AUTHOR'S NOTE:Hello guys. For readers who have managed to stumble upon this story twice, I am sorry I took it down without any notice or information. This story used to be called "The Calls of His Heart". Now, the essence of the story is the same, but mostly it is a completely different story. While maybe you have never looked for it again, I just want to inform you that reading back, I hated the direction the story was going in, the way I was writing and the amount of useless information I was giving. I hope you like this much better. I welcome any reviews and PMs you have regarding this story, or regarding anything and I would appreciate if you would take some time to tell me what you guys think of this story and ways you would think this could be improved. Also, any ideas, questions or suggestions you have regarding this story can be asked through PM or reviewing. While I don't care much about follows or favorites, I would like to know that you guys like my work (although reviews will definitely be appreciated more).
The guest reviewers will be answered in these notes I will leave in every chapter at the end of it, and the other reviewers will be answered through PM. If there is a question widely asked by people, I would post it so I don't have to answer it again and again.
Now as for the schedule of my updating, it will be quite a long time between updates since I am a busy person. I would try to update at least once a month. I am sorry if you guys don't appreciate it, but I hope you guys understand. Thank you so much for reading this enormous note.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Divergent Series.
PROLOGUE
I never thought that a single event, a single night, could change my life. I never thought that losing someone could have such a profound impact. And I never thought that the one person who has loved me unconditionally, who has loved me from as long as I remember, will one day be snatched away from me by the cold, painful truth of death.
But I also never thought that from the event that caused me ineffable pain, I could find friendship and love so profound and so deep, that I felt our very souls rejoiced when we met. I never thought that a stranger could make the difference in my life when I never give the power of my life to anyone. I never thought that the agonizing pain of death could be eased away by the sweet, yearning love that life offers.
I was 12, and she, 10. I had walked away after the funeral, calm, composed, politely letting Marcus know that I was going for a walk, my voice strong, the sound seemingly unaffected by the lump in my throat, my posture seemingly indifferent towards the death of my mother.
Reaching the park, I sat under the tree, staring at the ground and a tear rolled down. Then, another rolled down and another and another. A sob escaped me and I let it, and the dam finally broke as my sobs and cries knew no bounds.
"Why are you crying?" I heard an innocent, young voice ask, her innocent, young voice, and I wiped the tears away, looking away, my tears giving way to my curiosity, as I stared at the girl with long blonde hair. Her intriguing eyes were blue-gray, like the sky during the storm, holding the dreamy tint, which held a speck of wonder, innocence shining in them.
"Did someone hurt you? Did the erudite bully you?" She continued, asking potential reasons for my sobbing. "Don't worry, I will teach them a lesson. It's bad to make someone cry."
She looked expectantly at me, but I blinked in confusion and shock. I blinked again, before I shook my head. "No", I replied, my voice hoarse and coarse from the crying. "It's not that."
"What is it, then?"
"Why do you care?" I scowled, blaming her for interrupting my mourning. Can't I just have some time alone to grieve for my mother?
"Because you are sad, and Mom says it is selfless and Abnegation-like to held sad or needy people. I will make my Mom proud of me."
"My m-mom", I said, stuttering a little, the words escaping involuntarily. "She died."
"You are the son of Marcus Eaton and Evelyn Eaton", she said, blinking in surprise.
I nodded in affirmative, tilting my head, looking at her with a curious gaze, my sobs and tears forgotten.
"I have a cousin", she started and I gazed at her intensely, sniffling slightly, wondering where she is going with it. "He is 2 years older than me, and he was born in Erudite. His dad is dead, and his mom had an accident which resulted in her being in coma for 3 years. He stayed with us till he went back a week ago when his mother recovered. If he can learn to laugh despite all his problems, you can too. I believe you are strong enough. Maybe all you need is a little help."
I nodded, though I didn't agree. My life is too messed up, and too much was on stake for me to think of making friends. I tried to ignore the slightest twinge of warmth in my chest when she said she believed in me. But what if Marcus found out about it? What if the beatings I got wouldn't only be limited to me? Suddenly, a vision, a dreadful, cruel vision, that would take my sleep my away from me for months, if not years, flashed before me, and I shuddered, the image of the kind girl, whose name I had not yet known, lying beaten with the Belt on the floor of my house, haunting me, slowly consuming me.
"Tobias?" The sweetest sound of my name made me snap out of the excruciatingly painful vision I saw of the bloody, limp, body of the girl.
She gave me a hesitant look. "That's your name, right?"
I nodded. "Tobias Eaton", I confirmed, thoroughly confused by the sudden urge to demand her to call me by my name, to listen to the soft, melodic sound it seemed to produce. What was this strange power she had over me, this curious yearning only she seemed to bring out in me?
"I am Beatrice Prior. My brothers, though, call me Bea. You can call me that, if you want."
"Bea, it suits you", I replied.
"My big brother, cousin actually, gave me that nickname."
"Why do you call your cousin your brother?"
"He feels like it", she replied, smiling, a certain fondness in her smile that reflected in her captivating blue gray eyes. "He protects me."
I tilted my head, feeling a strange yearning to feel that. Not only protected from the dangers of life that I had been exposed to far too soon, in Mom's opinion at least, but also feeling that care and love for someone enough to want to protect them. After all, no one made me feel responsible of them, or protective.
I had glanced thoughtfully at the girl, Bea, as she had babbled on about her brother and cousin, the rambling more comforting than annoying. This weird emotion that made me want to get close to her, made me fear for her safety, made me terrified at the mere thought of a scratch on her, what was it? How can a girl who just knocked on the door of my bruised life, politely but forcefully entering, had made me yearn for something I didn't comprehend? Is it the fire in her eyes that I was just noticing? Or the enchanting talks that made me sit here in this park with her which seemed more like the Garden of Eden, she the apple tree and every touch I yearned the apple? Or the sweet melody that seems to ring into my ears when she speaks, the sudden burning warmth when her lips forms the name I call mine? Or is it something else entirely, something I couldn't see, didn't see? Could it be all? Could it be none?
"…I have to go", she seemed to have been saying and I snapped out to refocus on her at the words.
"Can't we talk some more?" I found myself asking before wincing when I saw the fleeting look of surprise flash over her pretty features.
"I am sorry. My parents would be getting worried. And wouldn't your Dad be getting worried too? How about we talk more some other day?"
"Maybe", I replied, not having the heart to say a downright 'no' to her hopeful eyes, though I knew without a shadow of doubt that this will not be a normal occurrence. I will not let anyone know about this weird yearning nor what she could possibly mean to me, especially Marcus. Maybe a few selfish moments…
I was pleasantly cut off when I felt small arms wrap around my neck, and I closed my eyes instinctively, inhaling in her scent of strawberries and chocolate. My arms reached up and I put my hands gently on her lower back. My eyes were still closed, and I suppressed the sigh of content that was embarrassingly threatening to escape, trying to commit to memory the intoxicating scent that lingered around her.
She pulled away too soon, and her face reddened like a tomato and I suppressed the small grin into a small smile, the blush on her face making her look more beautiful. Every second I spend with her made me think of her more and more.
"I am sorry", she murmured. "I didn't know what compelled me to do that. It was like something told me to. Never mind."
"I liked it", I blurted out, mentally wincing when I saw her surprised look.
"Me too", she whispered, blushing. "But let's keep it between us."
"Of course", I nodded, understanding her reluctance. Physical contact or any sort of affection, really, has always been frowned upon in Abnegation.
She smiled gratefully at me, her blush not quite gone, before she stood up, dusting her clothes off, and I followed.
"Bye, Tobias", she said, before dashing away towards the residential area of the Abnegation sector.
"Bye", I whispered into the empty park, before I sighed, walking towards my own house.
That night, Marcus' grief was too profound for him to really focus on taking his anger out on me. I sighed in relief as I sat on the window sill in my bedroom, clutching tightly the photo of Mom and I, the only one I have of hers. It was uncommon for Abnegation members to have photos of anyone, considering it selfishness, but Mom and I always had a rebellious streak. We never quite fit in. Maybe it was because of the abuse or maybe it was just how we were.
In moments like these, when I had nothing particular to do, when it was just Mom and me, and after her death, just me, I liked to close my eyes, thinking up of a life, where every morning, Marcus, who I would have called 'Dad' would go to his office, a sweet look of love passing between them, and reminding me to be selfless and good, to help those who need it, where Dad would teach me about the ropes of being an Abnegation, maybe someday being a leader. The imagined, stolen moments made me look at Marcus a second too longer, trying to figure out where I went wrong, whether he would tell me so I could be the perfect son, so I could try to fit in, so the stolen moments I imagined weren't stolen anymore, weren't imagined anymore and sometimes, these moments made me look at myself a moment longer, trying to figure whether all along, it was he who was wrong, and whether I had the guts to say that maybe I am not the useless creature he makes me out to be, but rather the glasses through which he views me is foggy with fog of his ignorance.
I looked out of the window, resting my head on the side of the window pane, as I looked up at the stars, who were shining brightly. I briefly glanced down, my eyes widening when I noticed Bea, as I quickly hid myself, not entirely sure why.
And just like that, through the night till she sat, gazing at the stars, I watched her from behind the curtains, fascinated by her little habits- Her biting her lip or the inside of her cheek, running a hand through her hair, drumming her fingers, to name a few. Her eyes never strayed once from the beautiful fireballs that hung in the dark, searching for something. Maybe she was searching for the stories which were beyond the distant stars, looking for an escape in the unworldly enigmas, the way I spend innumerable nights listening and reading to the stories that are unspeakable, unreadable, intangible.
And thus started the story of my life, the significant part, the worth-remembering part, at least, one which I hope will be written among the stories I read which hangs in the sky, welcoming anyone who reads them in the blinking of light in the darkness.
My name is Tobias Eaton and this is my story.
AUTHOR'S NOTE-I am sorry you have to read this annoyingly long messages. I hope you guys like the Prologue. The next Chapter will be longer and I hope you guys hang around for it. The Point of View's in this story will keep switching from people to people, depending on the situation and scene. Majority of it would be Four, though. Either way, please do tell me how you felt about this starting. I don't mind criticism and I definitely don't mind compliments.