“You’re mine Clary, don’t you get it by now?" Sebastian yelled, his rage boiling over like an erupting volcano. "Screw Jace – not like you need encouragement – just give in and accept that we’re meant for each other! Forget about Jace!” Clary screamed as she felt her rune activate, and memories in the back of her mind were burned away. Memories of a boy with bright golden eyes.

"What the hell?" I took a step closer to the mirror, staring at my reflection in disbelief. The person looking back was still me, but at the same time it wasn't. I had the same thick, dark, curly hair. The same hazel eyes. The same olive skin with a light dusting of freckles (ugh) scattered across the bridge of my nose. But my curls were now streaked with highlights. And not the subtle, golden-brown ones that sometimes appeared during the summer. No, these were an aggressive, dazzling blond that went from the roots of my hair all the way to the tips. It looked like I had spent a full day getting my hair done in some upscale salon. Never mind that I had never set foot in such a place since the day I was born. My eyes appeared somehow wider and more luminous. The colour brighter, my eyelashes darker up against them. And, when I looked closely, my pupils seemed to be slitted almost like a cat. I looked down at my body. My skinny arms-which had always refused to gain any definition no matter how hard I exercised-were lined with flat, wiry muscles. My bony shoulders were now curved and smooth. My scrawny legs were toned like a dancer. I reached down and lifted my shirt, revealing two subtle lines running vertically down my perfectly flat stomach, hinting at the rock-hard abs underneath. My whole body was rippling with strength. Like liquid steel.

WATTY AWARD WINNER OF 2015 - #JustWriteIt Challenge ✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾ The hero of her dreams was too bad to be true. ✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾✾ Villain Academy; where all the psychotic teenagers are trained to be the world's best villains. Try being the baddest of them all when the Puberty Truck is smacking you in the face--repeatedly. It's a hard time for young, attractive villains who haven't reached eighteen. And you'd think they already have enough to deal with when their worst urban legend fear appears: The Hero. So isolating evil-minded, puberty-hitting, aggressive teenagers into a confined brick building may not be the most intelligent choice of mankind. It was inevitable for there to be one hell of a problem. And that problem was me.