I Remember You, do You Remember Me?

Too Little, Too Late

Isabelle called out, "Simon! Simon, wait!"

He turned to her, smiling. Suddenly, the smile vanished, and he started running again, away from her.

No! She tried to shout, but no sound came out. Whatever was in there couldn't be good.

He raced down the narrow passage way, a result of all the shadowhunter training, and seemed to get further and further away with each step Isabelle took.

She ran like never before; in any other situation she would be ecstatic at this new record. The harsh thud thud was the only sound Isabelle could hear, and she tried to concentrate on it. It's okay, she told herself. Simon's okay, he'll stop. He's not stupid.

A loud, horrible wail cut through her thoughts, and Simon, seemingly urgent, increased his speed. Dark shadows were nearing.

Simon suddenly came to a stop, the end of the passageway. Isabelle screamed his name, over and over, but he didn't respond.

After what seemed like hours of running, she finally reached the end. Isabelle heard a soft, almost undetectable moan.

She looked down at Simon, lying bloody and limp at her feet. A harsh laugh cut through the air. Asmodeus.

She knelt down, taking Simon in her arms, ready to apply multiple iratzes, but there was a long, jagged cut through his chest.

"No," Isabelle cried urgently. "No!", but it was too little, too late. All was lost.

~~~~

The screaming was the only detectable sound as Isabelle woke. With a jolt, she realized it was her own. No, no, no!

But she was in the institute, tangled, sweaty, blankets around her legs.

She staggered to the bathroom, relishing the jolt of reality the ice cold water gave her when she dunked her head under the tap.

Shaking violently and uncontrollably, Isabelle lay back down on her bed, pushing her headphones in and setting her iPod on shuffle, but nothing could quite rid her of the sickly dread in her stomach the dream had put there.