Summary:
Fa•çade– "An outward appearance that is maintained to conceal a less pleasant or creditable reality."
"I lived in a world of abuse and secrets. I felt like everywhere around me, the only thing that could possibly exist was pain or betrayal. I had to get away from him; Marcus. My father. I feel like I've forgotten how to live, and that's what scares me the most. I've forgotten who I am, who I was. My only hope was that becoming Dauntless would help me find myself again. The only thing is, that it wasn't Dauntless that found me. He did."
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Note: This story is my first, but I'm open to criticism. Also, it does include changes and differences, especially in characters and personalities and such.
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I do not own the Divergent Trilogy, nor the characters associated with it.
This is simply a work of my own imagination, in which I hope you enjoy.
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Rated T, but contains/hints at some mature content
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When I was younger, I had once looked out the small window of the study, and watched as the birds beyond would glide through the air; graceful and captivating. It had been years since I was allowed back to the window, but that's beside the point.
I watched as they dove and soared, my hand twitching by my side longingly, wishing I could somehow escape this world. I remember that my eyes had fluttered closed as I tried to flee from the dark thoughts that plagued my mind, churning knots in my stomach and fear in my chest.
And as I stood there, with my hands pressed to the glass and the sound of only my own rhythmic breathing filling the air, I had to wonder.
What if the birds were trying to escape from themselves, too?
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The slam of the door awakens me, and is soon followed by the loud thumps of footsteps climbing the stairs. My groggy mind doesn't have time to register what's happening before I hear the creaking of the door before me, and my sight is obscured with blinding light.
"Get up," I hear his voice bark as a hand firmly grasps around my upper arm, dragging me from the dark closet. I stumble on my unsteady feet, and fall onto my knees and hands as he shoves me forwards.
"Beatrice, Beatrice, Beatrice," Marcus chastises quietly. You should know better, I can almost hear him say.
My heart sinks as I hear the clanking of metal.
"Do you know what today's lesson is?" He asks, but I refuse to speak. A hand clasps onto the back of my neck, squeezing so that my head is forced to raise up.
"Today's lesson," he pauses, shoving my head into the floor, where it connects with the solid wood with a sickening thud.
"Today's lesson," he repeats, "Is benevolence. 'Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.' What do you chose?" He asks, though he knows he will only be greeted by silence.
His hand releases its clutch on my neck, and tangles into my hair before pulling up, dragging me with it. I clench my teeth together and press my lips tightly to keep the scream that sits in my throat from sounding.
My body makes impact with the wall and my head slams forwards with it. Dark spots cloud my vision.
His hand grabs greedily onto my shirt, ripping it off from behind. I squeeze my eyes shut as tightly as I can. He hardly ever allows me to wear undergarments, and now is no exception. I am bare beneath my clothes.
His belt slashes into my back, sending a wave of pain throughout my body. I let out a quiet hiss as my back is met with another whip of the belt. My hands clench into fists as they press to the wall, my nails digging into my palms as I'm delivered one after another, a seemingly endless cycle of excruciating pain. I've lost count by the time a strangled wail leaves my lips. He leans forwards and grabs the hem of my pants, his foul breath fluttering over my ear as he whispers.
"This is for your own good."
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When I regain consciousness, I find myself sprawled out on the floor, lying in a pool of my own blood. The musty smell makes its way into my nostrils and invades my senses. The metallic taste fills my mouth, and I'm suddenly thrown into a fit of gags and coughs, though nothing but blood comes up.
It's been days since I'd last had anything to drink or eat, but I'm somewhat thankful that some of the dryness in my throat has been relieved–even if it was the coughing up of my blood that had done it.
My breathing comes out in quick and shallow pants as I raise myself shakily to my hands and knees, my body screaming in agony.
It isn't until now that I realize that light no longer floods the room, but instead, the grayish-blue hue of early dawn. I let out a small groan of pain.
How long was I out?
I slowly get to my feet, but not without burning difficulty. My mind is a muddled haze when I try to remember what happened before I'd passed out, and I come up with nothing.
It's probably best that I don't remember anyways, considering my dark grey pants and shirt were scattered haphazardly across the room, and the dull ache that has set between my legs.
My head bows in shame, but I refuse to shed the tears that blur my vision. If I were to let even one trail down my cheek, I know that it would be just as deprecating as admitting defeat, and that is something I will never do.
Seeing that I can't bear to stand straight, my back is hunched as I limp to the corner of the room curl up into a ball, ignoring the pain that ripples throughout my back. My eyes flutter shut, but I have to resort to biting my lip to keep in the screams in. Every bit of my body feels as if it's been set aflame. It's Hell.
And if this is Hell, then my father is the very devil himself; only living to inflict pain on his only daughter.
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I slip back out of consciousness like that, with my shoulder and cheek pressed against the wall and bloodied, tender back open to the stinging air.
This time, I do not dream, but rather drown in suffocating nightmares.
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My mind is still confined within the grasps of darkness when I awake in a sheet of sweat, the claws of the nightmare raking through my every thought. The stray hairs at the base of my neck have become plastered in the same salty moisture that seems to pour down my forehead, and the erratic beating of my heart struggles to steady itself. My blood stains my skin, but has somehow stopped trickling down my back.
I run a trembling hand through my tangle of lifeless, blonde hair as I try to collect myself. My fear begins to subside, and a rolling upsurge of torment steps in its place. I can't stop the cry from breaking out. Tears fill my eyes, again, and I squeeze them shut in effort to keep them at bay.
I lay there like that for a while, my body shaking violently as I struggle to keep the screams from emerging.
The clicking of the door doesn't faze me in my daze of pain, until a boot kicks at my back. This time, a scream erupts out of my mouth.
"Get up," Marcus spits, giving me an unpleasant sense of deja vú. I feel as though I'm paralyzed. My eyes dart up to my fingers, which twitch in time with the spasms of my mangled back. There's no way I'll ever be able to get up now.
"Fine. Lay there, you worthless thing. I thought I'd be nice enough to let you know what day it is. You are to go to school today, seeing that you have your aptitude test."
My heart leaps. Aptitude test? School? I haven't been to school since I'd turned ten. I haven't been outside since I'd turned ten, I think bitterly.
I look up, keeping my face void of emotion as he crouches down next to me.
His voice is dangerously silent as he he grabs my jaw roughly, making my teeth click together. I'm glad my tongue hadn't been in the way, or else I would have bitten into it.
"Now, what faction are you going to get?"
"Abnegation," I whisper quietly. He smirks. "Good girl. Now, tell me, have you learned your lesson?"
I clench my jaw, but nod nonetheless.
It was for my own good.
Thank you if you've read this far! I hope you enjoyed this first chapter; I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know your thoughts on it by either leaving a review or favoriting/following, but I'm not going to be the type of person to beg or bribe.
Please remember to favorite, follow, or review c:
* the quote that Marcus says is from Martin Luther King Jr. *