TMI FanFiction
*Clary Fray*
Clary felt as if her legs may fall of. She'd been running for what felt like forever. There were faces appearing on the walls. They looked vaguely familiar - like actors she couldn't quite place. She felt their emotions as she raced through the barren corridors. The anger, the love, the betrayal...
She was swinging a bright, silver sword. At what, Clary wasn't sure.
Clary had had dreams like this before, she remembered the turns, the openings in the walls as well as she remembered her own home back in Brooklyn.
As Clary ran, she heard footsteps echoing behind her. She didn't dare turn to look. She'd made that mistake before.
Clary sprinted to the exit that she knew was right around that turn. She jumped, grabbed the wall's corner and swung herself to what she thought would be familiar territory.
The corridor opened to a great, dark courtyard. The sky above was dark red. The colour of drying blood.
Clary stopped and turned to see only solid stone from where she had come. The dark cobblestone beneath her bare feet felt cold as ice. The ground was littered with dead flowers of every kind. But what scared Clary the most was not the aura of death and despair in the place, but the three men staring at her from the opposite wall.
Clary's legs pulled her towards them. She kicked and screamed, but she knew it was useless. She had no control over this dream. Everything from this point on was a new chapter, nothing she had witnessed before.
As the men became clearer, Clary screamed again. They were tall, dressed in dark grey robes that covered almost their entire body. Clary had dreamed up many ugly faces. Demons and monsters that made the Boogie Man seem like child's play. But these men, or whatever they were, scared her more than anything. Their faces were obviously human, but scarred and disfigured. Their mouths were stitched tightly together and their cheeks had strange marking on them. Where their eyes should have been, there were hollow depths that seems to stare straight into the inner depths of her soul.
You have come far, child.
Clary turned to see who had talked. But she knew there'd be no one there. The voice had been in her head, crystal clear.
But you cannot run from who you are.
Clary didn't want to face the figures. Their voices were sharp inside her brain, tearing through her memories, confusing the reals and not-reals.
"What do you want from me?" she sobbed. "I'm only dreaming, you can't hurt me." but she wasn't so sure.
A soothing voice tore through her suffering.
Clary woke with a start. She was sitting upright in her small, flamboyant room. The window was open, letting in the fresh, scent of morning breeze.
Clary's mother was standing at her side. A strong, beautiful woman with dark hair pulled back in a loose knot.
"Nightmare?" Jocelyn asked.
"Yeah."
"How bad?"
Clary had learnt not to scare her mom too much.
"Nothing dramatic."
Jocelyn didn't look convinced but let the subject go. "You ready for school, kiddo? Last day of the year! You excited?"
"For summer break? Yes. For 'improvement' exams? No."
Jocelyn laughed, "You'll do fine. It's only to see if you've actually learnt anything this year."
~~~~~~~~~~
Clary got up and walked to the bathroom. Her reddish, brown hair looked like she'd just been dragged by her feet behind a New York taxi.
How am I going to concentrate? She thought.
She washed her face, while wishing she could get rid of the small freckles scattered over her nose.
Clary dressed in a pair of faded, skinny jeans and a T-shirt matching perfectly with her hair and old boots.
As she ran out the door, she grabbed an olive windshield and struggled into it while taking the stairs to the first floor two at a time.
~~~~~~~~~~
Clary didn't have much. But her mom, Luke and Simon made up for that. As she sat, waiting, on a park bench, Clary couldn't help thinking about all the times she and Simon had spent together. They'd known each other since they were born, and have done everything together.
Clary jumped as two hands folded themselves over her face.
"Who is it?" said Simon in a voice that was clearly not his natural one.
"I'm not an idiot, Simon!"
"Could have fooled me," he replied.
Typical Simon, Clary reminisced to herself.
The two sixteen year olds made their way sluggishly towards Brooklyn High. Stopping only for a take away from Starbucks.
"Hey, Eric's got a poetry reading tonight. Interested?" Simon asked.
"Another one? How is he still getting into these places?"
"You know, I bet he's really good. We just don't know it yet."
~~~~~~~~~~
Clary and Simon were greeted by Maia, Jordan and Bat as they walked through the school gates.
"What have you got planned... " Maia started but was interrupted by the bell.
"Catch you guys later then," Clary called over her shoulder as she walked to her art class.
~~~~~~~~~~
By fifth period, Clary was wishing she was in hell. She watched the clock as every second seemed to take hours. Only five minutes left.
BRING!
The bell echoed through the hallway into every desperate classroom.
All at once the school exploded as students ran for every available exit.
Clary veered off the path as soon as she reached the exit. The sky was bright and blue, as summer should be. She thought about all the adventures she and Simon had planned for when they were both sixteen.
Clary was pulled from her daydreaming when a force knocked her shoulder, she dropped the books she was holding.
Isabelle Lightwood waltzed past, not even giving Clary a second look. Next to her was Aline Penhallow. They were known as the 'popular' girls.
Clary hated them.
Simon appeared with Eric at his side. "You ready, Fray?"
It took Clary a moment to process what he was asking. "Oh, uh, the poetry reading? Sure, let's go."
