My Love

Sorta, Kinda, Homecoming

A/N: in this chapter, Alex refers to black, ex; the blackness swallows me whole. This is not, and i repeat THIS IS NOT ALEC BEING RACIST. Alec is referring to a colour, not a race, not a skin tone, he is just referring to a colour. I just wanted to make this clear, just in case someone is sensitive to that and i didn't want anyone to interpret that wrong. Love you Captain Nemos', enjoy the story.

Alec POV

Black seemed to be the most convenient color. It expressed the pain that you didn't want to talk about. It showed heartache, self-hatred, pain, divorce....

Oh yeah. Your parents are getting divorce. My brain whispered to me.

My mom had enough of Robert's bullshit and yelled that they were getting a divorce.

It wasn't like I hadn't seen it coming. We all had, even Max. I was rarely at the Institute anymore, we didn't have any demon attacks to occupy us.

Then there was Robert. Every time he saw me he'd take the chance to ridicule me. Whether it was about my lack of training or to tell me that I wasn't good enough. Or that they would never approve my marriage. He'd tell me that I was ugly and that Magnus was using me.

I could barely sleep without being drunk because his words echoed in my head everytime I closed my eyes. When I fell asleep and wasn't drunk Isabelle would wake me and say I was having a nightmare. She'd always ask what it was about and I'd just say Magnus. And then she would get that I didn't want to talk about it.

I don't know what she thought. Maybe she thought that I had seen him die or something of that sort. Most of the time it was something like that. He would die, or let me die. Others he wouldn't be at the alter and then my father would walk in and then throw his dead body at me. Or it would just be my father taunting me.

I had become as closed off as before I had met my beautiful Warlock. I was mostly quiet and I rarely ate. I rarely got out of bed. And barely cared about my diminishing figure. There were ugly bags under my eyes and I was much too pale.

I might've even done something about it if i cared.

But I don't.

At random times my father would call me up and I'd leave the room if my siblings, or mother as she had been around these parts to worry about, were with me. He'd scream and yell at me. Call me every nasty name he could think of. And then hang up. I'd spend a few minutes crying in self-pity and drink myself unconscious.

Jace would pass worried glances my way and I'd answer them with a half-hearted smile. He'd often try to get me to talk with him in our heads but I'd block him out.

I was depressed and i was being to accept the fact that everything my father said about me was true. I am ugly, I am stupid, unworthy. I should probably go die somewhere but even if I did people wouldn't look for my corpse.

"Alexander Gideon Lightwood just stop it!" Jace yelled. I looked up at him with a blank expression.

"Jace, Alec isn't doing anything. There is no reason to yell" Mom said, coming to my defense at Jace's sudden outburst.

"Mom, no you don't hear what I hear" he said, stressed.

"Clearly not because Alec hasn't said anything" she replied.

"Alec was thinking about suicide" Jace blurted out.

"WHAT?!" Everyone in the room shout, with the exception of Jace and I. Isabelle, Mom, Clary and Simon all stared at me.

I ignored their looks and went to grab a bottle of vodka. I could feel their eyes on me but I did nothing about it, as if I didn't know. I grabbed two tablets of aspirin, as i could feel the headache already forming, and swallowed down with a mouthful of vodka.