(a/n: Asia is the daughter of Alec Lightwood and Magnus Lightwood-Bane. OC who will appear in many of these stories :>)
Asia smashed her fist into the wall again, each hit sending a satisfying jolt of pain through her knuckles. Blood was dripping now, a slow and steady trickle down her wrist. With a grin that didn't reach her eyes, she swung her fist back around for another go.
"Enough," Andrew said, "Unless your plan is to redecorate with a crime scene aesthetic." She scowled, shoving him away. She glanced down at the blood steadily dripping from her hand, flexed her fingers, and winced.
"I'm fine," she muttered. "I'm fine." She reached down and pulled out her dagger.
"Asia," Andrew said, his voice filled with warning. If I was really going to kill myself, you'd know. She gave him a hard stare before brushing past him.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To the bathroom," she shot back. "Don't worry; if I stab myself, I'll make sure to scream loud enough for you to hear."
Inside the bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror and stared at her reflection. The shadows under her eyes, the mess of hair sticking out in every direction, the blood that had started to dry on her skin—it was a look, for sure. Maybe not the one that would get her on the cover of Vogue, but definitely one that would win her Most Likely to Snap in the yearbook.
She gripped the knife in her hand, feeling its weight. Shadowhunters weren't allowed mundane tattoos, but who needed ink when you had scars?
She tightened her hold on the blade, positioning it over her wrist. She dragged it across her skin with a slight hiss, barely feeling the pain as she carved their initials into her flesh:
Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane
The warmth of his embrace after every nightmare. His voice, steady and calming, promising protection.
Another slit
Another initial
Magnus Lightwood-Bane
A flash of color, his smile that was brighter than any spell he could cast. And the memory of the time he actually bought her an actual mall because she wanted makeup. Typical Dad move.
Another
Raphael Santiago
Her fathers' savior
Lost twice
Rafael Lightwood-Bane
Big brother. Big protector. Always there to watch her back, to crack a joke when things got too real. And now? Gone.
Her hand moved, the knife cutting through more skin.
Max Michael Lightwood-Bane
Her always-happy brother who tried so hard to keep the peace, his jokes a calm in the family's chaos.
Max Lightwood
Her dad's brother. Dead before she was even born. Talk about getting cheated on family bonding time.
Lost twice
Jace Wayland-Fairchild
Her favorite uncle, whose stories of ducks as bloodthirsty monsters still made her cry.
Her hands shook, the blood starting to drip more heavily now. The memories hurt almost as much as the blade.
Lost twice
Clary Wayland-Fairchild
Her art partner, the one who taught her how to get paint in places paint should never go. They laughed together so much, now it felt like she'd never laugh again.
She kept going.
Jem Wayland-Fairchild
Sweet cousin, sassy smile. Gone, because apparently one loss per family just wasn't tragic enough.
Lost twice
Simon Lovelace-Lightwood
Uncle Simon, the geek who introduced her to Star Wars, like some weird legacy she never asked for. Well, that legacy was over too.
Her vision blurred, but she carved another.
Lost thrice
Izzy Lovelace-Lightwood
The thrill of shopping trips, her aunt always showing her how to feel powerful in her own skin.
George Lovelace-Lightwood
Training sessions, laughter, all of it gone like everything else.
She could barely hold the knife now.
Lost twice
Ragnar Fell
The flash of green skin, a crooked grin.
Lost twice
Catarina Loss
Her presence, like a steady lighthouse amidst a raging storm.
Asia stopped and stared down at her bloodied wrist, blood dripping down her hand and pooling on the floor. Thirteen years old, and she'd already lost more than most people did in a lifetime. Thirteen. She laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and ugly in the quiet room. She wasn't really crying. It was just raining inside somehow.
She screamed—a sound of pure agony tearing from her throat as she collapsed to the floor, her body shaking uncontrollably.
"Why couldn't it be me? WHYYY? TAKE ME TOO, PLEASE!" she screamed, her cries breaking into jagged sobs. She would never hear her brothers' laughter, nor her dads whispering soft words of love in the quiet of night. No more stories from Jace about ducks. No more training sessions, no more family. 13 years old and a complete orphan.
"Why couldn't it be me?" she whimpered through her tears. Her family—her entire family—was gone, leaving her behind like some cruel afterthought.
Her eyes drifted to the bloodied blade in her hand. She could end it here, cut through the thin line tethering her to this empty world. She could but she wouldn't. She wasn't going to die by her own hand; that would be too easy. If the angels wouldn't take her she would have to live. Live for her family.
Bloodied, broken, but still standing. Because that's what a Lightwood-Bane does.
(a/n First story ever. ending was so whack :P)
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Multi-Fandom One Shots
FanfictionRawr who doesn't love multi fandom stuff. Angst. Fluff. Crack. Maybe smut. Request open :D Copywrite disclaimer, I don't own any of the characters. Will mark as completed but continue to add some chapters. Read the first chapter for more details and...
