Author's Note: I own none of the characters. All rights go to Veronica Roth.

Chapter 1

I sit on the dirty sidewalk at the corner of the street. I breathe in the frigid air, which drowns out the smell of garbage all over the streets. I try my best to ignore the rip in my sleeve as I settle in for the night. I will never think that it is fair that I have to sleep on the rough sidewalks in Chicago, well everybody else is out in their heated cars.

I'm not a lazy hobo who wants people to pay for drugs, I'm honestly lost. I'm only seventeen years old, so I can only pray that I don't get caught lying in the streets. I don't want to go back to my home in Alabama. It's too dangerous.

The reason behind this is simple. When I was sixteen years old I was stupid and naive. I believed that even if my boyfriend hit me, that he still loved me. I believed that he was capable of love. All my innocence that I felt for the world fell from me like a stone when my abusive boyfriend, Peter, used me. I was too ashamed. I did the thing I do best. I ran.

I wake up to light snow flakes falling. I slowly inch my small, pale hand up to my face and feel my numb nose. I'm so cold that it hurts.

Most homeless people would be camping out by metal trashcans with bright fires illuminating the night, and out begging perfectly happy people for the money they worked hard to get by this time a year.

I sit up straight and look around to see if any of my few possessions are still there. I pick up a silver pan, which I use for a mirror, and the small comb that I brought with me from Alabama.

I try to wiggle my fingers, but pain shoots through my hand. I'm definitely freezing. I sigh and carefully pick a hand up to feel my hair. From what I can tell, it is still in a messy braid.

I begin to stand up, but fall right back down in pain. Coming down the streets are people in new suits and shiny hair, on their way to work. I could easily pickpocket one of the rushing men. After all, I only need one cup of coffee, and maybe some bread to last me the day, but I could never do that.

Instead, I tough and out, and stand up on my numb toes and start making my way to the trashcan outside a big cupcake shop. I remember when it used to be my dream to own a bakery.

I dig through the garbage, not phased by the disgusting smell. I am too determined to accomplish my goal for the day. Stay alive.

I carefully pick up a half eaten loaf of bread, and stare at it with eager eyes. I wouldn't say I was drooling over the filthy, germy bread though.

"Hey!" shouts a voice from the other end of the alley.

By instinct, I drop the bread and take off in the other direction, towards my street corner. I instantly curse myself for dropping such needed food.

"Come back here!" shouts the masculine voice again.

I run until I collapse on top of my torn old blanket with a sigh. I let out a large cough, which vibrates my chest. It even takes me by surprise.

I am still gasping for air when I feel a presence beside me. I whip my head to the side, to meet the eyes of a tall man with deep blue eyes. I bring my knees to my chest out of instinct. I still can't get over the fact that I can't trust men.

"Are you alright?" the man asks, in a deep voice I recognize from the alley.

I breathe in deeply and say, "I'm sorry I was in the trash, I just needed food."

He sighs and hands me a fresh vanilla cupcake. I haven't had one in a year. I snatch it from his hand and breathe in the scent of the fresh cake and sweet frosting. This I am drooling over.

I slowly take a bite, and enjoy the vanilla frosting tingling my taste buds.

"Thank you so much." I say, honestly grateful.

He laughs a deep laugh. "It was really no big deal."

I shake my head and grin at him slightly. "You have no idea how big a deal it is."

He shifts his position, so he is sitting on his bottom next to me. I take another bite of the fresh cake, and try not to look him in the eyes.

"Aren't you a little young to be living here?" he asks, quietly

I shake my head and pull myself into a tighter ball. It reminds me of my mother's embrace.

"I can't go home." I say with finality.

He nods his head and makes his way back into the cupcake shop. I wish I had the comfort of his nice black jacket, but I don't

"If you ever need any help," the man says, motioning to the shop. "I'm right here."

It is that moment that I decide that I need to move where I'm set up. Tris doesn't need help. Beatrice would need help. Beatrice would go running back home at the tiniest raindrop. Tris is brave. Tris doesn't need help. Tris especially doesn't need the help of a nice man with a black jacket.

AN: So that's the first chapter! This is my first fanfic so I'm not really sure if you want me to continue this. I'll be posting again maybe tomorrow or Tuesday. Please review this and tell me what you want to see happen with my story! I'll talk to you all next chapter!