his father not finish his story.

Valentine continued, "Over the next year, Jocelyn suffered from severe post-partum depression and had a difficult time bonding with you, often preferring that nannies take over your care. She pulled away from me as well. She suffered from nightmares about fucking Lilith and the accident, and– never mind. I kept reinforcing that it was all in her head. That I loved her so very much. That she was mine" His father had looked away from Jonathan at that point. He knew that Valentine was referring to the punishment he had dealt Jocelyn before she ran from him, which was also probably prevalent in her nightmares. His father told him he had kept her medicated and tried to control her "fears and paranoia", having his trusted man Lucian Graymark, "the fucking traitor", become her personal bodyguard when he couldn't be with her. The drugs seemed to work for a while and Jocelyn became more of an affectionate mother to the baby and came back to Valentine for a while and their marriage began to heal.

Apparently having a doped-up, pliant wife was okay with dear old dad. I personally prefer my women with more fire, Jonathan thought to himself, as the he rinsed the suds from his body. His mind traveled back to his father that night. To this day, he was still not sure if he had all of the facts, not that it really mattered now.

His father had diminished into the sloppy-drunk portion of his dark story-time. His speech was consistently slurred and he had spoken slowly. From what Jonathan could glean, sometime during his second year of life, Jocelyn's memories of the day her true child was born came back to her. There was no trigger, she just awoke one morning and everything was clear. Jocelyn had angrily confronted Valentine in their bedroom telling him everything she now knew; that she remembered a very pregnant Lilith screaming horrible truths about Valentine. She remembered Valentine assaulting her when she tried to leave him. She remembered running, the crash, her baby's birth…her son's weak cry and his bright red curls. She had told Valentine that she knew that the white-haired Jonathan Morgenstern had to be Lilith's and Valentine's. Her baby had died and Valentine had replaced him and lied to her. She had become hysterical and tried to run out of the room, away from him.

The confrontation had turned violent, as they often did when you challenged Valentine Morgenstern. Jocelyn had been punished and he had her locked in their bedroom to be 'corrected' for weeks afterwards, with only him and Lucian having access. Jonathan imagined his Father's method of 'correcting' Jocelyn involved a lot of time in bed, and of course his affinity for whipping. One day Valentine was called away for an emergency meeting that was actually a ruse set up by Lucian Graymark. Lucian, who obviously was in love with Jocelyn, had used his connections with British Intelligence to arrange her escape. Jocelyn, with her family's and traitorous lover's help, escaped from him for good, this time. His father had fallen asleep snoring in his chair, as if the end of his story had drained him. Young Jonathan had finally stood after many hours, listening to his father's revelations, and walked to the fireplace. He stared at the painting and finished his bourbon in one gulp and threw the glass into the fire. He turned, and took in the image of his father, slouched, drunk and pathetic in his throne. He took the glass out of Valentine's hand and finished the drink. Fuck him and fuck Jocelyn, he thought.

Smiling, Jonathan stepped out of the shower and looked at his reflection again, speaking. "Jocelyn the Whore and her dog Luke thought they were done with the Morgensterns for good, and they were for a time. That is until I came to visit Mother Dearest and finished that story, once and for all." He then dried off, and wrapped a large black towel around his waist. He combed his now lustrous black hair and inspected his dark beard. He definitely didn't look like Valentine now. He walked into his room, opened his closet and pulled out his costume. It consisted of a long fitted black wool overcoat with gold runic embroidery, slim pants, gloves and riding boots. All black. One of his spies had told him that Clarissa loved a character called "The Darkling" in some Fantasy book series. He had read the series in a day for context. It wasn't really his cup of tea, but if it got him closer to Clarissa, he'd gladly become her Darkling.

Jonathan couldn't wait to see her again. He had managed to finagle an invitation to a party at an exclusive club in Manhattan that night called Pandemonium. It was a Halloween costume party and his spies were able to find out that Clarissa was close friends with the owner, Magnus Bane. His father had given him strict orders to continue to monitor Clarissa, but not to make contact with her. Valentine planned to officially introduce them at a lunch date late next week. His father had somehow managed to get her to agree to meet them. Jonathan had decided that it wouldn't do to wait so long and decided to disguise himself and meet her on his terms. Tonight. Jonathan felt his dick harden at the thought of dancing with Clarissa, touching her, of just speaking to her. He squeezed his erection and walked back to the shower, discarding the towel to deal with his new problem. It wouldn't do for him to have a perma-hard on the entire night. As he turned the shower back on, he thought back to a time he had secretly watched Clarissa dancing with her classmates at a club in Rome, and got to work on his now painful erection. Her hips swayed and her curls whirled around her shoulders, her eyes closed… He finished rather quickly and had to take another quick shower.

As he cleaned himself off, Jonathan thought back to when his father shared his plans with him. Valentine had ordered him to go to New York and burn down Luke Garroway's home. Easy-peasy… Apparently his father had decided after all these years to exact revenge on his former friend. It probably had something to do with the beautiful redhead he discovered in Rome. His Clarissa. Jonathan hadn't shared how much he had learned about Clarissa during his time in Rome. It tormented Valentine that Jocelyn had a child that he hadn't known about…that Clarissa may have been his or Garroway's. Possibly another Morgenstern heir… He told Jonathan that she looked so much like her mother, a stunning, gorgeous woman. His father was not kidding. She was breathtaking and he had wanted her immediately, sister or not.

The original plan was to bring both women to Morgenstern Manor in Idris, where they belonged. First, he was to take Jocelyn and make Luke believe she died in the fire, and then take Clarissa after she arrived back in New York. Next, Valentine wanted to watch Luke suffer from afar, as he scrambled to find his missing daughter, yadda yadda…After watching and learning about Clarissa in Rome, via his spies (what she thought were friends from school, Jonathan had approached and paid to watch and report on her), Jonathan made his own plans and they certainly hadn't involved mummy Jocelyn.

Back in August, the day he killed Jocelyn Fairchild Morgenstern Fray Garroway Jonathan decided to carry out his father's orders alone, without his usual helpers. No witnesses running back to father that way, he thought to himself. He had broken into the house in the morning after he saw Jocelyn and Luke each leave for the day in separate vehicles. He easily disabled their security system and cameras as he wandered through their home, taking note of all of the beautiful original paintings. He saw several of Jocelyn's signed pieces. So talented. But he was quite taken with the pieces that were Clarissa's. Where Jocelyn's pieces were more wistful and whimsical, Clarissa's were much more vivid, passionate, and darker even. Was she his soulmate?

As he continued to explore the house, he paused at a large table full of framed pictures. He smiled at what an adorable little girl Clarissa had been and marveled at what a beautiful girl, teenager, and young woman she blossomed into. He picked up a picture of her in a strapless red prom dress, standing next to a weak-ass looking nerdy teenager in a tuxedo with large glasses. He frowned at the boy in the picture, jealous that he had spent such an evening with her. Holding her. Dancing with her. Had he tried to fuck her? Jonathan growled to himself. He put the picture back, face down and looked at the next one. Clarissa looked about sixteen or seventeen and was wearing a green and yellow, tight sleeveless cheerleading uniform, her toned arms were up in the air in triumph, holding pom-poms. Her shapely legs were spread wide in the splits, her skirt bunched up, exposing her thighs. "I wonder if you're still this flexible." He said to the photo. Her hair was pulled back from her smiling face, into two French braids hanging down on either side of her chest. Jonathan's eyes widened. "What a wet dream…" He slipped the picture out of the frame and into his pocket for later.

He turned and made his way up the stairs, looking in the bedrooms. It was obvious that Clarissa didn't live with them full time anymore, judging by her bedroom. It still had teenage posters, some miscellaneous sketches, ribbons, awards, and high school photos on the walls. There were cardboard boxes with books, trophy's, and other forgotten items in front of the closet. Jonathan approached the dresser and opened a few drawers and found clothing still within. She must stay here sometimes, Jonathan thought. He pulled out a small pair of purple silky panties and smirked. He shoved them in his pocket with the photo and moved out of Clarissa's teenage bedroom, and made his way down the hallway.

The last door of the long hallway turned out to be exactly what he hoped it would be. Jocelyn's personal art studio. It had a large open area with several easels with variable works in multiple phases of completion. "She certainly is a rare talent", he said aloud. There were several shelves with many different kinds of supplies; brushes, sponges, rags, cans and tubes of paint, palettes, chalks, everything one could think of. Jonathan's eyes stopped on a small photo in a silver frame on her work desk. It was a close-up picture of a much younger Jocelyn, holding a newborn Clary in her arms. Jocelyn's green eyes were tearful and full of love as she looked down on a sleeping Clary. A cold anger had twisted in Jonathan's gut at seeing Jocelyn so lovingly hold her baby. It was a feeling he wasn't used to. Jealousy. Thoughts had flooded into his head, "Why couldn't she have loved me? I was just a baby…it wasn't my fucking fault. If she had never left, perhaps I could have had love, not violence. Bitch". Jonathan jumped when he heard a voice coming down the hall towards the studio. Jocelyn's. Jonathan quickly slipped into the closet across the room, rattling the shelves lined with homemade candles within, leaving the door cracked open.

"Hi Clare-bear, why haven't you called me back, baby? You know I worry, love…" Jocelyn walked to her work table and set her phone down, putting it on speaker as she dropped shopping bags on the floor. "You're probably already on your flight to Amsterdam now…" She turned her back to the closet and Jonathan slipped out behind her, as she continued to leave Clarissa's voicemail. "Oh well remember to call–" Jocelyn, as if sensing someone behind her had turned quickly and gasped when she saw Jonathan. He stood very tall with a tight smile on his face as he looked intently into her green eyes. Jocelyn's eyes had widened in terror and started to turn back to grab her phone.

"Wait, who are you? V-Val-Jonathan? Oh my god–" Jonathan grinned and nodded at her, then tilted his head to the side and reached forward, grabbing Jocelyn by the shoulders. He spun her so her back pressed tightly to his chest. She screamed and lunged toward the phone. Music to my ears, Jonathan thought, easily pulling her back against him.

"…Clary baby, listen to me don't come home. Let GO of me…" Jocelyn thrashed, trying to break free from Jonathan's iron grip. He picked her up and walked toward the phone on the table while Jocelyn started sobbing and screamed some more.

"Clary I love– Help! He–" Jonathan reached forward with one hand and ended the call then put Jocelyn in a loose sleeper-hold. He would have to try to get Clarissa's phone before she got the message. Not likely.

Jonathan had turned his head, leaning down to Jocelyn's ear, he inhaled deeply and murmured, "Hello mummy. Did you miss me? Father decided it was time for us to meet again and bring you back home to be punished. You and Clarissa both, of course. Oh! Tell me. Is dear Clarissa my little sister? Just wondering…" Jocelyn shook her head back and forth violently, sobbing and tearing at his arms with her nails, and kicked her legs out. Nothing worked as Jonathan tightened his grip. "No matter. Father will have the answer to that question soon. He's going to meet her in Amsterdam and I'm going to have her whether she's my sister or not. Maybe I'll take her when I see her at the airport tomorrow. I think I have an idea, though, sweet mother." Jonathan continued to tighten his grip as Jocelyn gasped for air, her struggles weakened. "I'm only going to take Clarissa. You can stay here, with your Luke. Forever." He continued to squeeze until Jocelyn fell limp and unconscious in his arms. Jonathan gently laid her on the floor, across from the table, in the corner by the closet.

"Goodnight mummy. I wish things could have gone differently, but I know you would never allow me to be with Clarissa and frankly I'm not in the fucking mood to try and win you over. Father tried and failed at that too many times. I am definitely not my father." He pulled several candles from the closet and lined them up on her worktable, lighting each one. He then pulled the shelving unit down. It shattered on the floor, spilling all of the supplies. He grabbed a few cans of paint and thinner, opened them and placed them next to the candles. He grabbed some of the rags out of the mess on the floor, twisted them and put one end in the candles, the other in the paint and thinner cans. He smiled when the rags caught fire and the flames started to spread across the table, catching on the curtains behind it. He picked up a bottle of turpentine, turned and walked over to Jocelyn's unconscious form, squatted down and kissed her forehead. "Goodbye Jocelyn…Fairchild Morgenstern Fray Garroway." He stood and poured the liquid over her body, saturating her clothes. After he threw the bottle amongst the mess on the floor, Jonathan turned and left the house, the fire burning out of control.

Jonathan smiled at the memory of killing Jocelyn and got out of the shower and dried off again. He walked over to his bed and picked up Clarissa's phone and walked over to his dresser, where an ornate box laid atop. The box was dark mahogany with his initials JCM inlaid with gold leaf. It was where Jonathan kept his personal treasures. He opened the box and placed the phone inside, where amongst his keepsakes, was Clarissa's high school cheerleader picture, purple panties, and of course the sexy sketch he had swiped from her at the airport. I'll see you tonight, my Clarissa.