Hey guys, sorry I haven't updated in like a year. I totally forgot about this story altogether actually until yesterday when someone commented on it and told me how much they liked it, so I don't know if I'll ever write another story after this, but I figured it would be nice if I actually finished this one at least, so here is another chapter. Again, I am so sorry for the wait and rudeness I put you through.

Chapter 10: To Love is To Destroy

For weeks after Max's death, the family mourned.

Maryse spent the day wailing and sobbing in her room. Anyone who entered was destined for something to be thrown at them. No one left her room without an extra bruise. Clary was sporting a dark bruise on the side of her temple via Maryse's breakfast tray.

Robert, very unlike his wife, mourned in silence. He wouldn't eat for days on end, only sitting on his son's bed and staring at the dresser. Clary had to literally spoon feed him and coax him to eat, though she knew Robert regurgitated everything he was fed after she left the room. And his son Alec. responded to the death almost the exact same way.

Isabelle took after her mother and she cried buckets and buckets, while moping around the house. It was common to find her in strange places like the flour pantry or under Alec's bed. Clary had to force her back to her room many times because Clary kept tripping over the teenage girl.

Jace was the only one of his family members who functioned. He worked with Clary every day, helping her with chores, cooking, cleaning, anything to help her. His coping method seemed to be much different than the rest of his family's.

While Jace's helping didn't bother Clary, miserable Mayrse was always snapping at him.

"Jace! Drop that tray right now! That's the help's job, not yours!" Maryse exclaimed one day when her son brought her her midday meal.

"Why can't I help? I used to be "help" as you put it. I know how to do the job, and clearly because no one else seems to be able to do anything, it's beneficial for me to be up and about, helping Clary and the others." Maryse hmped and turned away. Jace set the tray next to her bed.

"Get out of my room. And send Clarissa in. I'd like a word with her," Mayrse said, frowning.

"Yes mother," Jace replied and he walked back out of the room. He strolled through the house, calling for Clary. Where had that redhead gone? He wondered. She wasn't in the kitchen, Max's room, or anyone else's room. She was... well... had to be outside. Jace went out to the stable to look for her and after a few minutes, found her huddled in the loft of the stable, where the men slaves stayed. She had a piece of parchment, though where she got it Jace had no clue, and a piece of charcoal in her hand. Her hand was rapidly moving around the page and her face was scrunched up in determination.

"Clary?" Jace said softly as to not disturb her. Clary jumped, but luckily did not mess up her artwork.

"Jace! You startled me!"

"Sorry," He replied. "I didn't mean to... what are you drawing?" Jace tried to look at the page, but it was tilted towards Clary and upside down so his chances of seeing without asking were low.

"I'm... drawing Max. I just don't ever want to forget his face and this was the best way I could think of to capture him. It's not very good, but I thought I would at least... I don't know," she trailed off in her sentence and Jace picked it up.

"Thought you'd at least give it a go? I'm sure it's not awful, why don't you let me see if it's recognizable." Clary sniffled and handed the parchment to Jace. "Not good?! This is amazing! How did you do this Clary?"The drawing was perfect. It was Max running through the grain fields and he had a huge grin on his face. Clary had perfected the details down to the dimple in his left cheek and the eyes sparkling with joy.

"It's not that great," Clary replied shyly. "Plus, I'm still working on it. His hands are finished yet. I did another one though, if you'd like to see it?" Jace grinned.

"Of course I would! You have such a talent Clary!" She blushed and turned around. Clary rummaged through a wooden chest which apparently held everything of value to the two men and Clary. Trousers and a dress were being moved around in the chest before Clary pulled out a handfull of paper.

One piece fluttered to the ground and Jace glanced at it before Clary could grab it. It was him! He was sitting by the fire, where he had been when she had first arrived. She had drawn the crease above his eye brow and the pain behind his eyes that he thought he had thought he had always hid.

Before he could study it any further, Clary snatched it from thed ground, blushing and not meeting Jace's eyes.

"Sorry about that," she replied. "This is the only other one I've drawn so far," Clary said and she handed Jace a page. He looked down at it and gasped. It was Max, sitting on the ground with his back pressed against a wood cabin or some sort. He had a comic in his lap and the joy in his eyes was evident.

"Clary, this is beyond amazing. I don't know how you did this, but it's amazing." He looked up at her and caught her eyes. "You have so much talent."

She looked away and red blossomed on her cheeks. "Thank you Jace. No one has ever told me that before. It's just... how I release my emotions I suppose." She took the parchment back from Jace as he handed it to her and they brushed hands.

Sparks exploded as Clary pulled her hand away rapidly. Jace just stared at where their hands had just met. Then they looked up and locked eyes. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours, but in reality had only been a few seconds.

Clary was the one who broke the connection first. "I- I can't do this. I can't make a connection like this. I just- no. No no no no no no no. Nope. No thank you." Jace's face crumbled and he took her petite hand in his large ones.

"What's wrong love?" She looked up and the look in her eyes almost shattered his heart.

"I don't know how to love anyone. It's not in my nature." Jace froze.

"What do you mean?" Clary sighed and tried to pull her hands away, but Jace held on even tighter.

"My father and mother met in America and for some unknown reason, moved to the coast of Africa. They had kids and first, they had my brother, Jonathan. Two years later, they had me. I was raised with Jonathan and it was strangely morbid, living alone in Africa with only my brother, father, and mother. Jonathan was a morbid child. He killed animals for fun, used sticks to hit me with, weird things like that.

"Then, when I was five, my mother died during childbirth to my other brother. He was never named, but I do know when my father found my mother and the baby dead- he didn't stay home during the birth- he threw the baby in the ocean and buried my mother in the backyard.

"He never was the greatest father. He used to beat my mother before dragging her off to their bedroom and raping her. When she died, he turned his demented mind to me. Jonathan always joined in on the Clary bashing when my father did. They would inject me with my father's science experiments to see how I would react. They did this daily. Sometimes, it would feel like my whole body was burning from the inside out or would wake up with no memory of the prior days. My father would literally poison me before trying to make potions that would make me feel even worse. He whipped me and beat me when I didn't do as he pleased. Other times, I was completely paralyzed and then, my brother had his way with me. Even when I wasn't drugged up, my brother had his way with me several times a week. I know my father knew what was happening, but he never said a thing. Sometimes, Jonathan would even-" Her voice cracked and Jace pulled her into his lap and cradled her.

"You don't have to-"

"Yes I do Jace. I need to tell someone. I've never told anyone this in my life, but I really need to just get it off my chest and into the air. It hurts too much not to talk about it, and you need to know why I'm broken." Jace nodded and motioned for her to continue.

"Sometimes Jonathan would do strange things in bed besides... you know... the raping his sister part. He would rub animal blood on me and lick it off, or take their organs and cut them up before rubbing them on his hands before taking me. I'm not really sure what went wrong in his birth, but something awful must have happened during that pregnancy.

"Then, when I was eleven, these Americans were collecting Africans in nearby tribes. My father had been getting sick of me and when Jonathan and I were asleep one night, he carried me to the Americans and sold me too them. When I awoke, I was on a ship chained to hundreds of other Africans, on my way to America. The stories I could tell you of that ship ride here are a long talk on it's own.

"And after lots of fighting masters for five years, trading plantations, and thousands, maybe millions of whippings, here I am. Alone. Broken. Unloved. And unable to love anyone else. As my father always repeated to Jonathan as he was beating me, to love is to destroy."

Jace gaped. To love is to destroy. That was something he had heard at a master's house one time. A dark haired man and his son had came to his master's house and were looking for their... daughter and sister. No, he thought.

"No? I'm so sorry Jace but it's true. To love is to destroy. Anyone I could ever have had a chance to love has left me or injured me Jace. I'm sorry, I can't help it, I just-"

"No," Jace interrupted. "I didn't mean no to you. I was just thinking of something I'll explain to you in a little bit. Your story though, it's morbid and horrible. I'm very sorry for everything that's ever happened to you. No one should have to go through anything nearly that bad. But just because you have gone through that, it doesn't mean you should let your past control your present and future. Never forget, but you can use your past to be a better you now." Clary's was speechless. Jace felt nervous that what he had just said wasn't tright to say, but Clary only hugged him and muttered something.

"What Clare?"

"I said you're right. I shouldn't let this bring me down," she said into Jace's shoulder. Jace froze and realized this was not true only for her story, but for his. He couldn't let his past define him and it certainly shouldn't affect his future.

Clary and Jace sat there for what seemed like ages and they just hugged and sat in a content silence.

"Thank you Jace. For helping me through this," Clary said. The sides of Jace's mouth quirked up and he looked at her.

"Of course Clary. Anything you need and I'm here for you."