I Hate You (IN EDITING)

Chapter 20

For the next few days, Clary sat in her room, not eating, just thinking. Thinking, and thinking, and thinking some more. I love you. Those words would normally stop any girls world, make them the happiest girl alive in that moment, but all Clary felt was confused.

She couldn't wrap her head around why Jace was being the way he was, acting the way he was, and then something that could've stopped Clary's heart all together. And all the old feelings coming back weren't helping much, either. Isabelle had tried coaxing her out of the room, or into having an actual conversation-she had succeeded once, in getting Clary immersed in a conversation, but it quickly died off, and Isabelle had awkwardly left the room.

This was not the summer she imagined.

Because the summer she imagined was full of swimming, having fires, hanging out with Isabelle, Magnus and Alec-maybe even Jace every once in a while. But, no, that wasn't meant to be, apparently. Her summer was instead filled with swimming, occasional fires, confusion, anger, more confusion, sadness, Jonathan coming back from the dead, and who knows what else was going to happen? Clary didn't want to find out, if she was honest with herself.

There was knocking on the door, and Clary lifted her head from where it rested between her knees, and then dropped it again. She wasn't in the mood for human interaction. Everything was still sinking in, and she knew if she opened that door again, something devastating was going to come hurtling towards her, and knock her right back onto the hardwood, when she had only just begun to stand on her own two feet again. The knocking sounded again, bouncing off of the walls. "Go away," she croaked, her voice hoarse from not being used. "Biscuit, let me in," Magnus pleaded. "Please."

Clary shook her head, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Biscuit," Magnus said again. "You can't stay in there forever, and you have to eat something-I don't care if it's the dirt off of the floor, but you have to eat," Clary wanted to laugh, but she just couldn't make the sound come out. She felt dead. She felt like the life had been sucked out of her. It wasn't something she wanted to feel anymore, she just...didn't want to feel anymore.

"Magnus," Clary said softly. "I can't."

XXX

Jace's POV

Clary had been in her room for days. She wasn't eating, and she won't talk to anybody. He wanted to make it all better, take all her pain away...but he couldn't. She didn't trust him anymore, and he wasn't sure how to fix it.

"She's going to rot away in there," Isabelle said worriedly, twirling her hair, a habit she seemed to have picked up when she was worried or anxious. "Iz, she has to come out eventually, give her time," Alec said, reaching up to get a cup out of the cupboard. He turned on the faucet, letting the water run. "Where's Magnus?" Isabelle asked, it seemed talking was keeping her busy-keeping her mind off of Clary-so they just let her.

"He wanted to try talking to her," Jace said, running a hand through his already-tousled golden locks. He knew he had dark circles under his eyes, and messy hair. He hadn't been sleeping, that much was evident. And all of his thoughts were plagued by her, by Clary. "She won't talk to me, what makes him think she'll talk to him?" Isabelle demanded, her cheeks flushing a light pink colour. She was getting frustrated with everything that had happened thus far, everyone was. This trip wasn't supposed to be like it was, it was supposed to be fun, they were supposed to make memories...he was supposed to fix things with her. But her remembering had screwed everything up, and Jonathan coming back from the dead made things ten times worse than they had already been.

Jace slammed his fist own on the counter, angry at his own thoughts; it wasn't Clary's fault she remembered, but it was their fault for keeping it from her. It wasn't Jonathan's fault that he wanted to be in his sister's life again, but he just picked a really inconvenient time to miraculously come back from the dead. Magnus trudged down the stairs, head hanging low, eyes heavy-lidded. He looked defeated. "Let me guess," Isabelle sighed, propping her head up on her hand.