Mixed [Shadowhunters]

Prologue

I had always known I was different.

Mom always told me I was special. Of course, after telling me the only place I could use my... Gifts were at home or with my tutor.

Mom was always worried. Worried that someone was going to find out. Someone was going to report me. Or take me away.

At first, I was too young to understand her concerns. My world, our world was not meant for everyone. Humans, mundanes couldn't understand what was different from them. And by not understanding, this brought a fear, a fear that led them to retaliate against us. Against the Shadow World. We were different but we weren't as different. Not all of us, at least.

Little me didn't understand this. I thought my friend was special too. I could see it sometimes. The way she'd stare upon the pixies that would surround us, the mundanes oblivious to their presence except for me, and apparently Clary.

It was what brought me the first time when I was five and Clary seven to show her my eyes. Mom could never hide the way they made her flinch sometimes when they appeared whenever my temper skyrocketed. But, naive little me thought special people could trust each other with how special they were.

Our moms didn't agree. It would take me another eight years to understand why Jocelyn Fray was so angry and scared, why she yelled at my mom about me.

It took mom telling me that Clay's mom didn't want her to be special for me to understand.

Not all special people accepted their own.

My interactions with Clary became minimum after that. Even now, I don't know how Clary seemed to forget she had ever seen my eyes or how she'd suddenly become oblivious to the beautiful world that surrounded us. All I know was that her mom had something to do with that and I wasn't sure if I liked it. Clary was special and her mom was taking that away from her.

My friendship with Clary and later on Simon who I found rather dorky and adorable, who was insufferably in love with Clary turned casual and strained. I was told that whenever Clary seemed to become sharper to her surroundings, past the glamours that I had to tell them. I reluctantly did but everytime I told them, by the next time I saw her, Clary was unaware of the reality of the world. I hated it. I felt bad. I wanted a friend to trust my secrets with, no matter if she was older. I wanted to trust her. But, her mom was always there as a wall.

I was fourteen when I decided best to cut off our friendship. It hurt me being unable to tell her the truth, how her mom stopped her from being who she really was.

I was sixteen when I realized the truth.

I was sixteen when I realized my own mixed truth.