"What the hell do you want, Four?" I hiss his name between my teeth. He just scoffs and rolls his eyes. "...well?"

"Do you realize how reckless you can be? What made you think it was actually a good idea to just go in there especially in the shape you're in?" he interrogates me as if this is a parent-child conversation.

"I never said I thought it was a good idea."

He starts to pinch the bridge of his nose again. "Then why the hell did you do it?"

"I don't know. Something was going on there, I was curious, and I went. It isn't the hardest thing to believe." I conclude.

"Yes, it isn't hard to believe. But did it ever occur to you that your cover could've been blown if I weren't there to save you?" he asks looking into my eyes.

"Ya well, you also made me look like an idiot so I wouldn't consider a 'Thank you' appropriate."

He rolls his eyes and hisses, "Okay, so you'd rather have people know you're abused than know you're an idiot. Alright, noted."

I grab his arm. "You know that isn't what I meant," I state. "Maybe you could just do it without making me sound like a fool."

He removes his arm from my grasp, rather harshly. "I'm not even supposed to be helping you in the first place. Now that I have, you're taking me for granted. This is the only way it could work. Do you not understand that? I hate you and you hate me. If I were to say something such as, 'Aww leave the poor girl alone. We've already done too much with her.' don't you think that'd arouse suspicion? And you know what? I only stick up for you when it comes to abuse...other than that I really don't give a fuck."

"Okay, I understand where you're coming from with that, and I know this doesn't change anything so of course you'd want your fair share of making fun of me. But I never asked you to do this. I can take care of myself. And when did you have time to come up with all that 'sticking up but still have to hate you'? Again, I know you hate me and that you'd want to do that, but it seriously sounds like you've given it some thought."

"Maybe I have. And I seriously would appreciate a 'Thank you' for everything that I'm doing for you. Even if you still keep insisting that you can take care of yourself." He rolls his eyes at the last part.

"Thank you," I mutter under my breath. He stares at me shocked. "But I can still take care of myself."

He mutters under his breath, "And there it is."

"Have you received any text from Matthew yet?"

He never texted me on Thursday like he was supposed to...and he still hasn't and it's Saturday.

"Something came up. Just don't worry about, okay? He told us to trust him, because he has it all under control remember?" He states more than asks while putting his hands on my shoulders.

I slap them off. "Don't touch me," I hiss. He holds his hands up in surrender which actually causes me to crack a smile. "Hey about the trip thing-" I'm cut off before I can finish.

"I'm not allowed to tell you anything else. I'm pretty sure you figured out by now that Tori didn't ask me to tell you," he smirks cockily.

"Oh would you let me finish?" I snap. "I was just wondering when it's happening." He furrows his eyebrows in thought.

"Probably this Friday...and for the record, I probably shouldn't have told you that also."

We stay in a comfortable silence and because he chased me back to the lima bean and I have an interesting passion for scaling it...I climb and sit on top it. Then I remember Uri and Mar are a couple.

"Hey, I can't go back there so can you do me a favor?" He looks my way, silently urging me to continue. "Can you bring Marlene and if Lynn is there bring her too? And then you can go back to Nita...and Lauren...and Molly," I smirk.

He comes to stand between my legs. "And what will I get in return?"

I look down at his hands on my thighs. "You wouldn't want your twelve-year-old little sister, and she wouldn't want you," I whisper, putting my face in my hands and bringing his cocky behavior to an end for now.

I feel his warmth leave me so I look up only to be met with his retreating figure. I'm not sure if he's going to call them for me, but I can only hope. Even if hope is a dangerous thing. I've learned one thing about it: Hope is both danger and blessing. You hope for things, you'll be extra happy when they occur...and when they don't, well...you hope for things you get disappointed. Hope carries a symptom of being extremely disapointed if it doesn't end up in your favor, but if you decide to take the risk, and it does end up in your favor...you realize it was worth it all along. If it doesn't...you come to the conclusion that hope only breaks you, which it does.

All that depressing talk just makes me want to bury my head further into my hands...it made its way back there when I saw him leaving me.

"Hey Tris!" I hear Marlene yell, coming closer and closer. At least he gave me my request. "What did you want to talk about?"

I wonder if Four actually went to her and told her that I want to see her, or if he discreetly got her to talk to me without her knowing he was just with me. I search her face to find the answer and see that it's the latter. I internally sigh. Because he gave me Marlene I'm guessing he didn't give me Lynn due to her not being there.

"You and Lynn...don't really seem happy about Chris, Will, and Al coming back. Why?"

She sighs and takes a deep breath before answering, "Tris, you're desperate for your friends back, you really don't want shit, and I understand that. All of it, really. But me and Lynn...and Uriah, though he doesn't show it...aren't exactly ready to accept them with welcoming arms. That's all. We just have to learn to forgive them like you did and I'm sorry that it won't be happening as quick as yours."

I nod my head in understanding. "I totally get it. I just..I'm the one to blame for all of this and I really want things to be normal. Thank you for being honest and understanding, though."

She smiles at me. "No problem."

We hug for a long time and then she goes back to where she came from and I decide to go back to Ian's.

I'm standing in front of his door right now. I open it quietly hoping to get in and upstairs without him knowing but unfortunately there seems to be a silhouette of a man with a belt in his hand right in front of me.

"Would you care to explain where you were at 3:08 AM? Oh wait, let me guess. It was with that boy you were kissing the other day, wasn't it?"

So that's the time. And he seriously needs to stop obsessing over that.

"I went out for a jog."

He eyes me up and down. "You went for a jog like that? What if someone were to see you?"

He's definitely fuming. If this were a cartoon, his face would be devil red and steam would be escaping his nose and ears.

"I don't think many people are up at this time. Plus, it's dark outside. It'd be pretty hard to see my bruises and scars your belt left on me," I probably shouldn't have said that but I'm feeling a little defiant.

"Have you not been taught manners, you pathetic little girl?" He hisses.

"And you have? I don't think it's considered mannerly to hit people!" I shout at him.

He slaps me hard across the face. Right then and there all my bravery disperses.

He grabs me by the hair (which is still in a ponytail, if I may add) and throws me across the room. This is usually the part where I take off my shirt to reveal a tank top and a few times my bra, but this time he and I both know I have nothing under so he sticks with hitting me like this and getting my shirt all stained. Each whip: another scar. Thankfully, these scars will heal over time, but a scar still takes forever to fully go away. My "Imperfection" scar is still not budging, but I don't regret it one bit. I'm too tired today to actually give him much of a fight, so I just let unconsciousness surround me, and the darkness take me.

I wake up on the floor and take in my surroundings. It's a good thing I knew better than to hope it was a dream. I see a note and my body stands up and has my feet carry me there.

Dear Beatrice,

I had to go to work. While I'm gone, I trust you can take care of yourself and that you won't engage in activity (whether appropriate or not) with your boyfriend. Remember, you have to be responsible. And you're only 14. Anyway, you can cook so I didn't leave anything in the fridge. Don't start rummaging through it trying to find something. There's nothing more to say, really. You already know your "do's and don'ts".

-Ian

Well, at least now I have a head start on the preparing food thing. And seriously, does this dickhead actually believe I have a boyfriend...that I've already given my virginity to..? Leave it to him to make a bunch of false accusations. Anyway, I'm seriously in the mood for some lasagna so I get started on it.

I ate dinner in silence and now I'm finishing up washing the dishes. I decide to go to bed early, mostly because I'm in no mood to have to deal with a beating. Well, I'm never in the mood, but now I just wouldn't be able to take it. I didn't leave food for him, if you were wondering. I have too much dignity to do that. I already took a shower and had to replace the gauze due to him beating me again and messing it up. I change into my pajamas and curl into bed.

I look from Al's wide, dark eyes to his shaking hands to the determined set of Four's jaw. Anger bubbles in my chest, and bursts from my mouth: "Stop it."

Four turns the knife in his hand, his fingers moving painstakingly over the metal edge. He gives me such a hard look that I feel like he's turning me to stone. I know why. I am stupid for speaking up while Eric is here; I am stupid for speaking up at all.

"Any idiot can stand in front of a target," I say. "It doesn't prove anything except that you're bullying us. Which, as I recall, is a sign of cowardice."

"Then it should be easy for you," Eric says. "If you're willing to take his place."

The last thing I want to do is stand in front of that target, but I can't back down now. I didn't leave myself the option. I weave through the crowd of initiates, and someone shoves my shoulder.

"There goes your pretty face," hisses Peter. "Oh, wait. You don't have one."

I recover my balance and walk toward Al. He nods at me. I try to smile encouragingly, but I can't manage it. I stand in front of the board, and my head doesn't even reach the center of the target, but it doesn't matter. I look at Four's knives: one in his right hand, two in his left hand.

My throat is dry. I try to swallow, and then look at Four. He is never sloppy. He won't hit me. I'll be fine.

I tip my chin up. I will not flinch. If I flinch, I prove to Eric that this is not as easy as I said it was; I prove that I'm a coward.

"If you flinch," Four says, slowly, carefully, "Al takes you place. Understand?"

I nod.

Four's eyes are still on mine when he lifts his hand, pulls his elbow back, and throws the knife. It is just a flash in the air, and then I hear a thud. The knife is buried in the board, half a foot away from my cheek. I close my eyes. Thank God.

"You about done, Stiff?" asks Four.

I remember Al's wide eyes and his quiet sobs at night and shake my head. "No."

"Eyes open, then." He taps the spot between his eyebrows.

I stare at him, pressing my hands to my sides so no one can see them shake. He passes a knife from his left hand to his right hand, and I see nothing but his eyes as the second knife hits the target above my head. This one is closer than the last one-I feel it hovering over my skull.

"Come on, Stiff," he says. "Let someone else stand there and take it."

Why is he trying to goad me into giving up? Does he want me to fail?

"Shut up, Four!"

I hold my breath as he turns the last knife in his hand. I see a glint in his eyes as he pulls his arm back and lets the knife fly. It comes straight at me, spinning, blade over handle. My body goes rigid. This time, when it hits the board, my ear stings, and blood tickles my skin. I touch my ear. He nicked it.

And judging by the look he gives me, he did it on purpose.

"I would love to stay and see if the rest of you are as daring as she is," says Eric, his voice smooth, "but I think that's enough for today."

He squeezes my shoulder. His fingers feel dry and cold, and the look he gives me claims me, like he's taking ownership of what I did. I don't return Eric's smile. What I did had nothing to do with him.

"I should keep my eye on you," he adds.

Fear prickles inside me, in my chest and in my head and in my hands. I feel like the word "DIVERGENT" is branded on my forehead, and if he looks at me long enough, he'll be able to read it. But he just lifts his hand from my shoulder and keeps walking. Four and I stay behind. I wait until the room is empty and the door is shut before looking at him again. He walks toward me.

"Is you-" he begins.

"You did that on purpose!" I shout.

"Yes, I did," he says quietly. "And you should thank me for helping you."

I grit my teeth. "Thank you? You almost stabbed my ear, and you spent the entire time taunting me. Why should I thank you?"

"You know, I'm getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on!"

He glares at me, and even when he glares, his eyes look thoughtful. Their shade of blue is peculiar, so dark it is almost black, with a small patch of lighter blue on the left iris, right next to the corner of his eye.

"Catch on? Catch on to what? That you wanted to prove to Eric how tough you are? That you're sadistic, just like he is?

"I am not sadistic." He doesn't yell. I wish he would yell. It would scare me less. He leans his face close to mine, which reminds me of lying inches away from the attack dog's fangs in the aptitude test, and says, "If I wanted to hurt you, don't you think I would have already?"

He crosses the room and slams the point of a knife so hard into the table that it sticks there, handle toward the ceiling.

"I-" I start to shout, but he's already gone. I scream, frustrated, and wipe some of the blood from my ear.

I have seriously got to stop landing with a thud on the floor. I don't know what the hell my dream was about, and I'm in no mood to care either. At least the dream got one thing correct: Four is a confusing asshole. And this explains the things that happened in my previous dream. Right now, though, I'm going back to sleep. I can deal with shit tomorrow.

There you go! Teehee. I know this was shorter than my usual, but hey the next chapter will be very interesting. Promise. Or at least I hope it is so I'll have to take the promise thing back. Anyway, I feel as if I don't add too much hate though there's supposed to be a lot of hate...so how should I improve that?