Thank you for all the positive feedback on the last chapter. Apparently you liked that Tobias took some precautions ;-).

I have to warn you before you start reading this chapter, as it contains Tris and Tobias drawing blood and mentions of violence and abuse, so if you're uncomfortable with any of that I suggest you skip (parts of) it.

Chapter 28

Tris

I pack some clothes to take with me to Tobias, so I will no longer wake up without having anything clean to wear. I also take the packet of chocolate I bought for him. Maybe I can't help him solving his problems, but I'll try my best to ease his pain a little. It's an old Abnegation habit to bring food over to neighbors or friends whenever they're going through tough times. Clearly, most of the time you wouldn't notice because they wouldn't say anything themselves, but sometimes it's obvious, for example when a family member gets sick or dies or transfers into another faction. I wonder briefly if anyone visited my parents on Choosing Day to show them their compassion by delivering food after both of their children had left their origins behind.

I shake off the thought, take both mine and Tobias' key and walk over the short distance to his apartment. But neither do I need to knock nor do I have to use the key. His door swings open when I'm just a few steps away, and my eyes go wide when I see who comes out — Uriah.

He freezes at seeing me.

"Uhm, Tris, hi. What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same."

"I was visiting Four, obviously. I, uhm, needed some advice for initiation, you know?"

How strange, I can't remember a situation in which he has ever seemed so uncomfortable.

Then Tobias appears at the doorstep. "Tris, you're early."

"Sorry, I didn't know this was a problem."

"It's not. I just offered Uriah my help with his fear simulations."

"Yeah, thanks again for the favor, Four," Uriah says before he turns and walks away.

I slip in behind Tobias and try to shake off the feeling that I'm missing something here. He'll tell me later if it's important. After all, he asked me to come over to talk to me.

"So how was your day, apart from training? Did you get a chance to talk to Eric?" I begin.

We sit down on his sofa together and Tobias fills me in on the status of his request to use peace serum and shortly tells me everything worked out fine in the infirmary.

"So I suppose we have to draw each other's blood tonight?" I ask.

"Yes, but we could also keep that for tomorrow if you're too exhausted from training. I don't want you to pass out by taking too much blood."

"No, I prefer doing it tonight. I'm not exactly fond of that, so I'd rather get it done sooner than later."

"Okay, then I'll get the equipment ready."

He gets up and tenderly kisses my forehead before going over to the kitchen counter where he rummages in a white paper bag. I swallow while I watch him prepare the needed items on his sofa table. I'm not exactly afraid of this, but nervous. We're both amateurs.

"Have you ever done this before?" I ask while Tobias goes over to the bathroom to wash his hands.

"Just once, today. Shauna briefed me on how to do it. Sorry I can't offer you more experience." He shrugs apologetically. "I think it's best if I start on you and explain the necessary steps, and then we switch positions."

"Okay. So, Doctor Eaton, how do we start?"

"You can stay seated on the sofa Miss Prior, just put your arm on the armrest. Yes, like that. And try to relax."

"I'm going to relax after we've done this," I smile, and he chuckles softly before he turns serious again.

"Okay, first I'll put this tourniquet around your upper arm. You should make a fist now, but don't pump it. Just keep it. Good. Now I'm trying to find a vein."

He runs his fingertips up and down my arm gently, and I lay back against the sofa and indeed relax a bit.

Then he taps my armpit with his fingertips. "Your veins become more visible like this."

He looks content and turns to put the needle into the holder and get the tubes ready. I watch him work in concentration. There's something about him when he's focused like this that I admire. He appears so professional, and I wonder if there's anything he's not good at.

"Why are you smiling so contently?" he asks once he's finished and turns back towards me.

"Cause you act like a real doctor."

"Well, we'll see about that in a minute," he says as he takes a seat on the chair that's standing opposite me. I lean back and close my eyes.

"You're not going to watch?"

"No. I don't mind seeing blood, unless it's my own. So you have to teach me the rest by explaining."

"That will do, it's not that difficult."

I prepare myself for the sting of a needle, but instead I feel Tobias' lips press down on the crook of my arm gently. He trails kisses down my forearm to my wrist, and I'm surprised that this part of my body is that sensitive. Sparkles start to prickle in my stomach despite the strange situation. I relax my hand and Tobias continues to my palm, kissing it and even flicking his tongue over my skin.

I moan softly. "I take back what I said. Now you're being completely unprofessional."

"But you like it." I feel his smile against my fingers as he kisses all my fingertips. "And now you're more relaxed."

"You could say that," I whisper.

I never knew he could inflict those feelings by simply kissing my hand. I don't like it when he stops, but his diversion has worked and I'm not nervous anymore. I trust him.

I feel a cold sensation when he wipes the crook of my arm with an antiseptic while he places his other hand around mine to fold it back into a fist with gentle pressure. When he inserts the needle into my vein, I'm surprised that it hurts much less than applying the fear serum. He unties the tourniquet, and I let him finish in silence.

"Okay, done," he says, less tense.

"If you don't want to be an instructor anymore, you could start working in the infirmary," I suggest.

"Yeah, except for my medical knowledge being restricted to drawing blood and treating minor injuries," he smiles.

"Oh, but your relaxation methods are probably unheard-of," I say and raise my hand to his mouth, so he can kiss my fingertips again.

He smiles as his lips graze over my skin. "This treatment is reserved only for very few patients."

"Very few?"

"Just one, actually."

It's unbelievable what he can do to my body with such little physical contact and just his eyes locked to mine.

I don't know if it's his tender caress or the loss of blood or the long day, but suddenly I start to feel dizzy.

"Tobias, can you get me some water, please? And a snack, if you have?"

"Sure," he says, and ten minutes, two glasses of water and a huge piece of chocolate later I feel normal again.

We switch seats and I prepare to draw his blood. He watches everything I do and explains more details.

"You don't seem nervous," I state.

"I'm not. I know you'll do fine, Tris. I tell you what to do, don't be afraid."

"You're my instructor anyway," I say and then concentrate on following his explanations.

I'm lucky and manage to pinch his vein right at the first attempt, and I'm relieved that he doesn't flinch. I fill three tubes with his blood before I push gauze on the puncture site to stop the bleeding before I carefully pull out the needle.

"Ready," I say with a sigh of relief.

"We could join the medical unit together," he smiles. "Some chocolate left for me?"

I reach for the unwrapped package on the table, break away a piece and feed it to him.

"The doctors in Abnegation should have given us chocolate after torturing us with needles, too," he says, his eyes closed in delight as he enjoys the sweet taste.

We stay on the sofa and eat all the chocolate, talking about nothing in particular, just about our day and our friends. Tobias is still sitting on one end while I am lying next to him on the couch, my head resting in his lap. I wonder if I should bring up last night, but I'm uncertain of his reaction. I think he's waiting for the right time, or so it feels to me, unless I'm misjudging the signs.

When the next pause in our conversation occurs, I resist filling it with words. Instead, I remain silent, giving him the opportunity to decide what he wants to talk about next.

"Tris," he begins after a long time. "I have to tell you something."

He sighs as he absentmindedly plays with his hand in my hair.

"I'm right here, Tobias."

I take his right hand in both of mine and lay it over my heart where I can comfortably caress it.

"I just don't know where to begin. I... I'm afraid you'll get angry at me for not telling you earlier."

"Tobias, whatever it is, you can tell me. Even if I get angry at you, I won't turn away. You have become far too important in my life to run away from you."

"Please promise you'll listen until I've finished and just let me talk."

"I promise."

"Okay, so you already know about my childhood. You've seen my fear landscape and my scars and you remember that my mother died when I was a child. But that's only like... the big headlines. There are... things... that I've never spoken about before, ever, to anyone."

He pauses.

"When I was young, and we were still living in Abnegation as a family, we seemed like all the others in our faction. Marcus spent a lot of energy on maintaining that image of perfection. But within our own four walls he was a different person. He was a tyrant.

My mother... she tried very hard to please him, to do everything to his contentment: Keep the house clean and tidy, cook his favorite food, raise me to obey him and to live up to his expectations. But sometimes... no, that's not true... often, it wasn't enough for him. He would get angry, very angry. Angry doesn't even begin to cover it. And then he would take it out on my mother. He used to make her look small with the insults he shot at her, and then he... he would slap her and punch her and kick her and... the worst nights, he used his belt on her. He outright tortured her.

I tried to avoid watching it if I could. I developed an intuitive perception for when it was about to start. The silence during dinner became my marker. If it was tense, Marcus was likely going to explode. He often started his assaults by accusing her of something she had done wrong. I can't really say what it was about anymore. It used to be a random choice. I remember I had the habit of staring at the clock above our door whenever I couldn't bear to watch him — or my mother — anymore. I would concentrate on it with all my childlike willpower, hoping time would pass quickly, so I could leave the room. There was nothing I could do to help her, and I hated that.

I usually had to do the dishes after dinner and I always tried to do it quickly if Marcus was angry. He used to shout at my mother in the living room while I was working in the kitchen. I tried to block it out, but I never fully managed. As soon as I was done, I would sneak up to my room, careful not to make any noises.

Once, I was so frightened by my mother's cries that I tripped over my own feet on the stairs and fell. It didn't go unnoticed. Marcus, he came out into the hall and shouted at me for being so inattentive, and I apologized and escaped into my room. But Marcus turned back on my mother and I heard him threaten her. He said... he would punish her for not raising me Abnegation enough. He said he would add my punishment on top of hers, so she'd remember to teach me to be better in the future.

Usually I closed the door behind me after reaching the deceptive shelter of my room, to tune down the volume of her cries. But that night, I... I couldn't. I felt responsible. I listened to him giving her orders. He made her take off her robe and stand against the wall. I heard the click of his belt — this sound when you click it open, you know? I hate that sound, and I hate that it still scares me. That night, I heard him bring the leather down on her skin twelve times. I still remember because I heard him count the lashes, and his voice was no longer angry, but calm instead. Like, threateningly calm. Frighteningly calm.

And I sat with my back against the wall, in my room that couldn't provide shelter from Marcus' cruelty. When he stopped, I thought the worst was over and I wouldn't have to hold my breath anymore with every blow of his belt. But then he said he'd add five more lashes, so she wouldn't forget about her motherly duties anymore.

It was the only time he hit her in the hallway, and only when I got older I realized that he did that because he wanted me to hear it.

And my mother, she suffered so much. She was trying to be strong, mostly for me, but I would frequently hear her cry when Marcus wasn't home and she thought I was asleep. Her screams of pain were more familiar to me than her laughter.

And one day, she left.

I remember all those people standing in our hallway, their voices low. I don't remember why I woke up, if it was just the dawn or the unusual sound of visitors in our house. I stopped halfway down the stairs to watch. I didn't dare to go down further and asked myself what was going on. I remember just standing there, afraid, and barefoot, until my feet got cold. When they spotted me on the stairs, the mumbling ebbed away and all their faces turned to me, and the attention scared me even more.

Then Marcus emerged from somewhere, I don't know where he came from. My memories of that day are a blur. We went to my room. I sat on my bed, and he sat on my chair and told me that my mother had passed away. I didn't have a concept of death back then and I didn't understand the consequence of his words.

I spent the day alone, more or less. People came to check on me every now and then, strangers; people from the council, friends and colleagues of Marcus. They all tried to comfort me with their words, I think, but I can't recall any of them. I just felt so lost, so lonely.

I went out looking for my mother a few days later. I couldn't understand why she had left me, how she could be gone. I thought I could find her somewhere in our compound. A council member picked me up and brought me back home. Marcus hadn't even noticed my absence until then. He thanked the man whose name I didn't know, but he started shouting at me the moment we were alone again. He called me all kinds of things that afternoon — stupid, useless, selfish. That was about the message of it, and it determined how I felt that night and from then on. I asked him when my mother would return to us, and he snorted and said she'd never come back and I'd never see her again in my whole life. Still, it was beyond my imagination.

Then there was the funeral, and that's when it occurred to me that what Marcus had said was true.

It didn't take long until he turned on me. He often made me sit in the cupboard in the hall upstairs as a punishment. I had to sit down on its wooden floor, and then he closed the doors and locked me inside. I used to spend whole days in there and I hated it. I was so afraid of the darkness and of being locked in. I always feared he would forget me in there, or that he wouldn't bother to let me out again, and that I would spend the rest of my life locked in that closet. I got rid of that last fear as I grew up, but the fear of confinement lasted and still haunts me. You've been to my fear landscape, now you know where this one comes from.

And you already know he didn't stop at that. One night he came home from a council meeting and something was bothering him about it. I don't know exactly what it was. He was just so tense. I felt fear creep up on me at the way he behaved and then I... I broke a plate. It just slipped through my fingers and fell to the floor, and I tried to pick up the pieces and then cut my hand, and a little blood dropped down and stained the floor. And Marcus jumped to my side, grabbed my arm and roughly dragged me out of the kitchen.

I had to... He... bent me down over a chair, so that I faced the floor. And then he smacked me, with his palms at first. He told me I was weak for whimpering when his hand came down on me. When I thought he was done, he pushed me down again when I wanted to get up and then... I heard that sound again, that clicking.

At that moment I knew I would have to endure my punishments myself from then on, with nobody around anymore to take them for me, or to protect me.

I was terrified while I waited for the first blow. And when it came... I wasn't prepared for the pain of it. He 'only' hit me five times that first night, but I was in pain for at least a week.

Later, he hit me so hard that I would bleed, and countless times. You've seen it, I mean, the evidence of it, the scars. I learned to tune out the pain as much as possible over the years. Marcus would only go harder on me if I showed too many signs of weakness. But I had to give him the satisfaction of showing I was in pain, or he would sink even deeper into his rage.

He always justified his violence by saying he wanted to make me a better man, that it was all for my own good, until I believed it myself one day. I was just a shadow of who I am now. My whole life was dedicated to his rules, to avoiding anything that could get me in trouble. Every time I was forced to sleep lying on my stomach for days after a beating, I scolded myself for not having tried hard enough to please him, although, I realized at some point, I couldn't do anything about his rage anyway.

So this was my reality for years, and nobody ever noticed, or, as I tend to believe today, nobody wanted to. They all looked away.

When I got older and closer to choosing, it dawned on me that I had a way out of this life, and so the idea grew inside me until it became a plan. Marcus realized Choosing Day was a threat to his power over me. His outbursts became harder to bear. Most of the scars on my body he produced during the last year before my choosing ceremony, but the deepest aren't visible on me anyway. I spend so much energy hiding them or pretending they aren't there. I've become so good at it that sometimes I'm almost convinced myself that they don't exist, and I'm okay most of the time. I feel more at home in Dauntless than in Abnegation. But Marcus has broken things in me that can never be repaired again, and sometimes it all comes crashing in on me: the memories, the pain, the humiliation, the fear — like yesterday. It was all too much to bear. I felt like a child again, powerless and abandoned.

And then there were you, you, who saw me when I was a mess and just stayed with me all night even when you didn't know what all that was about. I mean, you know me and I'm sure you had your suspicions, but I can't tell you how much it means to me that you held me in your arms last night. Nobody has ever cared for me like that since I was seven, or maybe never at all. So... thank you, Tris."

There's a pause after this long speech, his words still hanging in the air. I don't know what to say. Is there anything I can say at all? Yes, I knew he had a tough childhood, I saw it in his fear landscape and on his back, but hearing it from him in detail is an entirely different matter. I know there are no words that can take away the pain of those years, and I don't want to say anything that could sound as if I tried to play it down.

I sit up and pull him into a firm embrace to pass as much energy and love to him as possible. "I'm glad that you told me now." After a while, I ask the question still on my mind. "What happened in the factionless sector yesterday?"

There must have been something that brought all those memories back into focus.

He sighs. "That's what I still have to tell you."

DISCLAIMER: I own neither the Divergent world nor the characters, they belong to Veronica Roth.