Closer to the Clouds
Prologue

I am Beatrice Prior. I am eighteen years old. I have been stuck in a deep depression for over four and half years. Nothing makes me happy, unless you count those occasional smiles that come to my face when I think about my early childhood. That's when I was carefree and I lived how I wanted. I never questioned my surroundings. I was perfectly content with every person in my life. I needed no more, no less. I thought I had a perfect life.

Then I turned nine. I began to ask questions like, "Why isn't my dad here?" or "When can I see my dad?" No one could give me a straight answer. I guess they thought they couldn't say that he never loved you to a nine year old, but it would've just caused less pain that way.

I spent the next year being lied too about where he was and why he was never around. I would get one phone call every month from my father. It was never a good conversation, just the normal things like, "How was your day?" and "How was school?" I eventually came to the realization that he never cared and never will.

By the time I was eleven, I actually met my father for the first time. I never counted the time he first met me when I was five weeks old because I couldn't remember it. He had a new family, but it's not like I was ever a part of his old one. He had a wife who was twenty-four, my mother was thirty-three. He had two other children who were lovely. I had a wonderful time bonding with them and we became really close. They were both girls, the older one- Isabelle- was beautiful. She had long brown hair and large 'doe eyes', that's what my father, Andrew, called them. The younger one was named Jade, she had emerald green eyes and shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. They were nine and six then.

My stepmother- Ava- and I got really close as well, at least that's what she thought. I trusted her a lot, but what I learned is that too much trust can kill you. She and my father convinced me that we were one happy family and they attempted to get custody of me. My mother wouldn't let it happen, for that I am glad. I don't know if I could've stood Ava day in and day out. She always seemed a little too happy. She was young and stupid. What am I saying? She still has the mindset of a sixteen year old. My mother has always told me that I am wise beyond my years. I personally believe that I am more mature than Ava.

That theory was proven correct when Ava and my father got busted for being on heroine when I was thirteen. Isabelle and Jade were taken away by CPS at the ages of eleven and eight. They were sent to Texas to live with their grandmother, Jennifer. I convinced my mother to drop me off at their house so I can finally tell them what I thought. I wasn't scared to tell my father how much it hurt me that he wasn't there for me. I wasn't scared to tell Ava how she dressed like a prostitute and that she was a horrible mother. I finally wasn't scared of speaking up. I found my voice and I regret using it to this day.

*Flashback*

"Mom, I have my phone and if I need you I will call. I'll be fine." I give her a reassuring smile and get out the car, yelling a quick 'I love you' as I jog up the front steps.

Once I reached the door, something came over me. All that fear that I will never see my father again came back and I knocked on the door lightly, tentative if I made the right choice to tell them what I thought. My father hasn't been there for me for thirteen years, but for some odd reason I just can't help but love him.

"It must be the last name. Yeah, that's what it is." I mumble.

That's what I constantly tell myself, but I know it's not true. 'I'm just young, hormonal and I can't control my feelings', as my mom would put it. He doesn't deserve to be my father, at least that's what I've be told. I just feel like I have to have him in life. I knock again, a little harder this time. I can hear the lock being undone and I'm greeted with what I call a fake smile from Ava. "Hello, Sweetie."

"Do not call me that." I growl.

"What would you rather me call you? Little Bitch?" She smirks.

"What should I call you? I think little slut will suit you well." I give her a wicked grin.

"Andrew! Your little brat is here!" She screams.

"You're so childish." I say and roll my eyes.

He emerges from the hallway and looks at Ava disapprovingly. "That was unnecessary, Ava. Tris did nothing to you." He gives me a smile then a hug. I don't hug back.

"Did I do something wrong, Tris?" He asks worriedly.

I laugh. "Did you do something wrong? Where do I start? You weren't there when I was born-"

"That wasn't my fault. You mother didn't tell me when the C-section was scheduled." He begins to raise his voice.

"I was told that you were in jail. I think that is the truth. You are just a coward and don't want to admit it." I begin to get angry. My eyes fill with tears. I only cry when I am fuming. I cannot let him win this argument.

"A coward?" He asks angry and narrows his eyes at me.

"Did I stutter?" I laugh and tears fall down my face. "You've never done anything for me. You damaged me. I'm torn, half of me feels like I am too good to have a good relationship with you, but the other half of me feels like I am not good enough." I am so angry and upset, so I begin to sob. His eyes are trained on his hands and he cannot look me in the eyes. "Due to this, Jade and Isabelle being gone, Ava and my mother's conflicts, everything, my grades are dropping and I'm always angry."

I begin to cry harder. I sometimes wonder what it would be like with a normal family, or what it would be like with both parents under one roof. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and call my mom.

"Hey, baby." She says.

"I'm ready for you to come pick me up." I cry into the gold, iPhone 5s.

"I'm on my way." She says and comes to pick me up.

No later than five minutes, there is a pounding at the door. I hop up to get it, but Ava grips my forearm and yanks me back. Hard. I scream as loud as I can in anger and charge towards her. I feel someone grab me by my waist and I immediately realize it's my father. I kick and scream and he throws me on the floor. He slaps me hard on my cheek and I bring my head to my knees, protecting my face and stomach. He continuously kicks me and I cry.

"Andrew, let her get up! Stop hurting her!" My mother screams at the top of her lungs.

As my father takes a break from kicking me to speak, I decide you get up. My mother and father continue to argue as I stand with tears steaming down my face. "Stop. Just, stop." I whisper.

My mother grabs my hand and intertwines her fingers with mine, she's treating me like I'm a five year old, but I am hurt and I could care less if she's treating me like a baby or not.

"Tris, why don't you stay with us? You know we love you, Tris." Ava says with a menacing tone of voice.

"Don't call me that." I say softly.

"What was that, Tris?" She asks with a light laugh.

"Don't call me that." I say sternly.

"Oh, Tris. You know you love your nickname, Tris." She says it teasingly.

"Don't call me that. My name is Beatrice. That's what my mother named me, not Tris." I yell, clenching my teeth in anger.

My mother slowly yanks my hand and Ava gives me a smug smile,"You ugly little bitch, your eyes are dull and boring. Your thin hair lies limply on your shoulders. Your nose is to long. Your eyes are too large. You're as flat as a board. Damn, better grow up and get a good job and earn some money to fix yourself up." She laughs.

I'll admit, Ava is a beautiful woman on the outside, but on the inside she's pure evil. That's not very pretty, now is it? Nope.

"You do not talk to my daughter that way." My mother growls.

"Who are you to talk to me like you have some sort of authority over me? You're just jealous that I have Andrew and you don't."

"You think that this is over Andrew?" My mother laughs. "This is about how you treat my daughter. You need to treat her well. She's a better person than you'll ever be."

"You act like she's a gift from God. Nobody loves her and nobody ever will."

"I love her." My mother yells and Ava pulls out a knife.

I close my eyes tightly and slowly fall to the ground. This is to much for me to handle and comprehend. It all escalated so quickly. I can only hear bits and pieces of what's going on. Screaming. Crying. Fighting.

I pull my knees to my chest and hug them tightly, zoning out. Not knowing what's going on around me.

*End of Flashback*

After the incident I began to space out a lot. I was failing every class in school. I skipped lunch every day. It was pretty rough. I know it seems like nothing compared to what other people go through, but it's really effected me in the long run.

A few weeks after that my father quit paying child support. He wasn't paying because of his and his wife's drug habit. I went home one day and my mom told my brother Caleb and I they had a court hearing about it (the child support) and my mother explained the whole thing about what was going on with my (half) sisters. The judge understood and asked my father his proposition was he said to pay the 7,200 dollars in 9 months total. The judge said that she was holding him in contempt of the court and beginning immediately he would be escorted to jail. He remained there eighteen months.

When my mother told me... I didn't feel a thing. I was just scared that it didn't sink in and when it did it was going to hit me hard, which it did. I began to self harm. I would grab my razor and replay what Ava said to my over and over in my head. I still do.

I sometimes just feel like I need to feel the pain and see the blood. It was and still is a getaway for me when flashbacks get bad. If someone grabs my arm the wrong way I will space and begin to cry, thinking about that night when she yanked me down harshly to get the door. The night she drove her knife into me causing my left lung to collapse. It was so bad that I ended up having to get lung surgery, and to this day I still have a scar.

I sitting on my bed leaning against the headboard, fantasizing about how life could've been. My eyes slowly drift to my desk and I see two envelopes. I drag my self out of bed and over to my desk. I plop down in my chair and move my laptop over. I slowly pick up the one on top and my fingers skim over my name written in my mother's handwriting on the front. I cautiously peel it open and pull out the letter. It reads:

Dear Beatrice,

I understand these past years have been very rough for you. She's getting out today. You can't hide in your room forever. I understand that your depressed and you need/want time alone. You are a beautiful, young girl who had her childhood taken away from her. You deserve a good life. That's why you and I are going to be moving to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Your brother, Caleb, is a student at Penn State University now and is majoring in psychology. He is working in Penn State Hershey Medical Center under the Summer Undergraduate Research Internship Program. I understand that you and him never really bonded because he was never around and always hanging out with his friends. I know he never really cared about anything to do with your father or you when you got... hurt. He wants to change that now and believes that he can help you.

Love,
Mom

Caleb was never around when I needed him. He never had an interest in getting to know our father, stepmother, or half sisters. He was never home. He was on a camping trip with his best friend Robert when I was rushed to the hospital after being stabbed. He was such a horrible brother that I usually forget I even have a one. I am not looking forward to seeing him. He is two years older and completely ignored me when he lived with is. I don't know how Mom manages paying college tuition for Caleb, paying our bills, buying us food, and sending Caleb monthly checks to do whatever he does in Pennsylvania.

Pennsylvania. Were I'll be moving soon. Great. Just great. I will be in a completely new area and I will not have any fond memories of the place because it's my first time there. It's not like I have any fond memories here in Chicago, though. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to leave Chicago because every day I am reminded of what happened every time I look in the mirror. It's good to have a good distance between me and Ava when she's out of prison. I would kill her, if I saw her.

I place the letter down and ignore the other envelope. I wonder what life will be like in Pennsylvania. I hope I get better.

A/N: This is really easy to write for me. If this gets a response I am hoping to post Chapter One in a few days. Review and Follow. Thank you!