A/N: Okay, so I jusy want to apologize for a few things:

1. I'm sorry for taking so long to update

2. I'm sorry for this being so rushed and crappy

3. I'm sorry for this being so short

4. I'm sorry for all the excuses I'm going to make now.

I'm REALLY sorry! But I was super stressed over a stupid math test that I kinda had the whole week to finish, and I had a lot of hoework.

Plus, I haven't really felt like writing, so... Sorry :(

I love you guys for sticking with me :)

Shoutout to:

Knightshade-alpha1797, cuz she was really close with one of her guesses, I think,

Indecisivly Undecided, because she actually guessed :P


CannibalDuckWithAnAxe4, because she's awesome, and she guessed, and was really close, too!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments.

Clary took a deep breath to calm her raging nerves. Her thick, red hair hung down her back in glossy waves, her makeup was flawless, and her tight jeans and black t-shirt made her usually nonexistent curves look sexy and mature, but despite her Isabelle-loves-makeovers look, she felt like complete shit.


She was finally going to confront Luke.

After two weeks of skipping his class, Clary thought it was time to get over her stupid fear and learn the reason as to why he practically abandoned her when she was disowned.

It was thirty minutes until fourth period, and Clary had to go. She didn't want the prying stares of the rest of the student body to witness this.

Her past belonged to her, not to them. Her life was not something to gush and gossip about, and if they saw her and Luke together, it would take less than a second before the rumors started travelling around the school. Plus, what happened to her would inevitably come up in the conversation, and if there was something Clary wanted to keep to herself (and Jace), it was that.

No, she had to do it now.

Clary slammed her locker shut with a bang – causing half of the people in the corridor to turn and stare, probably wondering what her problem was – and made her way to the classroom which she knew would be empty except for Luke.

Clary walked towards the closed door with determined steps. Luckily, this part of the school was practically empty, and the only sound to be heard was her sneakers squeaking against the floor, and the distant laughter of her fellow classmates coming from somewhere above her head.

Except, it wasn't.

Hushed voices floated from inside Luke's classroom, and Clary crept closer. One of them definitely belonged to a woman, but she was still too far away to pick up the words. A strand of fiery hair escaped from behind her ears, and Clary brushed it away irately. Somehow, she recognized that voice.

One more step and she was standing directly in front of the door. Bits of words were starting to come through, but she needed to get closer. As silently as possible, Clary pressed her ear against the small opening between the wall and the door, and she could finally understand what they were saying.

"I'm telling you, she was here," Luke said, and Clary wondered if – no. He wasn't talking about her, was he?

"Well, then why haven't I seen her in the last week I've spent in this school with you, looking for her?" the woman asked, anger and a slight note of desperation in her voice.

Oh yeah, they were definitely talking about her. And Clary definitely knew whoever was talking to Luke.

But who was it? And why were they discussing her, of all people?

"I don't know, okay? She hasn't been to my class since the first time, okay?" Clary could hear the shuffling of feet, and when Luke finally spoke again, it was much closer to her, like he was about to go out of the classroom. "I'm sorry if I thought you'd like to see your daughter again after six years."

The blood drained out of Clary's face, and she stumbled backwards, barely avoiding falling flat on her ass. Her breaths were coming in short gasps, and the only thing she was aware of was the overwhelming sensation of the room closing in on her.

Clary turned and ran towards the bathroom just as the fire alarm started.


Clary looked at the image in the mirror before her. The fire alarm was still going off, the water soaking her shirt, but she didn't give a shit. It was probably a drill, anyway.

Jocelyn was there. Her mom was there.

She gripped the sink even harder, and the edges cut into her palms uncomfortably. But as she stood there, shaking, practically unable to move, she found herself taking pleasure in the pain.

You're such a psycho, she thought, disgusted. What, are you gonna start cutting yourself now? You're such a freak.

A foreign emotion built up inside her, until she was so overcome with it she almost fainted. Rage. Panic. Sorrow. Self-hatred.

She let out a pained scream, and some primal instinct took over, and she raised a hand and punched the mirror as hard as she could. It shattered into a million pieces, and they hit the floor about at the same time as Clary did.

She sat on her knees, sobbing, cradling her injured fist. The blood flowed steadily out of the many cuts and stained her clothes, but she was numb to the pain. She was numb to everything. Except . . .

Except for the fact that a strange smell was filling the air, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.


Jace was walking through the crowded 40 corridors, talking to some dude named Jordan, when it happened. The fire.

One second he was just chilling, about to go outside to meet Clary in the woods, and the next thing he knew there were crazed teachers running out of the classrooms, yelling at them to get out, and a wailing alarm pierced his ears.

Clary. He had to get to Clary.

He pushed against the current of panicked students, and made his way to Clary's locker.

She wasn't there.

She was always there. He knew that because she'd told him, because she told him everything.

Why wasn't she there?

"Shit," he swore, and ran towards one of the staircases.

He knew it was a bad idea to just go after her on a hunch – especially when there was a fire – but he had to get to her, dammit!

He opened the door to the smoke filled 20 corridor. It was completely empty, but somehow, he knew this was where Clary was.

"Fuck," he cussed again as he sprinted towards each classroom door, kicking them open with an astounding force, only taking a second to look inside each room, to see if Clary was there – though the smoke made it that much harder to tell.

He was about to give up and go look for her somewhere else, when he heard a loud yell, and the sound of glass breaking.


"Clary! Clary!"

Clary lay on the floor with her head pressed against the cold, wet tiles. Her hear was spread out like a blanket around her, and her breaths were raspy and short, but she couldn't bring herself to move away.

It wouldn't be so bad, would it, if it just ended there? No more pain, no more fake happiness, no more family abandoning you only to come back a few years later.

Her body lifted off the ground, and she felt strong arms envelop her as they carried her. If she wasn't so tired, so close to giving up, her hearts would have raced uncontrollably.


"Shh. I've got you, Clary, I've got you now. You're gonna be okay," he said as he stepped out of the bathroom and started running towards the emergency exit. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

And somehow, even though she was barely conscious, Clary knew he was telling the truth.

A/N: Yup. That sucked. Anyone who guessed