"Frozen Truths"

Chapter 1 {Tris' POV}

-o-o-o-

"So, they just fired you?" Tori asks from behind the counter, watching me as I wipe down tables. "Without any warning at all?"

"No, it was just totally out of the blue," I huff. "Cara said that I "didn't fit their image", whatever that means."

"It means that they don't like the fact that you're from this side of town, and that you don't own multiple properties, and don't have money falling out of your ears."

"I just wish they'd have given me some kind of notice, y'know?" I say, moving on to scrubbing the next booth. "At least then I could've started to search for a new job. Now I'm living on one pay check, and we both know that I need another, if I'm going to be able to look after us at home."

"On that note, how is your mom? Any better?"

"Well.. she's not any worse." I answer, nibbling at my bottom lip.

"I'm sorry, I was stupid to even ask" she says, gently. "Any word from your brother? Perhaps he could help out with the bills and such?"

I can't help but scoff. "Yeah, right. Caleb has made it pretty clear that he wants nothing to do with us, anymore."

Tori gives me a sad smile, before moving across the diner to serve a bunch of rowdy teenagers in the corner.

I've been working here at the diner since junior year, and eventually took on a full-time shift, shortly after becoming a senior. I love working here, and Tori has always treated me with great respect, but the pay isn't great, which is why I needed that second job.

And the fact that I've been fired, is a big problem - the people in this town aren't in a hurry to hire "youths with no qualifications", so it's not easy to find a job around these parts. Which is an even bigger problem, because no job means no money, which means I'm in a lot of shit.

I dropped out of high school a few months into my senior year, because my mom needed me. Which means I never got to do my exams, and never had the opportunity to get out of this hell hole of a town and escape to college.

My brother - Caleb - wasn't prepared to make the same sacrifices that I did, and continued on with his college life over in California. He's a couple years older than me, so you'd think that it'd be him to take on the responsibility, but here I am. Hell, he hasn't even bothered to come back and visit since he left; not even during the holidays.

I move towards the kitchen, but stop by at Frank's table with the coffee pot. "More coffee?" I offer with a genuine smile.

"Oh, yes please," he says. "And maybe another one of your beignets - Tori tells me you've made a fresh batch just now."

"Of course, I'll have one of those right out." I say, refilling his cup with coffee, before continuing on my way to the kitchen.

After beginning to brew more coffee and plating up two of the beignets that I had made earlier, I migrate back into the front and slide the plate onto his table.

Frank White is a regular here, and has been ever since I started working here. He would come with his wife every Wednesday evening, for coffee and french fries. Sadly, his wife passed a year ago after battling with Breast Cancer, and Tori and I were even invited to the funeral.

Ever since, Frank still comes to the diner on Wednesday Evenings, and brings a picture of his wife along with him. He often sits there and has conversations with the framed picture, like he would've done if she was really there. I'm not sure whether it makes me want to laugh a little, or burst into tears. A bit of both, I think.

"I really wish you had started to make these when my Rose was here," he says, fondly, glancing at the picture frame opposite him. "She would've loved them; she always was a sucker for a good pastry."

"I remember. She would order cherry pie, every time she came in." I add, smiling a little.

As I turn, a gang of teenagers push through the door, laughing. They are all dressed in Halloween costumes, seeing as today is October 31st, so I can only presume they were at some kind of party - they look much too old to be going out trick-or-treating. They grab a booth and pile into it, grabbing at the menus.

I look away. I can't help but think about the days that I was able to do stuff like that; go out to parties with my friends, spend my free time doing normal teenager things, rather than working my ass off just to keep a roof over my head. I was like them once, but those times have passed.

I give Frank a pat on the shoulder before heading in their direction.

"What can I get y'all?" I ask, flipping open my pad, and slipping my pen out from the pocket of my apron.

After taking down their order of a dozen burgers and milkshakes, I head off to the kitchen to let the chef know, before getting started on the milkshakes behind the counter.

I miss being in High School, as dull as I once believed it to be - there was a sense of freedom there, one that I no longer have. Being only nineteen, I haven't been able to do all the things people my age have. I have no time, anymore.

My number one priority is looking after my mom, and the only way I can do that is if I work all day, every day, to make sure bills are paid, and the cupboards are stocked with food, and that she has the medication she requires. And within all of that, the prospect of a social life disappeared.

But I try to look at things optimistically, rather than feeling sorry for myself all the time. Where's that going to get me? Besides, I'm sure there are others out there who have it much worse than I do, so I shouldn't really be complaining, in the first place.

I pour the milkshake into the glasses, add straws and slide them onto a tray.

By the time I've delivered both the milkshakes and the burgers, and go to collect Frank's trays, he's busying himself with doing the buttons up on his coat.

"You get home safe now, are you sure you'll be okay?" I ask him, anxiously. Despite it being such a small town, I know a lot of terrible things that have happened on Halloween - and since he's a little old man, and it's pretty much pitch black outside, his chances of getting away if something were to happen are very slim.

"I'll be fine, don't you worry about it, Tris," he says, waving me off, reassuringly. "You just make sure that you get home safely. There are a lot of people out there who would take advantage of a pretty girl like you, I can tell you that much."

"Have a good night, Frank. I'll see you next Wednesday?" I say, my cheeks growing warm at the compliment.

"Of course, I hope to enjoy some more of those beignets." He confirms, before opening the door to the diner and walking out, pulling on his hat at the same time.

A girl at the teenagers booth raises a hand and calls me over, asking for the bill.

In no time at all, the place is deserted and Tori is flipping the sign on the door from open to closed. I hop up onto the counter and count out my tips for the day, coming to the total of a resounding $15 bucks. The majority of the customers here are teenagers, and they don't leave very generous tips, if they do at all.

"So, what are you going to do about finding a new job? I'm sure someone would hire you, there are tons of cafes that will need staff." Tori says as she begins to stack chairs up onto the tables.

"I don't know," I sigh. "But I need to find a placement quick, the rent is due in a few weeks and if I can't get enough..."

"I really wish I could give you more wages, Tris, I do. But with Bud out of work and Summer at home -"

"Of course, you have bills to pay, just like I do. But you also have a kid to look out for," I say, nodding. "I'm sure I'll manage somehow. I always scrape by, don't I?"

"It's not fair; you should be enjoying life while you're still young, not slaving away, working multiple jobs, worrying yourself sick.. it's not right." She says, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"There's not much I can do about that, though, is there?" I remind her. "It's just one of those things, I guess. Mom is in no position to work, and with Caleb refusing to acknowledge our existence, I have no other choice but to be the one to earn a living for us."

"You've been handed a pretty crappy hand in life, Tris. How you remain so mature about it all, amazes me."

"You get used to it," I shrug. "D'you need any help cleaning up before I head home?"

"You've done more than enough, you get home. Make sure you stick to the main streets too, I'm willing to bet they'll be more trouble this time of night." Tori advises.

Over the years, slowly, Tori has become a motherly figure to me - now that mine has slipped away from me. She's always looking out for me the way my mom used to do, checking that I'm eating well, and that everything is okay at home. It's nice having someone fussing over me for a change, rather than vice versa.

I slip off the counter and hang up my apron, swapping it for my black hooded sweatshirt. After bidding Tori goodnight, I leave the diner, and flinch at the cold air. The air bearing a fall bite, is a definite difference from the warm, cosy diner.

I start the long walk home - I don't have money spare to catch the last bus of the night, so my only option is to walk, which sucks.

Ignoring Tori's advice, I take a left off the main street, and step into a dark alley, lit by a single street light. It's pretty creepy, but I'm too cold to care. I can hear music somewhere off in the distance, presumably a party or something. In high school, Halloween parties were pretty popular, and I went to a fair few myself.

I shove my hands deep inside my pockets, shivering a little. I've always hated the cold, I much prefer the sun. But at least it's not snowing. But around here, winters do end up being very snowy, so I have that to look forward to in a couple months.

Thankfully, I manage to get home in record time, and my hands are only half frozen. I kick off my sneakers and pick up the mail, shuffling through to find bills, bills and more bills. A sigh escapes my lips and I throw them down on the kitchen table.

I slip into the living room to find mom lying on the couch, in the same position she was when I left her this morning. She hasn't even moved an inch. She stares at the television screen, her face slack and vacant of emotion. She doesn't even notice my sudden appearance in the room.

I approach the couch and sit down on the floor beside her head, and brush some hair away from her eyes. Her eyes snap to meet mine, and she jerks away from my touch, curling up into a tighter ball. My eyes cloud over with tears, but I blink them away. I hate seeing her like this, and I hate knowing that there's nothing that I can do to help her.

I stand up and draw the curtains closed, turning off the TV while I'm at it. "Try and get some rest, mom." I say softly before leaving the room, pulling the door closed behind me.

She's been that way for a year now, and it kills me, watching the woman who looked after me for seventeen years, just slip away into the darkness of herself. She was always so strong, but then Dad died, and she lost all of that strength.

He passed away during my senior year, in a fatal car accident on the highway, a couple miles away from town. He was returning home from a business trip, and a truck lost control from the lane alongside him, and crashed into my dad's beat up car. By the time the air ambulance had got him to the hospital, it was too late, he was already gone.

Mom totally lost it, and stayed in her bed for a solid week. She wouldn't eat, she wouldn't drink.. I thought that she was going to kill herself if she kept it up. So I dropped out of school to look after her. With me at home most of the time, I could focus my attention on helping her to become more healthy.

And although I succeeded in getting her to eat and drink, she was still spiralling into a vicious case of depression, and there was nothing I could do but sit there and watch it happen. The doctors prescribed her with sleeping drugs, anti-depressants.. but nothing seems to be working.

And then we started to run out of money, and my job at the diner wasn't cutting it, so I went searching for a second job, and then a third. After getting fired from both my second and third, I'm back to square one, trying to scrape by with the wages Tori is providing me with. I have to get a new job, and fast.

I shrug off my jacket and flop down at the kitchen table, where the stack of bills sit, taunting me. I close my eyes and sink back into the wooden chair, a heavy feeling of dread settling on my chest.

I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. I'm trying so hard to look at this in a positive way, to try and search for the bright side, but none of it seems to work. It certainly feels that way. For right now, at least. Right now I feel like I've got the weight of the world on my shoulders, and I'm struggling to stand straight.

A tear slides down my cheek before I can stop it, leaving a damp trail as it drips from my chin. I bring my feet up on to the chair and wrap my arms around my legs, burying my head into my knees.

I can't cry, I tell myself. I can't cry, because that means I'm admitting that things are getting too hard, and I'm not prepared to do that.

So I take a deep, shaky breath and straighten up, reaching for the bills. But among them is a leaflet, glossy and posh-looking, so much so that I almost toss it away. But taking a closer look at the print, my heart does a backflip.

'Help Wanted', it reads.

On closer inspection, I realise that it's an advertisement for a maid job on the high-class part of town. My eyes scan over the writing and find the salary rate, and I almost choke on my own tongue. I would be earning five times what I do at the diner, more than enough to keep us living in our house, enough to keep the medication coming.

It's perfect. And since I've spent my whole life cleaning up after mom, and making sure the diner is kept squeaky clean, I have plenty of experience, and it's nothing complex.

I jot the number down on a piece of spare paper lying around on the table, and tuck it into the back pocket of my skinny jeans. It's much too late to call now, but I can try in the morning.

This could be the start of something new. I'll be able to look after myself and mom properly, without worrying if there's any food left in the fridge, or if I have enough money in my wallet to buy the meds she needs. I just hope they offer me the job, though I doubt there will be many applicants. Not many people strive to be maids, that much is obvious. But there are worse jobs than cleaning, right?

And I'll be able to witness first hand, how the other half live. The address is located in the better part of town, and I'm willing to bet the owners are pretty well off.

I get up from the table and head over to the sink, splashing my face with cold water from the tap. Glancing up at the window, I see my reflection, and I recoil at the sight. My skin is pale and tired, and dark circles lie under my eyes.

I look like I haven't slept in a week. But that's to be expected; I spend every night tossing and turning on the lumpy mattress, worrying over every little thing. On a whole, I'd say I get - at most - four hours sleep. Which is nowhere near enough, I'm aware.

I exit the kitchen and flip off the light switch, and after checking on mom for the last time, I head upstairs. I step into the bathroom and turn on the shower, keeping the water on medium heat so I don't waste all the hot water.

I strip off my clothes and step into the stream of water, sighing as it soothes my aching muscles. I've always enjoyed showers, it gives me a good amount of space to think, without anybody interrupting me. I reach for the shampoo and lather it into my waist-length hair.

I've debated over a hundred times whether or not I should get it chopped off - more often than not, it's always getting in my way and it's not very easy to tame. But mom always liked my hair long, and I'm sure if she was in the right state of mind, she would tell me to keep it how it is now. Dad used to like it too, and when I was young, he would always call me his little Rapunzel.

I miss him, a lot, actually. But I don't always have the time to grieve his death, but in a way, I'm glad. I don't want to dwell on something that I cannot change. I visit his grave as often as I can, and take some flowers.

Mom hasn't been since the initial funeral, which feels like a lifetime ago.

After a fairly quick shower, I change into a pair of sleep shorts and a ragged, old sweatshirt and walk into my room.

The wallpaper is peeling away from the walls, and the paint is chipping, rather quickly. I slide under my sheets and wrap them around me tightly, shivering. I've never been able to afford any heating, so we've had to make do. In the summer months it was fine, but now it's getting closer to winter.. not so much.

But if I get this maid job, I'll be able to fork out for some decent heating, and I won't spend every night feeling as if I'm freezing to death.

Mom is fine downstairs, as I wrap her up in as many blankets as I can find, but I doubt she'd notice, anyway.

I look over at my beside table, to see the framed picture that has sat there for a solid year, not moving an inch. It's a picture of the last family holiday we had together - posing for the picture in front of 'The Bean' in Chicago.

Dad always wanted to visit it, he was always into that kind of artistic architecture. All I saw was a huge metal structure, but he saw more. He always saw more.

My eyes peel away from dad and move to mom, who is smiling - something I haven't seen her done for a long, long time. Caleb is there too, mid laugh, looking lighter than ever. I should find it somewhere inside of me to forgive him for what he's done to us, but I just can't. He might as well have left us for dead. He's certainly no brother of mine. Not anymore. And that's all down to him. It was his choice.

I'm in that picture too, stood beside Dad, grinning at the camera, like I hadn't a care in the world. And I guess, back then, I didn't. Everything was great. I had a great group of friends, a loving family, good grades, a promising future. But that all slipped through my fingers and shattered like glass. I tried picking up the pieces, but I couldn't do it - only Dad could have done that, and he was gone.

I had to watch my once "promising future", fade away, and there was nothing that I could do to get it back. I wish there was a way I could travel back to that time. I could make the most of my time with my parents, while they were still the same.

I would've given my dad more hugs, and I would've appreciated all the things mom did for us, a lot more than I had back then. But it's all wishful thinking. I can't go back and live everything again. I'm here, and I have to accept what has happened.

I'm trying. And isn't that what matters? The countless bills on the table beg to differ. Trying my best is no longer good enough. I have to do better, be stronger, push myself to earn the money we need.

I roll over so my back faces the picture frame, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I can't keep thinking about the past, it hurts too much to remember all of the things that I could've - and should have - done to make things better for us, to appreciate my parents more. I didn't realise that I could lose them like I have.

My wet hair sticks to my cheek, and my body continues to shiver. I let my mind drift, and I fly away from this house, away from this town. That's what I wanted more than anything, back then. To escape this town, and to attend college, just like I've always strived to do. But things change, I suppose.

I bury my face into my pillow, and for the first time in a long time, I fall asleep almost straight away.

-o-o-o-

Authors Note:

Yup, back with another story! I'm really pumped about this idea, and I hope you guys like it so far. It took me a while to write this chapter, as I wanted it to be as good as it could be for you!

A little insight to the story itself - it's a modern day AU, and is a romantic Four/Tris story, but will involve lots of drama and angst, which isn't exactly new for me. But it will be fluffy and is ultimately the struggle to maintain their relationship. For now, the story is rated T, but if you guys are wanting some lemons in the mix, leave a review and let me know!

Lastly, I don't own the rights to Divegent or it's characters. I am just borrowing them for this original fan fiction story!

- GuiltyMind