Not Another Fairchild *Jace Wayland Love Story* [1]

One Step Closer to the Truth

Warning: this involves violence against a minor. The act itself is not seen but the after mass is. I don't go into too much detail but the warning is for those who this chapter might be a trigger for.

A.N. I've gone through this chapter and fixed all the spelling mistakes I could find but there could still be a few more and for that, I apologise.

She was cold. The tattered remains of what once was a jacket hung off her small frame and did little to protect her from the cold night air. Her jeans were small in size but she still needed a piece of string to keep them up. Her feet were bare and scratched up though she couldn't recall why they'd be like that. Her shoulder hurt, and when she had managed to check on it, she had seen a large burn that had begun to blister.

She was scared. For the life of her, she couldn't remember what had happened leading up to her wondering the dark, almost deserted streets. She got little flashes here and there but they were gone before she could grasp them and she was left feeling slightly dizzy and out of place. Something bad had happened. She knew it, she just couldn't remember it. She couldn't remember much of anything really.

Bony fingers slipped from the sleeves of her jacket and she gently pulled it around her more. She was careful, not wanting to tug too hard and have the jacket fall to pieces in the condition it was in.

She was in pain. Everything hurt. She had spied her reflection in a passing store window and had flinched away from the image. A busted lip, rapidly bruising cheek, and bruising around her neck was the most visible. Her knuckles were bruised and bloody and so were her nails. Even as she walked, she could feel the movements aggravating more injuries but she had grown numb to it. Or, perhaps, she was just too cold to feel them as much as she probably should have.

Very few people were out that night. Some saw her and paused for a moment, their mouths opening like they wanted to say something before they shook their head and continued on their way. She paid them no mind.

The longer she walked the more tired she could feel her body growing. Her stomach had stopped growling a short while ago, giving way to a near constant ache as her body screamed at her for rest and nourishment. She kept walking.

She was running from something but she couldn't remember what it was she was running from. It was bad; she remembered that much. It was the reason she was in so much pain. Her heart picked up its slow pace and her scrapped palms grew sweaty. Whatever she was running from scared the hell out of her.

"Hey."

The deep, masculine voice barely registered in her mind as she continued to walk. Her body struggled with each step it took but she refused to give up. Giving up was a weakness she refused to cave into. She shook her head, not knowing where that thought had come from and why her shoulder twinged when she thought about it.

"Hey," the voice sounded again, a hand coming to rest gently on her shoulder.

The simple action hadn't been malicious but some instinct kicked in. It didn't help that it just so happened to be the shoulder housing the burns. She screamed loudly, the action tearing at her throat and making her scream cut off abruptly as her body shook with coughs. She tried to scramble away from the owner of the hand but only succeeded in tripping and falling onto the road.

A horn blared loudly as two light rapidly approached her prone figure. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to rest. Two large hands grabbed her under the arms and hoisted her out of the path of the incoming taxi as it continued to drive on with an angry honk.