Stay with me

Chapter 1: The Nightmare

Darkness. Swirling shadows. That's all Simon could see as he pummelled down a never ending hole. He lost track of time; had it been seconds? Days? Simon closed his eyes and when he opened them, a looming figure hovered above him. All the happiness had been sucked out of the air; this giant black sponge had absorbed everything good.
"Who are you?" Simon shouted into the void. He wasn't sure if he expected an answer or not, but it was worth a try.
"Hello, Simon Lewis," rasped the voice of the monster before him. "It's been a while."
Simon shuddered at the voice. An evil voice. A voice that he recognized. But how could this be? How could this monster be here? He wouldn't have remembered this creature if it's awful raspy voice hadn't been lurking in the deepest corners of his mind. And there were the images. Flashes of black, red. Glints of hard skin or razor teeth. It's not as if his life hadn't been complicated enough without these strange illusions. The whole deal with the memory loss and a new beginning into the shadow world. Introductions to his old friends, who carried looks of dismay and worry. He wished he could remember; he wished it more than anything. Memories had even started to come to him like bubbles that reveal answers to his life with each tiny pop.
But he did remember him. The demon who caused all this. The demon that stole his memories and left him with just a shell of himself; a basic mundane with no recollection of the extraordinary shadowhunters. Simon was furious. This demon had made a fool of him, had taken away everything he cared about and all because Simon had wanted to save his friends.
"Why are you here? How are you here?" He shouted.
"Oh, but I'm simply in your head. Foolish mundane," the demon chuckled. "I am here because you have stolen something of mine."
"What would that be? Incase you don't remember, because I barely do, I haven't seen your ugly face since that night. Thank God for that," Simon retorted.
The demon glared darkly at Simon. "Your memories."
"You've already taken those!"
"You've started to take them back. Everything you remember, I lose."
"So what? They were mine in the first place," Simon argued.
"If you will not return them, I will simply come and take them," the monster spat. "I will come to earth and find you. And when I do, you will be lucky if your memories are the only things I take."
"How are you getting to earth, huh? Last time I checked, you were partying it up in hell, you son of a bitch."
The demon hissed menacingly but Simon stood firm. This guy did say they were in Simon's head, didn't he? That meant Simon controlled what happened, right? Before the demon could continue, Simon yelled at the top of his lungs, "Get out of my head!"

Simon's eyes snapped open. He sat straight up in bed, drenched in sweat. His hands shook as he swallowed a few gulps of air and got out of bed. After a quick shower, Simon tossed on a pair of jeans and a red hoodie, and then hurried out the door in the direction of the New York institute. He knew he could count on the shadowhunters; they would definitely know what to do.
It was early. The misty pinks and oranges of dawn filled the sky. Traffic wasn't bad and no one gave him a second glance. Most of New York was still asleep, except for the late night partiers who were just stumbling home and the men and woman who had to get to work.
As Simon approached the grand doors of the institute, his stomach twisted into knots. Isabelle might be inside. What if she answered the door? What would Simon say? He knocked twice and could hear the loud thumps resonate in the relatively quiet morning air. In truth, he hadn't even acknowledged the time. That's when the doors opened and a sleepy looking Jace Herondale glared at him. He was wearing nothing but black sweatpants and his muscles were on full display. Runes covered his chest and arms.
"By the angel, why are you knocking at my door at five a.m?" Jace sounded a little angry about being woken up so early, but this was more important than some arrogant shadowhunter's beauty sleep.
"It's important," Simon said.
"Well, it better be or I really wouldn't want to be you," Jace threatened.
"I had a dream-" he started. Jace cut him off, "This is why you came? Some silly dream? Go home, Simon. I'll even give you a ten second head start."
"Oh, shut up and let me in," said Simon. "This wasn't just any dream. The demon who stole all of my memories made an appearance and threatened to steal them back."
Jace didn't even looked fazed. Actually, he looked rather bored. Maybe it was because he was tired; it was early after all. He simply opened the door and got in the elevator. Simon followed him down the wide corridors and into the kitchen.
"Wait here. I'll be back with the others," Jace assured him and walked away. Simon heaved a sigh and sat patiently for the other members of the institute to arrive.
Jace returned with Clary, Alec, and Isabelle in tow.
"This better be good," Izzy muttered. But she looked up at Simon with affectionate eyes full of hope and sorrow. He gave her a grim smile which she returned hesitantly. Simon thought Isabelle looked stunning, even in her black silk pyjamas and with dark circles under her eyes. He hoped she was okay.
"What's wrong, Simon?" Clary asked, sitting beside him on a kitchen stool. Her hair was in braids and she was wearing pink and white stripped pyjama pants with a navy shirt. She squeezed his hand reassuringly and he instantly felt a little better. Simon told them everything that had happened: how the demon was planning to come to earth and take back his memories.
"Oh my god. Simon, that's awful!" Clary exclaimed.
"Thank you. I hadn't noticed," he replied sarcastically. Clary lightly punched his arm and Simon feigned severe pained. She giggled but then remembered that everyone was watching and that they had a serious problem on their hands.
"Well, I'm not letting that filthy bastard steal your memories. Again," Isabelle said defiantly. Simon's heart fluttered and he felt heat rise into his cheeks. The others nodded in agreement.
"We need to find out how he's planning to get to earth," Jace explained, "and stop it."
"We'll find out. But in the meantime I figure Simon could use some training. He needs to know how to fight," Clary added.
"I'll train him," volunteered Izzy. Everyone stared at her.
"Are you sure?" Alec asked her. She nodded then looked over at Simon.
"We can start this afternoon."
"Okay," he said. Then they all headed back to their rooms, Clary leading him to a spare bedroom so he could get some rest as well. But she stayed in the doorway.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Clary asked, like any good friend would. All of his Clary memories had surfaced, probably because he'd known her for years.
"I'm fine," Simon said. It wasn't the complete truth. Gaining back his memory was like trying to glue a vase back together after shattering into a million pieces. All of these fragments of the past trying to reunite to create a whole. It was a frustrating process, but it was working. However, lots of the past was completely forgotten. Simon was really struggling. The visions, the voices, the constant feeling that he should know something but didn't. It was like his memories were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't form a complete idea to save his life. Clary gave him a weary look, like she didn't believe him and came to sit next to him on the bed. "Have you remembered anything else?"
"You asked me that yesterday," Simon complained.
"That was yesterday," Clary said. "I'm asking you now."
Simon remembered most of the big things, like being a vampire, having the mark of cain, killing Lilith, and summoning the angel Raziel. He also remembered some of the demon realms: saving Izzy, then a dark night in a cave. There was kissing. But it was all still a little hazy. Mostly he didn't remember Isabelle. The hardest to lose and the hardest to get back. And, oh, how he wanted to get it back. All of it.
"A bit. I- I remember the night on the demon ship," he told Clary. "And the drama with my mom..." It was hard for Simon to think about. How his mother had looked at him: face full of revulsion and horror. How she had warded the house so he couldn't enter. How the Star of David had burnt his fingers. It was too much.
Clary nodded, a look of pity sketched on her face. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," Simon said, looking down at the floor. "It's not your fault."
Clary wrapped her arms around him in a friendly gesture. He held onto her, refusing to let her know how defeated he really felt.
"It'll be okay," she assured him. They broke apart and Clary headed back to her own room. Simon was left alone in the dark. He fell back onto the plush black covers and stared at the smooth ceiling, wishing to remember what had cruelly been stolen.