Running Away From Jace

Everything Lost

She still couldn't breathe properly, it seemed, even a few hours later.

Allison had retreated to her room after takeout from a place somewhere in Manhattan that had slipped a flyer under their apartment door. Her bright eyes had been so frozen and hard, like green chips of icy hate, her blonde hair shining in the New York sunset leaking in through their windows making it glow like a halo around her face.

It pained Clary to be the cause of that look in her daughter's eyes, but there wasn't a thing she could do. Not when she was struggling herself and couldn't get away from all the memories for the life of her.

Jia had allowed her to leave shortly after dropping that declaration of war on top of her shoulders, Robert grunting something in protest to the Consul—Clary couldn't recall what it was anymore, not that it mattered.

Nothing mattered more than Allison—nothing was more important than keeping her little girl safe. Even if that meant killing Sebastian, killing whoever in their right mind had decided to resurrect the most terrifying demon from Clary's past.

And absurd as it sounded, even as a flickering thought in her head, she debated boarding up the windows and installing every kind of security system money could buy—but again, that was absolutely ridiculous and wasteful; no flimsy job with wood and nails or silly locks and cameras could keep out the tyrant that was her brother.

For what could have been the hundredth time since she'd been home today, Clary wanted to be a Disney princess for just a moment and throw herself dramatically across an object and sob so loudly the neighbors downstairs and down the hall could hear. There wasn't a word powerful enough to describe how scared, how utterly, purely terrified she was at the prospect of Sebastian living again—terrified of the things a demon who'd been resurrected to start a war could do.

XXX

Crawling into bed and turning off the lights had been the easy part—not peering too closely at the shadows of her new room was the hard part.

Tossing and turning did nothing, neither did flipping and folding her pillow—every time she closed her eyes, she saw Sebastian holding a knife to Jace's throat and his army of Endarkened slaughtering children and adults alike, as though they were nothing more than stocks of wheat in need of a trim; she saw Sebastian on top of her, pining her firmly in place in the chaos of broken glass and vicious looks as she fought against him, his hold, his cold ashen fingers playing still with the button on her jeans, the buttons on her blouse, dancing across the fabric of it as if he were going to rip it from her body, rip it apart. She almost felt his fingers on her again, slipping beneath the waistband of her pants, playing with the elastic of her underwear. Clary wanted to be sick.

It didn't take long for the tears to start, quietly and soft at first as she rocked herself with her knees tucked into her chest. Then her throat felt constricted and her skin was hot, flushed. She felt Sebastian's forceful mouth upon hers, unyielding and demanding, and Clary feared that if she dared open her eyes she'd be back to the ruins of Fairchild manner, the land scorched black and supposedly cursed. She couldn't go back—never, never ever.

It was only when her door opened and a long shadow was cast over her bed did the redhead realize that she was shuddering, sobs wracking her petite frame as she clutched one of her pillows so tightly her hands sort of ached when she released her grip.

"Mom?" It wasn't the voice of her fierce, courageous teenage daughter—it was her little girl, timid and scared that her Mommy was crying. Clary took in a hiccupping breath, sniffling as she went to open her mouth. But she couldn't—she couldn't face Allison like this. She needed to be strong, whole, indestructible in the eyes of her baby.