The Mortal Instruments: City of Past Ghosts (Book 1)

Chapter 22: The Burden of Truth

Chapter 22: The Burden of Truth

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Clary stared at the journal which sat on her lap, patiently waiting to be opened.

It was almost noon now and Magnus had finally finished recovering the kitchen. For the last hour, she had stared at the journal, not opening it—just staring at it.

At first she had been eager to read what was written in the journal but as she sat down, Clary found herself afraid of what she would find in the journal.

She sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest, trapping the book in between her legs and chest. She gently balanced the book on her knees and leaned her forehead on the book.

"Ugghhh." Clary groaned. She somehow couldn't muster up the guts to open the journal and read whatever was in it.

Just read it. Shut up and read it, her subconscious growled at her, facepalming her subconscious self.

"You know, that isn't classified as reading." a voice said suddenly.

Clary looked up and saw Magnus lounging in the couch across her, his glitterized hair mussed and messy. She sighed.

"Can't you just tell me what you read?" she said, her voice hopeless.

"You should read it. There are some personal things in there." he said, arching an eyebrow.

"Yet you read it," she sighed.

She fished around in her newly changed jeans (it had gotten a little chilly for shorts) and found the folded picture she had taken from her old house.

She unfolded the picture and stared at it. It was one of the only pictures she had of them together—her mother, Keayla, had never been a fan of framing photos.

It was a simple photo of them sitting in Hyde Park, taken by a helpful passerby. There was nothing special about the picture. It hadn't been a special day or a celebration. But it was just a very normal not normal day at the park. Keayla had never dragged Clary outside for no reason so her dragging Clary to the park on a normal day was such an unusual thing to do.

They sat on a park bench, the sky behind them graying, a sign of rain. Clary was smiling like how all people should smile in pictures but Keayla was only half smiling, her eyes sharp and bored.

Yeah...that's mom, she sighed mentally.

"Clary," Magnus said, getting up. His voice was alarmed as he strode over to her.

"What?" she said, alarmed as well.

Magnus took the photo in her hands and flipped it over. She stared at the the back of the photo which was filled with words written in familiar spidery cramped cursive handwriting.

"Oh my God," Clary breathed. She ran a finger across the writing.

She read the neat writing and felt tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill.

Clary,

I'm sorry. If you're reading this, you probably already found out you're not who you are. You wouldn't be able to see through this glamour if you didn't. And it probably also means I'm dead. Lovely.

Clary laughed quietly at her mother's depressing humor.

I wish I could explain further in person but I cant. I'm dead. But I have left something that may explain better. I have hidden some of my old journals around in my room. They should explain why I did what I did. I was never meant to care for you. Just look after. You were never mine to love and I didn't have the right to. But what can I say? I'm weak. And you were too lovable to say no to.