FAGE Six Pack

Title: The Beast

Written for: Claire Bloom

Written By: Readingmama/Vampiremama

Rating: T

Summary/Prompt used: Mortal Instruments in a Beauty and the Beast situation

When a selfish little girl has her world changed, can she learn to love and be loved in return? Will the beautiful boy who is never quite understood be able to crack the beast's shell? If a jealous popular girl has her way, the boy will be hers.

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Prologue:

Young Clary Fray's red pigtails bounced as she pulled her hand from her mother's and bounded off toward the playground. From behind she was perfect, her hair bright and her little frame dressed in an outfit that belonged in a fairytale. It was only when one was face to face with her that they realized the beauty was only skin deep. Her face almost permanently twisted in a scowl, marring her sweet features.

"Give me that, I want it!" she screamed as she tore the shovel out of the younger child's hands.

"That's mine," the little boy responded, "but you can play with this." He offered her a bucket while reaching back for the shovel.

"No! I want the shovel," she demanded. The little boy changed his tactic and began to cry.

"Oh dear," Jocelyn, her mother, sighed as she made her way in to break up the fight. "Clary, honey, come here."

"Mom," she screamed again as if her backup had arrived. The other child was red in the face as he screamed for his plaything back, trying to wrestle it out of Clary's hand. "I want it!"

"That's not yours," Jocelyn explained softly.

Clary, realizing that her backup was not in fact backup, let go of the shovel and sent the other child tumbling furiously backwards into the sand. The little redhead's face scrunched up and Jocelyn glanced around, already seeing other mothers giving her that look she was so used to: judgment, disapproval, condemnation.

It wasn't that she hadn't tried to discipline her child; it just seemed that no matter what she tried, nothing worked. She had read hundreds of self-help books, and none of them seemed to give her any insight on how to handle her troubled six year old.

She blamed herself, always calling her beautiful and telling her she could do no wrong. Jocelyn thought she was building self-esteem, but what she ended up building was a tiny monster. Everyone gave Clary whatever she wanted because she was so cute, and when they didn't, they gave it to her because of the disturbance she caused. By the time the pattern had been recognized, it was far too late.

Before Clary could let out the blood-curdling scream that Jocelyn was accustomed to, Jocelyn whispered, "Come, sweetie, Mommy will go buy you your own shovel."

"I want a bigger one than his," Clary demanded, turning and pointing her finger at the little dark-haired boy who had scuttled off, keeping a wary but knowing eye on Clary.

"Sure, baby," she said. She took Clary's hand and began to lead her out of the park area, trying to ignore the snide and hurtful comments coming from the other mothers.

They took a step out of the sand and onto the concrete, neither mother nor daughter prepared for what was to come. The moment happened in both slow motion and lightning speed. The boy ran up behind Clary, and with both hands, shoved her hard.

"You're evil," he cried out, and as Clary lurched forward, her mother lost her grip on her hand and she landed face first on the concrete. "Learn to be nicer." The boy, pleased with himself, trotted back to his mother, who scooped him up and left the park without a backward glance. In fact, none of the other mothers even came over to see if Clary was okay.

She was not.

The pretty little girl rode in the ambulance to the hospital, the doctors stitched and mended, but the pretty little girl was no longer pretty. Her outsides matched her insides, and as she woke up and saw the horror in her mother's face, she wondered, who could ever learn to love a beast?