out of reach//TMI

Chapter Thirty Three: You've Got To Be Kidding Me

HI EVERYONE IM SO SORRY I HAVENT UPDATED FOR LIKE 2 WEEKS. Usually I update once a week but last week I was wayyy too stressed and I ended up barely writing like 1000 words by the end of the weekend. Another thing-once I finish writing all this Im probably going back to the beginning and editing some stuff bc the beginning of this kinda really sucked. Anyway enjoy this, I might update again very soon:)

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Clary's POV

I played with my hands nervously as I heard whispered voices outside of my door.

Jace had seen me kissing Damian. So what, I thought, after all he was basically a stranger, and awkward things like this can happen sometimes. But somehow, it unsettled me more than that.

I decided not to pry into the boys' business, though I heard weird thuds on the wall between their talking. All of the sudden both of them were gone.

I thought back to what just happened. Damian's angel wings, the lustful expression in his eyes, the abrupt appearance of Jace.

My mind especially focused on Jace. 

I remembered my attempted drawing of him, and my fingers suddenly itched to get my hands on it. Before I knew it, I was lifting my mattress and reaching to get out my sketchbook.

I flipped to the page with the golden boy, the spectrum of colors popping out at me. Still, I thought to myself, you can't seem to capture something about him.

I couldn't decide whether his eyes had even more gold in them, whether the curve of his biceps was as big as I'd drawn it, or the sarcastic set of his lips held more emotion than I'd seen. I shut the book, shaking my head.

He was the most beautiful boy I've ever seen, to be truthful. Maybe people like that weren't meant to be captured on paper.

Jace's POV

I stormed back to my room in a blind jealousy and with the horrible feeling that I had nothing left to do but sit back and watch Clary trust Damian, maybe even love him.

I sat down at a desk near the bookshelf after taking several deep breaths, and pulled a piece of paper from a drawer. I decided if Clary wouldn't remember me now, there would eventually be a time when she would, even if I was half-demon or dead.

I wrote down explanations, the way I've been feeling and how much I missed the real her, the one who knew who I was. It seemed stupid at first, after all, I had to have hope that we'd get out of this. But a nagging feeling at the pit of my stomach reminded me that not all stories had happy endings.

The mess I wrote down transformed into a letter to Clary. It ended up being about a page long, and reading through it I realized how gloomy and hopeless I sounded. That's how I knew that it clearly showed my feelings.

I stowed away the paper into the desk's drawer, and leaned forward onto my elbows, putting my head between my hands. 

Taking a deep breath, I thought, is there even a way out of this? 

All my years of training and fighting yet I couldn't think of a way of getting out without hurting Clary or myself, or anyone else I care about for that matter.

I thought back to the words of the demon at Taki's. One will be chosen to enter, and one will be chosen to exit. If only one of us could leave this place alive--or half alive--I had to make sure it would be Clary, whether or not it was really her or still in the control of Lilith.