I sit across from Tris at dinner starved as can be. But anyone could guess from the massive pile of cake, potatoes, and veggies on my plate. My taste buds don't process the taste and I don't even swallow everything before another spoonful meets my mouth. My stomach can't keep up.
Everyone looks at me, confused how I could eat two plates in about ten minutes.
"Are you alright there?" Al asks with heavy caution, taking a piece of cake as if I wasn't going to leave him any.
My stomach wants to combust with all the food, but I still feel hungry. Hungry for something but I cannot place my finger to it. I bite my thumb in anguish.
This is why you're fat. This is why no one thinks you are pretty.
I bite harder. The Voice was strangely subtle yesterday. Tonight they make up for every last torment.
But it's alright. They're stupid anyway. You should've sat elsewhere, alone.
I'm fine.
Blood seeps through the bite mark, and Will is quickly to snap me out of my world.
"I think I know what's wrong with you," he says, reaching his hand out to mine. "Elea whatever it is, it isn't real. Okay?" I yank my hand away, and get up, sneering at him before walking away.
How does he know what's real and what's not? He knows nothing.
Narrative POV
Will sighs at his failed attempt. All he wanted to do was help, but she completely shut him down. "I think Elea might have a very low level Schizophrenia," he says, taking a bite of chocolate cake. Christina snorts.
"That is low level...what?" Christina watches Elea walking up the steps.
"What is Schizophrenia?" Tris asks a little too loud to peak Molly and Peter's interest.
"She's crazy!" Peter laughs. Will interrupts Peter.
"It's when someone hears voices, but they aren't aware that it's not real-"
"And that's a low level?" Christina shakes her head in disbelief. "Whatever she is, she isn't low level!"
"People with severe Schizophrenia tend to be much more hostile," Will corrects. "If she has severe Schizophrenia I'm surprised she has even left her room in Amity!"
"Mm," Edward butts in. "Severely Schizophrenic people tend to be hostile, lock themselves away from others. Sometimes for days to weeks. In some cases they think that the voice they hear is their only friend," he says. Myra nods.
"The voice is usually mean or pushy," she says. "Telling them, the person with Schizophrenia, that they are useless, dumb, ugly, no one likes you, I'm your only friend," Myra says, nodding. Everyone frowns while Peter smirks.
"Really?" he asks. Will ignores him.
"Sometimes it's not that, sometimes it can tell them to do things, anything," he says. "Even murder."
Peter raises his voice.
"I vote to tell someone before-"
"I swear to God, you low life piece of shit," Tris says, hissing. "If you say a damn thing, I will kill you! Do you think this is-"
"Tris?" Al rubs her shoulder.
When Peter leaves, Tris can't help to glare as he walks away, calmly and cool like he owns every thing his foot lands on.
"Maybe we should tell someone," Christina suggest, shifting uncomfortably. Will shakes his head.
"Better to just wait it out," he says. "Elea hasn't hurt anyone yet. She's fine."
"I'm worried about Peter," Al says, accusing.
"Yeah," Christina agrees, nodding. "You saw the look he gave."
Tris stays quiet until dinner is over. Her hand grazes over her tattoo, thinking about voices and how maybe being here is a good thing for Elea. Maybe she could overcome her fear. Or her demons.
Normal POV
I sit on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest. The goosebumps on my arms made me realize it was a lot colder than I had thought. I gaze at the wall, pouting.
What did Will mean? He couldn't possibly, even as a past Erudite, have a clue what I go through. And I don't want to know his opinions, even with the digging curiosity in the back of my head.
Maybe they were making fun of you?
Probably.
It's only natural, Elea. Even the Amity couldn't help but to gossip.
I believe you.
Pathetic.
I rest my forehead on my knees ignoring the uncomfortable feeling growing in my spine.
I want to cry, but I feel like I've already done that enough. Everyone trying to diagnose me, Peter, Eric, everything... It is beginning to be too much for me. When will it end?
Eric. I think about him. I think about how he congratulated my win, how he humiliated me twice, and how he can stand so tall above me. Eric is tall, but so isn't most men, but something about his height makes me feel small. A mouse. I'm a mouse and he's a cat, tormenting me.
And what the hell did he mean by my temper? I don't have a temper, I think, hugging my knees tighter.
"Hey." I look up to see Peter wearing a look of sympathy. He bites his lip before sitting on Tris' bed next to me. He smiles softly, and suspicion grows in me. I shuffle away.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," he says, reaching for a strand of my hair. I let him, and he smiles as he touches it. "I am sorry, you know?"
I look him in the eyes. He has to be telling the truth. No Candor lies.
He could be.
No.
His fingers caresses my cheek, and its uncomfortable.
"I wouldn't trust your friends, you know? As soon as you leave they start talking about you."
Believe him.
"I know I'm an ass, but I would never say the things they do."
My eyes widen and I raise my brow. He frowns, tangling his fingers with my own. I let them stay like that, but it doesn't prevent me from shaking. I feel my breathing to tighten and my heart beat rising.
Touching is weird and I still don't like it. My body is stiff.
"Are you okay?" I nod. "Tomorrow, why don't you stick with me?"
I look down at our intertwined hands, waiting for the drop to fall. It does, landing on his hand, but Peter doesn't seem to mind.
The tear isn't just a tear. It signifies all the betrayal and heartache I feel. The few people I thought were okay and that I could possibly open to one day betrayed me.
And this is why you're stupid.
I know.
Peter leans in resting his forehead to mine before placing a small peck to my cheek.
Startled, I pull away, puffy eyed and red nosed. I return to my safe place against the wall hugging my knees.
"Goodnight, Elea," he says.
Nothing more. He leaves me be in the comfort of my own company.
He touched me. His lips touched me. I touch my warm cheek and rub any evidence of him off. It's tainted. Peter doesn't realize how much he's ruined me in the last few minutes. I feel more alone and scared, but also dirty.
In the bathroom, I examine my face. There is no mark, but it doesn't change the one I feel on the inside. With warm water I wash the spot until its sore and red.
But I don't just feel dirty there, but everywhere. My skin crawls and itches.
Morning comes a lot quicker than I'd like. Peter wakes when I do and he insists on walking with me to breakfast. I'm not very fond of his company, taking many detours in the pit to lose him, but he's fast.
He sits next to me, one leg swung over, smiling as I sip at water. He caresses my cheek, the same one he made disgusting.
"Aren't you going to eat?" He handed me a corn muffin. "Here."
I hesitantly take it, eating it slow and aware. Molly sits down, and looks at me with one eye raised.
"Hi...?"
Peter swings his other leg over and talks to Molly. I lose interest and start watching Tris and Christina.
They smile to me and start talking. Figures.
I told you.
Yes, I get it.
After breakfast, me and Peter walk to the training room. Peter points to score board.
"Look at that," Peter spits. "Edward got first, but I'm second. You're fourth!"
But you lost? You should be down. And four? I won! I am not happy! I look over at Eric while he calmly sharpens a knife.
Fourth.
Tris is last, dead last and I feel bad even though she doesn't care about me.
"And you're fighting Will!"
I look over at Peter and nod. Will looks upset and wary about the pairing.
"And you're going first!" Peter pats my shoulder to the point I stumble a little.
Will and I meet at the mat. He looks nervous, but smiles anyway. I shake with fury as Peter's words circle my head and don't leave. Also, the nerve Will has to act as if he's my therapist. I'm fine.
Keep saying that.
"Go!" Four says, and Will does.
He's quick, slick with his movements as he throws the first punch. I move enough for the punch to graze my cheek. I try to do what Eric said yesterday, but Will trips me to the mat.
"Gah!" I scream out in agony as his foot collides with my ribs. I put my hand up unintentionally to make him stop, but he kicks me again til I roll over. Shaking, I clutch my stomach, coughing blood.
Eric doesn't say anything. Will doesn't kick me again as I get up. I swing my fist to his nose and then to his stomach.
"Shit!" he cries. I think I have the fight in my pocket until he slams his head into mine.
My vision doubles, before everything disappears and leaves me temporary blind. I feel someone pick me up bridal style, and carry me.
"It's alright," they say. "Let's get you to the infirmary, hippie."
AUTHOR NOTE: thank you for reading and reviewing! It means alot!
what is Peter playing at? Hmmmm
Her name is pronounced Ella! :)
Happy reading! Please leave reviews. I liked writing this chapter.
PLEASE tell me what you think of peter, whats he up to, and how you felt about his action!