Sizzling in the Flames

The reflection of the bright, full moon rippled across the lake's surface. Izzy scooped up a handful of the cool sand that shifted beneath her, and watched as she let it slowly trickle from her hand. She sat back against Simon's hard chest, and she could feel his hot breath on her neck.

Simon. It had been weeks since he had recovered his memory completely and drank from the mortal cup, making him a shadowhunter, but there was one thing he still hadn't recovered: his feelings for her. Sure, he said he still loved her and the others acted like he was back to normal, but Izzy felt the change. It was the little things: the way he spoke to her, the way he acted around her- even the way he kissed her. It was different; like they had lost their spark.

The day Simon offered his memories in exchange for their freedom, something had broken inside her. After losing Max, and then Simon, she had almost given up. She remembered the vile of demon poison she had bought from a warlock in Idris a few days after Simon had lost his memory. She remembered unscrewing the lid and swirling the mixture around, contemplating what death would feel like. At least she would see Max again. And, when Simon died his mortal death, she would see him too. But in the end, she had been too scared to drink the poison, and had sealed the vile once more before locking it away in one of her drawers. She kept it there, just in case.

She didn't tell anyone about her almost suicide. She put on a smile when the others were around, and they were too busy living their perfect lives to see past her facade.

Simon shifted beneath her, then leaned close to murmur in her ear, "I love you." But this wasn't her Simon. And he didn't love her. Her Simon, as far as she was concerned, was gone the second Magnus' father had wiped his memories. The boy sitting next to her was a fake. An impostor.

But she didn't let him, or anyone, notice her observations. She kept on pretending; pretending she was in love with him and everything was okay.

But it wasn't okay. That hole inside her continued to grow larger and deeper, until in consumed her completely. The grief slowly turned anger, until she was filled with pent-up resentment. Resentment towards everyone who got what they wanted, who acted like nothing was wrong, who got to be with the ones they loved. Resentment towards the ones that had what she so desperately wanted.

Isabelle wiggled out of Simon's embrace and stood, brushing sand off of her blood-red dress. She was tired of living in agony while everyone else was content. She wanted them to feel the pain she felt. She wanted them to suffer like she suffered. She wanted to wreak havoc on the world. The wind tossed her midnight hair around her face, and it blended in with the night sky.

"Erchomai," she thought. "I am coming."