Chapter 1

Tris:

I hear my adoptive brother's breathing even out as the drink that i spiked with my neighbors antidepressant sets in. I slowly sneak out of his room making sure to miss the squeaky floorboards as I make my way to the garage. I quickly grab the backpack that I had packed yesterday with my few belongings that are not in storage. Then, without a second thought I grab the bike that I had saved up for for months from behind the bushes on the side of the house and take off. I make it to the bus stop within ten minutes and purchase my ticket. The drivers name tag reads Zeke and he seems nice. He has tan skin, brown eyes, high cheekbones, and brown, slightly curly hair. A look of concern passes over his features as he takes in the bags under my eyes and overall unhealthy look. However it quickly passes and when I offer him a gracious tip to help persuade him to let me take my bike with me he says I can but tells me to keep the money. I thank him and after he helps me put my bike in a compartment under the bus I dash to my seat and almost instantly fall asleep.

I wake up three hours later with a bad feeling that I am quite familiar with. I rush to the back of the bus and into the vacant bathroom right as my stomach heaves and I lose what little I had for dinner. When I emerge from the bathroom five minutes later with the taste of bile still lingering in my mouth I notice that the driver, Zeke has the bus stopped at a red light and is looking back at me. I rush back to my seat, pull up my hood and fall back asleep.

The next time I wake up it is surprisingly eight hours later. I quickly realize that the bus has stopped and someone was lightly shaking me. I immediately distance myself from the stranger and look up at them noticing that it is the driver. What's his name...Zeke.

"Hi," he whispers "the ride is over and your bike is waiting for you"

"Thanks" I mumble as I push past him and run off the bus to my bike. I make sure to get out of there before he can take another look at me. I don't want him or anyone else remembering too much about me. Sadly, as much as I try to remember the streets of my childhood home I can't so I stop at a coffee shop to ask for directions. The barista tells me that I'm not too far and it should take me about fifteen minutes to get where I want to go. However, five minutes through my ride I start feeling faint. When I get to the place I'm looking for I drop my bike and run up the steps with just enough time to knock on the door, wait for someone to answer, see the shocked face of my best friend and whisper her name before I collapse into darkness.