The day that would reshape Clary's world had started off really, really well. She distinctly remembered that. The sun had been shining, she and Jace had been laughing, everything had been great. For twenty-three hours of the worst day of her life, nothing had gone even a little bit wrong. She'd woken up with Jace; they'd cooked breakfast together. Isabelle had called, they had had twenty minutes of girl talk. She and Jace had marathoned movie franchises. The Bourne Identity, Mission Impossible, Men in Black.

At 10:38 Jace ran over to his house to grab clothes for the morning.

At 10:39 his parents said they needed to talk to him

At 10:44 Clary decided to take trash out.

At 10:45 she came face to face with Valnetine.

At 10:47 pm on October 17th, Sebastian's brother shattered Clary's whole world.

At 11:10 Jace saw a tall man with white hair run away from Clary's house.

And at 11:14 Jace found her sobbing in the shower.

It happened like this.

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"Are you sure your parents don't want you to come home tonight, babe?" Clary asked Jace from her position on the couch, leant into his chest. Neither were really paying attention to the movie at this point, long since abandoning it in favor of easy conversation.

"I have quite a bit of freedom, Ris." He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "If they mind, though," he said of Robert and Maryse, "they'll tell me. I do, however have to go grab some clothes to wear in the morning." He kissed her shoulder sliding out from behind her. Instantly she missed his warmth. He paused. "What was Valentine in jail for?" He asked. His voice was absent, but she knew that was intentional—he didn't want to seem freaked out.

"He…likes his girls the wrong side of legal. And he doesn't like the word no." She chose her words delicately and deliberately. Knowing how much this knowledge would freak Jace out, she tried to avoid his charge, but Jace wasn't having it.

"You mean sexual assault." His jaw jumped and his tone was incredibly tight. "Maybe you should come with me." He said, now thoroughly freaked out. Jace honestly wasn't sure he could handle Clary getting hurt, especially like that. She was the best thing in his life and the idea that someone could ever seek to take revenge on Clary, to hurt Clary, was unfathomable and unacceptable.

"It's a stone's throw away, Jace." She smiled at him, "I'll be fine."

He looked at her, unwilling to agree. "Go." She insisted.

"Okay," he said hesitantly. "I'll be right back." His eyes softened as he kissed her head.

"Hurry it up!" She teasingly called at his back, earning a 'yeah, yeah' from Jace.

She sighed as the door closed shut behind him. She was far more nervous than she was letting on. Sebastian had seemed truly frightened of what Valentine might do and if Sebastian thought something was to be feared, he was almost always right.

Who wouldn't be freaked out by the knowledge that a criminal was out for their blood to get unneeded vengeance in some twisted plot to regain Sebastian's brotherly love?

Worse still Clary hadn't just known what he was in prison for. She'd known the girl, too. She, Maia and Sebastian had all been friends. After the trial, though, the Roberts family moved. If anyone else had connected the events they didn't mention it and neither had Seb or Clary. In any right, it was unlikely anyone had fingered Maia as the victim in Valentine's case as the shield laws had, for once ever, done their job. Figuring Jace should be back soon, Clary decided to pick up their two-day mess so that when Jace returned they could just go to bed. She pushed her hair back out of her face, grabbing soda cans and tossing them into the garbage bag she held. Upon filling two she decided to take them to the trash and from there call it a night. The trashes were literally just outside the door. She could open the door, take one step open the dumpster lid and drop the bags. That was a maximum of ten seconds, no more than two steps from the safety of her house.

She turned on her porch light. It was such a small thing, of course, and didn't matter over much, but for some reason having a light made her feel more comfortable. She opened the front door and looked left, right, and ahead before darting out. She tossed the bags and closed the dumpster lids. Having met with success, Clary spun back towards the door and literally bumped chests with the person she was afraid was coming to find her. Valentine.

Clary was normally one to stand her ground but she instantly stepped backwards from him, unthinkingly trapping herself against the dumpsters.

Her mind raced but she remained frozen. Yell for Jace, She told her unresponsive body, trying to force her mouth to move, her vocal chords to strain, to make some kind of noise. Nothing came. She took a step sideways, contemplating whether she could dart past him or not. Her thoughts were invaded by a shnick and her breath caught. He had a knife. He caught her off guard by quickly walking up to her and clapping a hand over her mouth, placing the knife on her neck. "I expect silence." He informed her calmly. "Is that understood?"

She nodded.

He backhanded her. It was disorienting but not enough to knock her off her feet. "You broke my little brother's heart, you know." He hit her again, hard enough now she fell to the ground. He got down, trapping her there. He placed his hand over her mouth again, straddled her body so she could not move and then grinned at her, flashing the knife.

He's an honest to god psychopath, Clary thought, and he's going to kill me.

Wasn't Jace supposed to be back soon? She thought desperately.

"Maybe a little reminder for you?" He spoke as if to himself, tracing her stomach with the knife. "Right here?" He cut her stomach a little, just enough to see a bit of blood. "Haven't the time. Only gave myself fifteen minutes. Damn shame." Frighteningly, he sounded as if he genuinely thought so.

She closed her eyes against the feeling of the knife pressing against her neck forcing herself to keep them shut. She did not want to see.

In one second there was only the darkness, in the next it was accompanied by pain. She knew everything hurt worse—the blows, the bites, the…well everything—because she couldn't see, but if she opened her eyes, if she looked at him it would be one more thing she'd never forget. She could at least not watch this happen. Then he took that from her, too, tilting the knife so that if he dragged it, it would mean slitting her throat. And he demanded she open her eyes.

It nearly killed her to do so, but she knew he would have killed her had she not. Giving up her last form of refuge she looked at him, refusing the let the tears fall.

Then it was over, and he took off at a jog.

Clary dragged herself up, trudged up her steps, dropped her clothes to be burnt and got in the shower, tears overflowing at last.

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A flash of white hair passing the window caught Jace's eye and he turned his head in time to see a man running. "Clary!"

He left his parents mid-conversation, still in the middle of their awkward, unnecessary 'be safe' spiel. He stood at the door for a half a second—go after the man or go to Clary—before taking off, running hell-for-leather to Clary's house, through the door and up the stairs to where her sobs could be heard.

"Rissa?" He knocked, "I'm coming in, Rissa, alright?"

No response. He opened the door. "It's me, Rissa." Jace said terrified of what he was surely about to see, "It's Jace, Ris, alright it's just me." He opened the shower curtain.

"I can't get the feeling of him off me." She whimpered. "I'm never going to get it off." Discarded on the shower floor was a washcloth, a loofah and a sponge and Jace reached out to take the piece of steel wool she had been holding onto. Her skin looked as if she'd had a chance to try it. She was bright red, and actually bleeding from some places. Without warning she collapsed, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I'll never be clean again, Jace." She lamented. He reached in again, this time to shut off the water and hissed when the water made contact with his skin. It was so hot it hurt and probably contributed to her temporary skin-tone. The water was definitely well over a hundred degrees.

Carefully, he helped her out of the tub and wrapped her in a towel, grabbing another off the rack for her hair. "Come with me, baby. Let's get you dressed, okay?" His words were gentle and he was certain if she were herself right now she'd be angry at his tone—one that suggested that he was talking to a feral dog, hoping to coax it without agitating it into fight or flight mode.

Which was not unlike what he was doing.

He handed her the towel for her hair and she put her hair up with it allowing it to dry. "Do you want me to leave while you get dressed?" He asked in a careful tone.

"No!" She despaired. "Don't leave. You're keeping me safe. Please don't leave."

"Okay," he promised, "I won't leave."

"Okay," she accepted his word dressing swiftly in sweats and tank-top, plus his sweatshirt. She sat on the bed again, stony-faced before sobbing for the second time that night.

"Can I put my arms around you, Rissa?" He opened his mouth to ask but she had already fallen into his chest. The question hung unasked instead, his arms going around her at her own demand, rather than his request. What was he supposed to do? he wondered, as he rocked her back and forth, assuring her of his presence. How could he make this better?

"I'm here," he whispered in her ear, not sure what else to do or say. "I'm here, I've got you."

But you weren't here ten minutes ago, were you Jace? His conscience reminded him.

The sobs quieted. "Clary, do you want…"

"I want my mom." She interrupted, sounding all of six years old, even to her own ears.

"I'll call her," he told her, withdrawing his phone from his pocket. "Do you want to go to the police?" He asked. "Or the hospital?"

"I don't know," she said in a voice so tiny it couldn't have been hers. "Before I do anything else, I want my mom, so just please…"

He had already dialed Jocelyn's number and handed his phone over to Clary.

"Jace what is it?" A voice answered. "It's just gone midnight."

"Mommy."

Immediately awake, Jocelyn's voice was truly filled with panic then, "What happened?"

"Can you come home?" Clary asked.

"Of course I can, what's happening?"

"There was…Seb's brother…he came and he…and…and Mommy, I'll never be clean again, I…"

She gasped, "I'm on my way. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you? Because I can," she declared.

"No, I just want you."

"I'm on my way," the matriarch reiterated. "Let me to talk to Jace quick, before you hang up."

"How is she?" Jocelyn asked.

"Well…not good." He said quietly, looking at the girl who was lying curled up in her bed. "Or…how is she supposed to be? She's not, I don't know, comatose or anything, but she tried to scrub herself with steel wool and one hundred plus degree water so I think that kind of speaks for itself."

"I think that bit's normal actually."

"I don't know, then." He said, completely lost for answers.

"Just stay with her and keep her calm and we'll talk more when I get there."

"But should I like take her to the police station or…"

"No," Jocelyn asserted, though he assumed she was fumbling as much as he was. "You said she's already showered, so at this point there's no reason not to wait until I'm there. Given that Clary's only sixteen, they might need me to agree any way so…yeah." Not fumbling, then, he thought to himself.

"So you just want me to stay with her?" He checked, having planned to do so anyway.

"Yes." Her voice was vehement.

"Always," he swore.

"Good. Now, we'll be there within five hours, so just…."

"I got it Joc. Stay with her. I planned to, so, we're good. Drive safe."

"Be there soon."

Not soon enough, though. No one was there soon enough and no one was there when she had needed them. He hadn't been there when she'd needed him and he'd never forgive himself for it.

But he could be here now. And he would.

Tears were flowing down his own face freely and he was mad at himself. He was supposed to be being strong for Clary.

He was to be her strength.

"I've got you."