In the Hour of Silence

Chapter 7

"Clarissa Morgenstern?"

I look up to see the secretary in the therapist's office giving me her cheesy smile. "Dr Branwell will see you now."

I sigh and stand up, walking down the hall and to the door with the nameplate 'Dr C Branwell', stopping only to think for a second. I really don't want to do this, but I have to. Besides, she can't make me talk if I don't want to. So, I take a deep breath before I enter the room.

Inside is a fairly big room with a desk, lounge area with two cushiony chairs and a love seat, bookshelves lining one wall, diplomas and certificates lining the wall behind the desk, and a wall that is basically all window. Sitting behind the desk is a woman with brown hair pulled into a high bun, brown eyes, and skin with a slight tan. She looks up and smiles slightly as she sees me.

She stands and brushes out her shirt slightly before walking to me. "Hello Clarissa. My name is Charlotte Branwell. I'll be your therapist until, well, until I feel you've worked out your problems." I just stand there awkwardly as she motions to the lounge area. "Shall we sit?"

I walk over and take a seat on the love seat, Dr Branwell on the chair across from me. I sit awkwardly again until she speaks again. "So, according to your file, you've had quite an awful experience, but there's no detail on it. Why is that?"

I shrug slightly. I don't like talking about that night. I never have.

"But why? I understand what you saw, but it's why you don't talk to anyone about it that I don't understand."

We all cope in our own ways.

"But you're not coping. You're suppressing the memory until you think you've coped with it."

And how would you know? You've known me five minutes and you think you know why I do what I do. You know nothing about me, so don't act like you do. From then on, I don't reply to any question she asks.

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I walk through the streets of Manhattan, feeling completely frustrated. Dr Branwell wouldn't stop pressing, even after I stopped replying. I just need to find something to vent all my anger into.

"Clary!"

I see a familiar girl with ebony hair waving me over. Smiling, I rush over to her. Once I get to her, I wave slightly and she takes my hands. "I hope you have no plans, because I'm taking you clubbing." It's only then that I notice she's in a dark red, skin tight dress and eight inch heels.

I can't. My foster dad said I have to head straight home after therapy. He's still mad about me ditching on Tuesday.

"Oh come on. It's a Saturday night! He'll understand. Besides, he's not even really your dad."

I guess...but I don't even have anything to wear.

Isabelle flashes me a sly smirk. "Oh, you'll have something to wear." She pulls me through the streets of Manhattan until we get to a boutique that seems to be closed called Hell's Angels. Iz pulls me into the back alley and knocks on the door firmly three times. While we wait, she looks back at me. "The owner owes me quite a few favors. She'll have everything we need to get you glammed up for the night."

The door opens to reveal a woman in her mid to late twenties. She looks a lot like both Iz and Alec. Her skin is pale, eyes a brilliant blue, and her hair dark as night. When she speaks, a thick accent leaves her mouth. "Isabelle! I didn't expect to see you here tonight. Who's your friend?"

"This is my friend Clary Morgenstern. She needs some clothes to wear to Pandemonium tonight," Iz explains.

A smile spreads over her face. "In that case, you came to the right place." She looks over to me and juts her hand out for me to shake. "Cecily Herondale. I think you know my younger brother Will." (Before I get bombarded with comments about how Cecily is younger, I KNOW. I decided to change it because Cecily and Gabriel were the only two that I didn't think of a place for so I did it.)