Hey initiates! Welcome to my newest story! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I do!
Disclaimer: This story is strong T for future chapters as foul language is evident and minor sexual content will be directed. Please read only if you are of appropriate age.
Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent
Chicago, 2057 June 17th.
The sound of the truck pulling toward the house brings me out of my daydream. The tires are grinding against the stones that hang loose around the unpaved driveway. I watch my brother step down onto the perch and pull his body to the ground from the truck, keeping his feet firmly planted on the ground as he walks over to the other side, and opens the shotgun seat. Swiftly, he turns around and pops the tailgate down on the back of the truck.
Summer hasn't even begun yet, but it is seasonably warmer for the city with the warm breeze flowing around, that doesn't usually come around until July or August, and the sun is never blazing down so forcefully from a clear sky this time of year; not yet at least.
He saunters over to me, and wordlessly takes the luggage from my side and hobbles over to the tailgate, sliding the luggage inside. I carry a few boxes, helping him as best as I can with my thin, but muscular arms. I can feel my muscles tightening underneath my shirt and my calves grow steady and firm.
Once he takes the last box from me, I climb into the truck as the tailgate slams closed. I hear the jingle of the keys against his pocket, as I look back toward my house. The 'For Sale' sign has been removed, and all that is left is a white picket sign holder which used to display it.
My hand is rested on the dashboard, the other gripping the inside door handle tightly to contain my emotions. I blink back tears from my eyes, and I feel the grip of my brother's warm, medium sized hand lacing between my fingers and squeezing my hand firmly, tenderly.
"It's going to be okay, Tris." He says to me, and his voice is almost breaking. Glancing over at him, I don't know if it's me whose crying, or if it's the swallowing gulps of tears I see filling his eyes, or maybe we're both just wallowing in our own self misery.
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I can almost taste blood. "Please, just drive Caleb." My voice must sound desperate, and I close my eyes and rest my head back against the headrest of the seat, and listen to the truck grind against the gravel in the driveway. I don't open my eyes until I can feel the steady movement of the asphalt on the road, and my brother removes his hand from mind so he can guide the steering wheel.
I take one look back in the rear view mirror, and all I see is the past I am leaving behind.
I can never go back.
/~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~/
When the incident first occurred, my brother was the only person I wanted to consult besides my neighbor and closest friend, Susan. Unfortunately, she moved away just says before, and I lost all will to want to contact with anyone outside my family circle.
My brother was the most supportive, who automatically suggested I shouldn't dwell on the accident. It would've been hard not to, the accident claiming the lives of two of the best people I've ever loved dead on impact. I could've been in the car with them, but I wasn't.
Caleb thanks God for that a lot. I've heard it at least twice a day for the last six weeks.
It's hard to accept it. One day, I wake up, and think they'll be downstairs laughing, or talking, or catching me up on news and politics, and all about the big candidate debate my father was supposed to participate in this year. But all I had was a funeral; a funeral for my two of the best people in the world –my parents– Natalie and Andrew Prior.
It made the front page of the morning newspaper for two weeks.
High-stake Political Leader and Fashion Wife Killed In Car Accident. Natalie and Andrew Prior were found deceased when the car they were driving in to pick up one of their children, was struck by a semi-truck and flipped over, catching on fire and causing the causalities. Andrew Prior, unfortunately, died on impact, and Natalie Prior died three hours later in a coma in St. Chicago Hospital. They are survived by their two children, Caleb and Beatrice Prior.
The news nearly sent me into a spiraling depression. My parents were blocks away, and you thought maybe I would've heard the impact, but I heard the sirens, and I remember my phone ringing. All I could hear was Caleb screaming and crying at the same time, that someone had killed our parents in a car accident.
I couldn't stay in Chicago anymore after that. My mom's sister, Tori, offered to allow Caleb and I to move in with her until we got back on our feet. That was two months ago. In those two months, Caleb got accepted into Princeton, received a full scholarship, and found a storage unit for our father's belongings. I sold the house, packed up my mother's belongings, sold my motorcycle my father built for me two years ago for my fifteenth birthday and finally got the courage to leave. I was going to live with Tori until I could find a place of my own, or get back on my feet.
Tori agreed that I didn't have to go to high school. I received my GED shortly after, already having all the basic necessities of graduation requirements that were absolutely substantial to my survival in the grown up world.
Sixteen hours later, my brother and I ended up just on the coast of Washington State in a town called Forks, where the population was a little under ten thousand people by this time. Tori always said it was a small, quiet secluded place 'off the map' and wasn't exactly too hard to find something to do around these parts.
Tori warned me that Forks was always warmer given we were closest to the coast, but it rained a lot, seasonably of course, with almost three fourths of the year being rain or cloudy, but that didn't bother me. I was always the type of child to dance around in the rain and pretend like I was invincible, without a care in the world.
I snapped from my thoughts when I heard the tailgate slam close. Bud, Tori's boyfriend and work partner, was helping my brother carry my belongings. She told me that they had been together a while, and he was a man in his early thirties with a medium build and brown eyes. His eyes shifted with mine for a few seconds as I faced him from the window. He looks as if he was about to speak to me, but he decided against it, and continued on forward.
I sat in the side seat of the truck, trying to imagine what my mother was like when she was young, especially at this house that Tori said she visited frequently with her mother. I could imagine her long blond curls wrapping around her face in the wind as she ran with her siblings, and with Hana, one of her other good friends from childhood who lived out here with my mother before she moved to NYC, pursued a career in fashion designing, spent some time traveling around in New York before she married my father, moved-
Snap!
I cover my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream as I hear a twig snap from beside the truck, or from behind it. I'm too short to see beside the rear view window from where Caleb has the seats elevated down so low, because he is so tall. I open the door, and immediately jump down, my blond hair framing my face and clinging to my shoulders and back. The sound was so sudden it snapped me from the beautiful vision of my mother as a child; content, carefree, happy, bursting with energy, and alive.
Turning around, I expect to be greeted with my brother and his tall, narrow and round face, chubby cheeks, and sea green eyes and short brown hair and handsome features like my father, but I'm greeted by someone else leaning against the tailgate.
He is way over six feet tall in height, almost the height of my brother, with a black defined t-shirt that tightly shows his muscles. He is almost pure muscle, and wasn't makes up for in looks. He has a round face with short black hair and black stubble just underneath his chin. He looks really good, and I mean really good in his black jeans and hoodie with a logo he has thrown over his torso. I could see his muscles defining as he stretched.
But then he turns and notices me when I clear my throat.
His eyes are a beautiful captivating, navy blue. It's like swimming in an ocean with the most beautiful, self-preserved shade of the night sky filling in around the edges where a white edge would be around a normal eye. They're so beautiful, the longer I stare at them the more I notice that they're almost a black color.
The man clears his throat, and in a deep rumble he says, "Nice to meet you. My name is Four."
There it is! The first chapter of my newest story!
I'm sorry it's not as long as I originally intended, but I wanted to give you an idea!
~Leigh