Tris pov
Disclaimer: I don't own divergent. No matter how much I wish I did I sadly do not.
This is short but I'm going to do short chapters so I can update more often well that is if you want me to continue the story. Comments are appreciated.
Every one is always concerned with the loud ones. Always worried about what they will do but while you put all your attention in to making sure they don't punch you in the face a quiet one is going to kick you in the back. But if you spend all your time watching the quiet ones a loud one will punch you in the face. That's life for you. It's going to beat you up no matter what.
I'm six. I just started school two weeks ago at divergent high school for the brave but I like to call it a living hell. I tried to talk to someone once. A jerk named Peter. He shoved me to the ground and told me to never talk to him again. All I said was hi. Now I talk to no one. I get really good grades yet no one asks to work on a project together. No one even knows my name. I moved here so I missed the sports sign ups but they are today. Everyone here plays sports and are friends with in there sport. Since I don't play a sport they all hate me. I can see why they don't get the best grades. They don't realize I might join there sport.
I get ready to leave. I wear a pair of black jeans and a batman shirt. I throw on my black converse sneakers and jump on my motorcycle. Every one wonders who my motorcycle belongs to. It has a big red six on the front with red flames on it. If anyone bothered to learn my name they could navel figured it out by now. I'm the first one to school as always so I can work out. There's also a beat up truck here which I think is weird.
I make my way over to the gym when I hear a noise inside. It sounded like a groan of pain so I run in. The man has a hood on so I can't Se his face but I can see the cuts on his back. I run over to him and he doesn't say anything.
"Let me help you." I say.
"No, just forget it. I can do this on my own." He says.
"Who would I tell? Now stop being a stubborn brat and let me help." He looks like he's about to argue but stops. I look at his wounds. They are just like the ones I get. I go into my bag and get what I need to dress the cuts. I wash them, disinfect them, and then wrap them.
"Now they won't scar. I won't tell anyone but you should report them. They are weak to do that to you. And I want you to know you are strong to live with all of this." I say and walk off. My brother would say that after every beating I got from our drunken dad. Before we moved in with aunt tori.
The part of his face I could see looked familiar and also his voice. I couldn't place it but he seemed so familiar. And I want to see him again.