Lacrymose

Bend and Shatter

Bend and Shatter

What does it take for Clary to shatter?

Jonathan had always been cruel.

His thoughts were as dark as his charcoal eyes, dark from birth and any chance he had to regain his humanity was long-gone. His father was Valentine Morgenstern and there was little chance of any child of Valentine having even a shred of mercy.

So Jonathan grew up twisted and cruel, the type of child who would set fire to the wings of butterflies and watched as the died in a fiery blaze, trying to fly away from the pain on wings aflame. He strung animals up, crucified and tortured creatures until he knew everything there was to know about them.

His evil was more than skin deep, embedded deep in his bones and his soul and he must have seen it coming.

He learned the ways that one could bend and snap another. A few mind games here, a little fear manipulation here- and their spines would crumble like a branch into ashes.

But he's always sought the perfect prize.

Hair like that dying butterfly, set ablaze and flying with movement- keen and desperate. That skin so fair and those eyes so wide, like viridian nightshade stamped with hatred. She hated him so- with fiery loathing that set fire to him in ways he had never felt before. And he feared her but he loved her.

Because she terrified the darkness, as though her flame could drive that ancient darkness scampering into the night and that evil would not let her do that.

So he had broken her, as completely as he could.

He had enjoyed it, that sick fantasy come to life and he remembered the cruel moment when her eyes opened- and all he saw was the glossy sheen of resignation in her eyes.

She had been whipped and beaten, her scars laced with demons blood and so tainted that each would scar forever. And she would always feel him on her skin, like a virus or some malignant grit upon her skin- and she would never been rid of him. And he felt... oh, so territorial over her and his heart swelled with a sick pride. Because that man- who had once stolen his name, that man would never have her because how could his little sister let anyone near now?

When friendly touch would drive splinters under her skin- as he had done.

When gentle touch would send lashes of phantom pain like whip weals- just as he had shown here.

When the softness of lips touched upon hers- all she would feel were the sharp teeth of her brother upon her flesh.

And, if miracles should happen and she let someone in enough to trust them with it- how could she ever make love?

She'd been used and torn apart and bloody and bruised. Taken in the most heinous ways he knew- and then some, things even his evil had shrunk back from but still he had done it. She would never seek comfort in another soul- not while she lived apart from him.

And one day, she would go crazy, trapped in a world where she only saw hurt in a sea of love. She would crave that terror and anger and desperation- that only he could give her.

And she would seek him out, insane with the want to be able to feel, that terror and pain that was all she had left.

And then...

Then he, Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, will have won.