So I think I should clarify that Four's dream was his belief of what happened between Tris and Peter. Also there's most likely going to be no more Four Pov.

Disclaimer: I don't own divergent

Chapter 7

That Monday

Tris Pov

"Beatrice!" I'm shoved further into my bed. I grunt.

"Beatrice! Get up now we're running 20 minutes late!" My mom exclaims. With that I jump out of bed, and she walks away.

I hurriedly get ready, putting on gray sweatpants with a black baseball tee and my black uggs. I throw my hair into a cute messy bun and rush to do the further necessities. I grab some oatmeal rush to my car. I have 10 minutes to get to class.

I make it there with a minute to go. As I sit down I look around for Four, since I realized in the first week we actually have all our classes together, but he's nowhere to be seen. I shrug it off, maybe he's running late, and talk to Uriah for the period.

I get to science and still no Four, maybe he's sick? I also notice there's no Peter, I sigh in relief that I don't have to deal with him today. Christina ends up stealing Peter's seat halfway through the period and we make up rumors about Ms. Matthews.

"What if she lost her personality in military training?" Christina offers.

"Oh please how could thy 'princess' lift a single finger, let alone a gun?"

"What if she had a huge break up with George Clooney just before became famous? And that's wh-"

"Oh come on she would never be able to land him" I reason. "She probably never had a personality to begin with"

The bell rings and we head to math. I walk in and see a guy wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap sitting in Four's spot. Then I look back and realize it is Four.

Sitting down next to him I whisper,"What happened? What's with the disguise?"

He looks up at me and takes the sunglasses off, studying my eyes for a reaction. He has a black eye on his right, but nothing else. I run a very light finger on it. "Who did this?"

"It doesn't matter they walked away much worst." He shows me his hands, they look worse than his eye. Each knuckle is scabbed over, and his entire area of knuckles are bruised just as bad as his eye.

"Can I ask why?" I rub his knuckles gently.

"I was protecting someone"

"Ok." I hug him and say "that's a good reason" in his ear. I rub his back a little and he stiffens.

"Did they get your back too?"

"No..." he hesitates, "that was someone else. Don't ask?"

Class starts, I notice that throughout the period Four never relaxed back into his chair. How bad could the person have done? When class first started Mr. Richards asked Four to take off the disguise, he complied. Everyone gasped when they saw the black eye, therefore the rumors started. Four was tense so I grabbed his hand trying to calm him, rubbing circles into the back of his hand. Mr. Richards looked regretful for forcing Four into showing his bruise. The class went by fast after, as did the rest of the day. I kept Four calm and from beating up anybody that pushed his patience too much with questions. This included Uriah, Christina, and Shauna; oddly enough not Zeke.

Four came over to my house after our practices. I caught him up in science and english, then we had a 1 on 1 soccer scrimmage. I was winning until I realized he was in some pain from his dangerous unknown activities.

"Are you alright?" I ask

"Yeah but I do want to explain to you the other part of what exactly happened. Can we go somewhere, where your parents won't hear us?"

"Do you want to go to our place?" I suggest. He nods.

We get on his motorcycle, I try to be careful of how hard I hold because I know his back hurts. But when he turns I have no choice but to hold tighter.

When we get there, I apologize for my hold. "You have nothing to be sorry for" he reassures me.

Changing the subject, I say "You know I still can't think of a name that fits this place"

"Why do you need a name?"

"Because every special place needs a special name to go with it. I've just never been able to create a name that captures the freely dangerous and peaceful beauty this place has" I explain

He seems in deep thought. "What about the chasm?" He suggests.

"The Chasm? I like it. So what did you want to tell me?"

"My real name is Tobias, for starters. Also I wanted to explain my father"

I nod for him to continue.

"Like I said before my mom died when I was four. Although I don't remember much, I remember sometimes I would hear her screams, others I would see her passed out on the floor with deep bruises and some swollen lumps on her. My father abused her." He pauses, looking up making sure of himself he trusts me or can trust me.

He turns his back to me and whips his shirt off. There lies more scabs and some extra dried blood. It looks like he was cut multiple times by something but not a knife.

"After my mom died Marcus drank more, he would say these terrible things to me about my mother and about why I'm a mistake. When I was about eight he got his drinking under control, I was hopeful that I could have a normal father. But a year later he hit me for forgetting my homework at school. After that he continued with punching and kicking until I was eleven. On my eleventh birthday he decided that the 'good old' birthday spanking weren't enough so he pulled his belt off and gave me eleven lashes with one for good luck." I feel the tears falling down silently as he continues.

"So after my birthday my usual punishment was lashes; sometimes it wasn't even punishment, he was just angry. When I was fourteen the beatings came less often because he found someone that made him happy, my stepmother. I don't think she knows what he does but her son does. I swear he was meant to be Marcus's son more then me"

"How could someone do that?Especially to you, Four, your his son?" He turns around and looks confused, but he wipes away the tears and kisses me.

"You're not giving me the kicked puppy look" he says in awe.

"Why should I? You don't deserve it. You're the strongest person I know."

He kisses me, I deepen the kiss moving onto his lap. His hands go to my hips play with the hem of my shirt, mine to his neck playing with his hair. He nudges my bottom lip with his tongue asking for entrance. I open allowing it. Our tongues fight for dominance, he wins. He slows down and playfully bites my lip. And gives me another peck, stopping so we can catch our breath.

"You can call me Tobias but only when we're alone"

"Tobias, it suits you." I test it out

I rest my head on his chest and watch the sunset. He plays with my hair that has fallen from my bun, and strokes arm and side lightly. His head is resting on mine, I can hear every breath he takes and how his heart beat steadily slows down, its calming.

We sit in the peaceful silence, I debate whether or not to tell him. I mean he trusted me with his darkest secret; and if that makeout session means anything, it's better he knows before anything further, right? That way if things ever escalate he knows to go slow with me.

I pull back from the cuddle. "I think I'm ready to explain Peter."

He nods, still cuddling me.

"From the beginning of memory to when I was about seven Peter and his family were family friends. He was my only neighborhood friend therefore my best friend. When I was five or four he asked me Do you want to do gross stuff? I said sure, thinking it was some sort of game. Only gross stuff stood for him molesting me." Tobias hugged me closer.

"I didn't even know it then. I only knew that what we were doing was partially wrong because every time someone would come to check on us we would rush to put our clothes back on. It continued for two years until I freaked out one time when his family was coming over. I am scared of him because I don't know if he would still do something like that. I mean something had to have happened to him for a 5 year to convince another 5 year old to do something like that right?"

"Tris.. I don't think you need to explain your fear of him. what he did … no one would blame you or call you selfish for not wanting to forgive him or for blaming him. Also no one would blame you for being scared of him. I know for a fact that he would still do something like that to someone." He soothes. Although when I look in his eyes they have a look of pure hatred but soften when he focuses on me. He clearly had something against Peter before my story, now he wants nothing to do with him.

I look at him curiously, "How do you know for a fact?" I ask.

He takes a deep breath and looks away. "He's my step-brother."