AN/

Sup guys. Just wanna say, I'm back t school, (no more midterm) so I will probably be slow updating. Anyway, I love reviews and would really value some constructive criticism. Anyway, I think this might be bordering M, but it's just more implied. Anyway, trigger warning **abuse, & implied rape**

Chapter 3

"WHAT THE HELL SORT OF TIME DO YOU CALL THIS?" Sebastian screamed as soon as she stepped a foot through the door.
"I put up with you going out, I put up with so much from you Clarissa! But this? Coming home at 3am, running away as soon as you see me!?
Clary stood frozen to her spot. She couldn't meet his eyes. She didn't dare defy him more. Sebastian exploded.

"EXPLAIN YOURSELF! For ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, CAN YOU STOP BEING SO SELFISH! YOU'RE A FUCKING BRAT! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? YOU BELONG TO ME! YOU ARE MY SISTER! MINE! THEY TRIED TO KEEP YOU FROM ME BUT YOU ARE MY SISTER! YOU BELONG TO ME!" His face was bright red, and he was livid. Clary started shaking. He was practically frothing at the mouth.

"I'm sorry…" she mumbled, her breathing heavy.

"SORRY?!" Sebastian spat. He stepped forward, and Clary felt the sharp sting of his hand colliding with the side of her head, by her right ear. She fell to her knees, and onto her side. She felt a hard kick to her shin, as Sebastian continued.

"SORRY? YOU'RE SORRY? YOU GO SLUTTING AROUND, OUT AT ALL HOURS WITHOUT A WORD?" He landed a blow to her ribs. " YOU COME HOME AND WHAT? SORRY DOESN'T CUT IT!" He stamped down, hard, on her wrist. She whimpered in pain. "YOU DO AS I SAY CLARISSA! ME! YOU ARE MINE! YOU BELONG TO ME!"

And then the shouting stopped. Too suddenly. Sebastian's eyes darkened dangerously.

He kneeled down beside her, straddling her hips. He held her wrists down to the floor, either side of her head. Clary shook, but dared not breathe. His breathing was heavy, as hot in her face, as he bent down and whispered in her ear,

"You are a Morgenstern, just like me. You are my sister." He ran his hand, the tips of his fingers gently, down her side, slowly. She sucked in a breath when he stopped. His hand rested on her thigh, rubbing it.

"You know in the bible," he murmured against her ear, "The song of Solomon. 'Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck.'" He paused.
"The brothers and Sisters, the princes and darling princesses… they used to marry, to keep the royal bloodlines pure." Clary was trembling at this point.
"You're out of you're mind!" she spat.

Sebastian sighed, "Oh Clary, Clary, Clary…" He continued to explore her body, peppering barely there kisses against her neck. He held her firmly as she squirmed beneath him, attempting to pull away from his touch. He ignored her and held her firmly down. His fingers slid along the waistband of her jeans.

"I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love." He began to tug at his belt, and Clary struggled against him. It was pointless though, as he had her pinned to the ground. The cold tiles on the floor. She ached all over. He fumbled with the buttons of her jeans, rubbing the inside of her thighs. She shivered, and turned her head, blinking away the tears in her eyes, trying to forget the pain, to block out everything that was happening. An impossible feat. But a common one in her secret life.

...

Clary ached all over as she lay, in her bed. The previous night flashed in her mind. She shivered, despite the 'safety' of her room. The memories blended together, one dark ball that she tried to block from her mind. But they persisted, knawing at her. The roaring pain, a fire burning through her. Being… violated. She had dragged herself up the stairs after Sebastian had left her unceremoniously on the dirty, cold, tiled floor. She had sat in the shower, as the burning water sprayed over her. She had sobbed her heart out, as she scrubbed her skin raw. She had watched the faintly pink water trickle down the drain, tinged with her blood. She watched as it ran red, as she dragged the sharp blade across her skin, adding to the scars on her wrists, her hips.

She lay in her bed, half dressed. Exhaustion pulled at her, drawing her back to the comforts of unconsciousness. But she knew that wasn't an option. She groggily made her way over to the mirror. Around her cheekbone was a dark bruise, pink on the outside, a darker purple towards the middle. Her lip was cut. She sighed, pulling out her dresser draw and reaching for her concealer. She patted it roughly onto the bruise, sick of the same messed up routine every morning.. She felt the anger and strength slowly creep back into her. What did she ever do to deserve this? It was sick. She grabbed the pink cushion off the chair beside her and threw it across the room with all her strength. She sucked in a sharp breath, a silent sob, and collapsed onto her mattress, trying not to let the tears spill. Curled up in a tight ball, she lay there, as silent sobs racked her body. She didn't make any attempt to move, and eventually just lay, still and silent and tears rolled down her cheeks.

Some time later, she wasn't sure how long, she sat up. She stumbled over to the bathroom. If it was possible, she would say she looked even worse. She perched on the edge of the bath, and wiped the tears from her eyes.

That's where she sat numbly, before standing up again to asses the damage done to her face last night. She pulled up her shirt, and examined the large, dark blue bruise on her side. She pulled down her shirt. She focused on her lip. Crying ahd made it appear irritated. She dapped at it softly, and rinsed it. Then, she took out a small container of concealer with a slight green tint to draw away the redness. It wasn't exactly a popular type, so it was a hard product to find. It was precious to her though. It didn't take her long to become an expert concealer. Green drew away the redness, yellowish ones helped with blue bruises ect.

Afterwards, she patted on some loose cosmetic powder and reapplied the concealer to her cheek. She chose a green t-shirt with a black leather jacket, along with some normal jeans. Then, added her ring, hanging from a piece of string. Fiddling with it in her fingers, she stood in front of the mirror. It had been a gift from her mother. The last gift from her mother. Back when things were good.

...

"Happy birthday Clare-bear," she heard. Clary sat up instantly. Her mother gently pushed open the door. Clary smile stretched from ear to ear.

"It's my birthday!" she called out excitedly, carefully eyeing the small box tucked under Jocelyn's arm.

Her mother sat down on the edge of the bed, perched beside Clary.

"So," she smiled, "How does it feel to be eight years old?" Clary shrugged slightly.

Jocelyn laughed. "When did the time go? You're getting so big! But you're still my little princess aren't you?"

Clary giggled. "What's in the box?"

"Well," Jocelyn began, "You've gotten so big, and I think you're old enough to be trusted to be careful now, don't you?" She paused for a second before continuing. "This belonged to me when I was a little girl. Before that it belonged to my mother. And her mother before that. And now, it belongs to you." And with that, her mother open the box, and carefully pulled out a silver ring. Clary reached out and took it in her hand. She examined it cautiously. Carved onto the top was a letter "f" in the middle of a pair of fairy wings. Jocelyn watched Clary carefully as she slipped it on and off her finger.

"Thankyou," she whispered quietly, staring in awe at the small piece of jewelry. Her mother smiled.

Come on, let's go down to breakfast." Clary held the ring tight in her small fist as she followed her mother down the stairs.

..

"Clarissa! Happy birthday, baby girl!" Valentine smiled.

"Hi daddy!" Clary giggled.

Her father smiled. "Come over here!" Clary ran over to him and he picked her up twirling her around in the air. She stumbled dizzily when he placed her down. He smiled at her.

He reached behind him and pulled out a small, blue box, similar to the one her mother had just shown her. She giggled. Valentine smiled again.

"Yes, it is a birthday present," she answered to the question Clary had not yet spoken.

Her father continued.

"Because you're such a big girl now, I think I can trust you enough to give you this." He opened the box, and Clary saw a ring. It was slightly larger than her mother's - which rested safely in her tightly closed fist - and had a different picture. Instead of fairy wings, there was a star carved into the side, and a "m" replaced the "f" on the top. Valentine watched Clary carefully, as she picked it up. He carried on explaining.

"This is a Morgenstern Family ring. It's very special. You see that star? Well, did you know that Morgenstern actually means morning star. That," he paused, pointing at the carving, "Is the morning star. So, look after this ring very well, okay?" Clary smiled and hugged Valentine politely.

"Thankyou," she whispered. She looked at her mother, who was frowning at Valentine. Clary decided not to mention her mother's ring to Valentine.

"Come on, Clare-Bear, pancakes!" her brother called from the next room. Clary skipped out to the kitchen, blissfully ignorant. She didn't see the look her mother shared with her father. She did not notice the rift that had just shown itself for the first time, through her family. A rift that would fracture, and cause the collapse of her happy life. That would end her childhood. That would take her mother.

...

Clary sighed. She was running out of time. She crept down stairs slowly, but saw no sign that Sebastian was around. She printed downstairs at light-footed as she could, and grabbed an apple. She wasn't really hungry for much. She headed back upstairs to her room. It was almost time for her to leave for school. Quickly gathering her things off her desk and shoving them into her bag. Checking herself in the mirror one last time, she sprinted downstairs and out the door. It was going to be a long day.

REVIEW? Try: Find one thing I could do better when writing.