Taura's POV

My back slid down the stone wall excruciatingly slow. I'm drunk. I'm high. Yet I'm sober. Everything was crystal clear, there was no drunk haze distracting me from reality and the complications of my life.

I feel numb.

2am. Everyone is probably on a manhunt for me right, orchestrated by Raul or Peter. I don't want them to find me. I don't want anyone to. What I need to do is process everything that happened yesterday. My encounter with my father and… last night, which I don't wish to think about, but some memories refuse to leave. Sam is like ink; once he leaves his marks, they never leave no matter how much ice you put on them. I know this from experience, he's just like the other men, they have no other motivation then to watch you squirm under their presence. So, you try not to squirm and act like an adult, but they still manage to worm they're way in. You just have to sit and wait, dreading your next encounter, knowing it lies just around the corner.

A single tear hit the back of my hand and that's the first time I notice the thousands of other tears falling from my bruised eyes. My whole face was black and blue and the wound on my lip was dripping blood (again) down my chin and neck. There were scratch marks all up my arms and legs, some even going deeper than the skin. My thighs were bright red, with small green bruises appearing in some places, they were so sore. My clothes were torn, one sleeve to my shirt was completely ripped off and there were several holes dotted about. What have I done?

"Hey." A voice echoed down the corridor. I turn my head slightly to see Eric walking towards me. Oh no. "Taura? What on earth are you doing down here at this hour?"

"Just leave me alone."

"I need to- my god!" He gasped, and for once I see an emotion on his face. It was shock. His entire body went stiff. I must look worse than I thought.

"It's bad isn't it?" I say.

"Bad is a fucking understatement, what the hell have you been doing?"

"Everything I could." I whisper, running my hands over the scratches.

I look up at Eric and see him gulp before sticking a hand out towards me.

"Peters been looking for you." He can't find me.

"I'm not going to him yet, he can't see me like this Eric. He will freak out."

"No shit Sherlock, I almost had a heart attack!" Yeah right.

"Stop acting like you care. We already had this conversation."

"I may strongly dislike you, but not enough to leave you out here looking like this." I eye him suspiciously. "Come on; your clearly drunk, tired and frightened. Let's get you a coffee and you can sleep on my couch. I'll tell Peter where you are." I shouldn't trust him. I shouldn't trust anyone right now. But I feel I have no choice. I take his hand, my own tremoring rapidly. He grips it firmly and helps me onto my feet. I feel like I can barely walk, my legs almost completely numb. Eric's hand let's go of mine and I struggle to find my balance, falling back against the wall. I feel Eric's hand quickly go to my waist, hiking me back up and against him. My body instantly rejects it, pushing him off me, sending me back against the wall.

"D-don't… just let me walk." I tell him.

"And you can manage that?" He gives me a pointed look.

"Yes." He looks at me for a while, with his pierced brow raised.

"Mmm no you can't. Just let me carry you, okay or it will be 2pm before we get anywhere near my apartment." I guess I have no choice in this, so I throw my hands to the side in defeat and Eric swiftly lifts me up with ease and began to walk down the hallway.

"You're a pain in the ass Daniels." He sighs.

"You didn't have to help me you know, I expected you to just walk past me."

"Im not completely heartless you know."

"You come pretty close though." I hear him chuckle slightly. I'm still not entirely sure how much I trust Eric, or should trust him, but right now I don't have any other options but to let myself adapt to the idea. Even after all the times he's been rotten to me, somehow, he's the only one whose been completely there for me in the rough patches. The day I disappeared. Defending me against Four. My seizure. Babysitting me. And now this.

Maybe he's not so bad after all.

I feel my eyelids begin to flutter, opening and closing. I try to keep them open, keep my body in a state of conscious but the looming tiredness made it very difficult.

Eventually I gave up trying to resist and let sleep take over my body, leaving me asleep and vulnerable in Eric Coulter's, of all people, arms. This will not be fun.

HORNNNN. Immediately I shot up, the deafening blare waking me from a sleep. I was in a familiar room, yet I had no idea where I was. I was lied on a black leather couch with a white blanket draped lightly over my waist.

"What the hell was that for?!" It was only then when I heard Peter's voice that I was made aware of the three men surrounding me. Peter. . They all stood there staring blankly at me, or at least Eric was. Four had a look of confusion stretched across his features, while Peter looked like he'd seen a ghost – that ghost being me.

"Well I would love to see your methods of trying to wake her up in the morning!" Four says.

"It's not with an air horn that's for one!" I just sit there staring at a spot on the couch trying to regain my breath.

"What's going on?" I groan, my hand moving to my forehead to comfort the growing ache.

"Maybe that's something you would like to explain?" Peter says, placing a hand on my shoulder and drawing circles on my collar bone, it was comforting and a leaned towards it, resting my head against his arm.

"I don't understand." I say.

"Well did you get into a fight with a bull? Because that's currently my only conclusion." Four responds curtly. I look down and see my arms covered in bandages, which were now damp and red, my clothes were ripped in odd places; and I finally remember. I shrug Peter's hand off my shoulder and attempt to stand up before being pulled back to the couch by Peter, his hands gripped to my waist, this time him sitting down with me.

"You're not going anywhere until you explain what happened."

"What happened when?" I pretend to act dumb, hoping that they will brush it off as me being too drunk.

"Last night. I found you in the corridor, drunk and stoned, crying and shaking. I bought you back here to sleep." Damn it.

"Oh, right yeah…" I feel the tears stinging my eyes, "I um got into a fight with someone and… I lost." I put simply, rubbing the sides of my arms. Peter's grip tightened on my hips.

"A fight?" Four stared blankly at me.

"Well, Four its not unbelievable is it?" Eric smirks.

"Yeah, I know, but why?"

"I don't know, I was drunk."

"The why doesn't bother me, I want to know who." Peter snarls.

"I don't know who they were."

"Well what do they look like? He questions.

"I can't remember anything about what happened, honestly." I lie. I try to look him in the eye and smile, that's how you make it believable, but I couldn't, and I'm certain he noticed. I turn to look at the floor to hide my guilt for lying to him, I should be able to trust him, I should be able to tell him. Yet I can't.

"Okay." One of his hands moves to my thigh, and he stroked it soothingly.

"Can we go now, please?" I ask Peter, a tear pricking my eye. He looks me in the eye with sympathy, his mouth slightly agape.

"Yeah, of course." He says before taking my hand in his and standing up with me. I caught Four rolling his eyes at us, clearly still having an issue with my relationship.

We walk through the halls in silence, holding hands. Neither of us had anything to say, thankfully. I escaped talking about it for now. I don't think I will ever be ready to talk about it so I guess I just have to keep it quiet for a very long time.

We enter the apartment and I immediately curl into a ball on the couch, pulling my knees to my chest. Peter stood staring at for a moment before wandering into his-our- bedroom, leaving me to dwell on yesterday's events.

Why would my father come after me like that? I thought his intentions were always to get rid of me, and he had, I moved to Dauntless and he still followed me. It's like everything I do can't take me away from the horror I experienced in amity. As if my fate is to suffer worse than the factionless or be factionless.

"Here put this on." Peter walks back in with a jumper which I guess is his. He crouches down in front of me and pulls on my legs to get me to sit up in front of him. I just stare at the floor while he stares at me, holding his jumper under my nose. I take it from his hands and slip it over my head and a wave of comfort washes over me. I feel safe. As if when Peter is around, nothing can hurt me which I know now is part true. I pull the end of the sleeves over my hands to keep them warm and go to pull my legs back to my chest but Peter pulls them back down with his hands. They gripped my thighs. It brings back too many bad memories.

I don't like it.

So, I roughly shove his hands away and shuffle myself backwards on the couch until my legs finally touch my chest.

Peter stares at me in shock with his hands at the side of his head like a surrender. "Hey, calm down I'm not going to hurt you, I just wanted to talk."

"Oh...um yeah s-sorry." I stammer trying to relax again but my hands won't stop shaking. I could see Peter observe me before standing up and sitting next to me, this time giving me more space than usual.

"You sure your alright, you've been acting really jumpy?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, im fine." I give him a fake smile before turning away.

"Okay." An awkward silence looms over us both for a minute before Peter speaks up again, "so why did you end up in the halls last night?"

"I told you, I got into- "

He cuts me off, "no I mean the real reason Taura."

"That is the real reason." I try to put on an act.

"Cut the crap, you don't seriously think you could get a lie through me."

"I- "

"I'm candor born, it's my super power." He smirks.

"It's every Candors super power." I remind him.

"It's every Amity's superpower to smile, yet I've never seen a real one from you."

"Amity's superpower is to act, smiling is just the performance." I tell him, looking him in the eye.

"I guess you didn't take acting classes then?" That manages to draw a giggle out of me, lifting the apples of my cheeks.

"I actually went to a theatre school."

"Really?"

"Yeah, my mum enrolled me as a child, I stayed on until I could no longer go." I smile weakly, remembering the times when she was still here. My mother was a beautiful woman, she had deep brown eyes and brown hair. She worked in the farmhouse caring for the animals, often she would let me go to work with her and we'd spend her break horse riding in the back fields. I loved her, and she loved me. Like a mother and daughter should. I assume my father had something to do with her death but I was never told by the authorities or my family. Her death is still a mystery to me, a mystery that I want closure on, so I can heal the wound left in my heart.

"You see this is the type of stuff I did not know about you, because you haven't told me!"

"Well it's not necessarily key information." I snicker.

"I don't know I'm pretty intrigued." He grins, leaning himself against the armrest.

"It's nothing really that special, I studied dance and drama but- "

"You can dance?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, don't act so surprised!"

"Show me." He smirks, patting his lap lightly.

"I apologise but I wasn't trained in lap dance!" I giggle.

"But the skills are transferable right?"

"I suppose, but no, you're not getting a lap dance off me."

"Fine, fine. What did you train in then?" He cocks a side smile.

"Um ballet, jazz, theatre, street, country etc. It was kind of mixed." Peter stares at me for a while with a grin on his face.

"That's hot." He winks at me and it makes me blush. I just giggle and roll my eyes at him. "So, are you going to tell me what actually happened last night?" I should have seen that one coming. He seriously just tried to manipulate me.

"Ha ha, that's funny." I see his face drop. "You cheer me up and then try and get me to talk. Nice try Peter." I scoff, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

"I know you didn't get into a fight, but something pretty bad must have happened and I want to know."

"You wouldn't understand." I warn him, leaning my back against the kitchen counter and opening the water.

"You're not giving me a chance to understand." He stands up and walks towards me with a disgruntled look on face. I don't understand why he's so eager to know, well I do but I can't relate to his persistent digging for the truth. My answer is just as good as any answer. Maybe it's a candor thing.

"Why should I give you a chance to understand, if no one else has ever or will understand." Peter frowns and rests his hands on my hips, pulling me towards him. I don't want to cause any more suspicion, so I just suck in the fear and place my hands against his arms.

"No one else has to understand, just me." He soothes, rubbing his hands over my hips. I know I can trust Peter with anything, I can tell him anything and he won't judge me or jump to conclusions. For example, he knows I'm married yet is still willing to have a relationship with me and I can't even tell him the truth. "Whoever has done this to you, won't even look at you again. I promise. But only if you tell me what happened"

A warm feeling fills me inside and I lean up to kiss him, placing my fingers along his jawline. He returns the kiss, his hands gripping my waist tighter and I feel safe again. I find security in Peter, even when the rest of my life is just a complete shamble I know he's the one stability in it. That's what makes me carry on.

Peters lips part from mine and he give me a disgruntled look, "you realise that seducing your way out of this will only work a few times, right?"

I laugh, dropping my hand "a few times?"

"Well I'm a guy, it's going to work at least once."

"Funny. But that's not what I was doing."

"That's disappointing…" he pulls my face back to his and places another kiss to my lips.

All of a sudden, the door swings open, startling both me and Peter. Christina (I think her name was) entered the apartment with a panicked look on her face.

"I really have got to get that lock fixed…" I hear Peter murmur and I side smile, remembering my first encounter with Sam.

Christina rushes up to us and grips my arm and I raise an eyebrow at her.

"What ya want, big mouth?" Peter mocks.

"I'm not here for you." She snarls. "Taura come on, it's Four!"

Four? Ay? It's unlikely for Four to get in some type of situation, let alone one that in needed for.

"Why what's going on?" I question while Christina drags out of the door.

"It's hard to explain, just hurry."