I don't anything about Divergent.
Heylo, faithful readers! I'm still sick and out of school...so yeah. It's both awesome and sucky. But either way, here's eyt another update. Sorry about the shortness of the last one.
Enjoy! See you at the bottom...:)
My father opens his mouth to answer and then someone pounds on the door. Four's face goes white again. My father stands and makes his way to the door. Caleb and I follow him, and when the door opens, we see….a tall, muscular man. He has dark brown hair and dark, dark, cold blue eyes.
"Hello," my father says pleasantly. "Mr. Eaton, right? You're a manager in a different part of the company I work at."
"Hi, yeah, yeah. Is my son here?" Mr. Eaton replies rudely. My father frowns.
"Beatrice, is Four Mr. Eaton's son?" he asks.
I shrug. "He never said anything about his father." But then I go back into the dining room, where Four is sitting in his chair, shaking like a leaf. I put a hand on his shoulder and he flinches.
My father, Caleb and Mr. Eaton follow me. "Four, did you come over here without your father's permission?" Dad asks, frowning. But now both he and Caleb have seen the looks on Four's and Mr. Eaton's faces: complete terror on Four's and utter rage on Mr. Eaton's.
Four hangs his head. "Yes, sir."
"Why?" Mr. Eaton growls.
"Because you were asleep," Four says. "I didn't want to wake you."
"Then you shouldn't have gone," Mr. Eaton continues, making Four flinch.
"It was my fault," I say, surprising everyone, including myself. "I told Four he had to come. He wanted to do as you said, but I said I really wanted him to come. And I, uh, have some Spanish I need help on. Four's really good, so I asked him if, after dinner, he'd help me."
Mr. Eaton turns to me and glares. I don't back down, and this irritates him. "Well, he needs to come home. Now."
"No," I reply stubbornly. "I still need his help and he hasn't finished dinner."
"Beatrice," my father warns softly. Then he thinks he better of it. "Mr. Eaton, would you like some dinner? There's still some spaghetti left."
Caleb, Four and I watch Mr. Eaton, wondering what he'll do. We finish quickly while my father and Mr. Eaton chat. The change from when he was looking at his son to while he's chatting with my father is a little terrifying. I clear Four's dishes and my own, and Caleb follows me with his.
"Can you do the dishes?" I ask him quietly. "I want to talk to Four."
He nods and I take Four into my room. Thank God it's pretty clean.
"What is going on down there, Four?" I ask, grabbing his arm.
Four doesn't meet my eyes. "Nothing. I just messed up and he's angry."
"No, Four. That's a lie. I know what he does to you," I whisper.
"No," Four growls. "Not without me saying anything, you don't."
"Four," I say, exasperated. "We're not idiots. My father and Caleb and I can all tell. And your back is covered in scars. I'm betting he whipped you today." The last part I add in a whisper, leaning closer, "Why won't you open up to me, Four?"
"Maybe I will," he answers, breaths mingling with mine. "But not today."
"Fine," I tell him. I move back a tiny bit and touch his back. He hisses in pain. "But I just proved it again. And, Four, at least let me look at your back. Help you bandage it."
Four seems to be having an internal debate, but he strips off his dark blue polo shirt to reveal a blood-soaked undershirt. It's stained, so I can tell he wears this after his father beats him. I dart into the bathroom and grab first-aid supplies and hydrogen peroxide and an old hand towel. When I get back into my room, he's laying on my bed, his stained undershirt clenched in his hand. I look at his back sadly. Other than the multitude of scars, there are fresh bruises and cuts as well as fading ones. I gently touch one of the bruises.
I soak the cloth in the peroxide and do my best to be gentle. He still hisses in pain from time to time.
After I clean the cuts, I spread Neosporin on them. I search around in the first aid kit for the roll of bandages, and find two. I cut some and press them to the worst cuts, and then ready the roll to wrap his back.
"Four," I say softly, touching an unmarked part of his shoulder. "Can you sit up?"
He forces himself up and I wrap his back and shoulders. When I'm done, I hand him the polo and take the undershirt into the bathroom. I clean it as best I can, and then wring it out and walk back into my room. Four's still sitting on my bed, eyes focused on the ground.
"Thank you," he says quietly. "I'm an idiot, falling down the stairs."
"If you're not going to tell me the truth, Four, please don't tell me anything at all," I request, touching his chin.
Four smiles at me now. "I had better go downstairs. You come, too. Marcus probably wants me to go home with him."
"You don't need to let him hurt you, Four. You could take him," I say confidently.
"That's none of your business," Four snaps, changing from the boy I just saw. "Just forget you ever saw my back."
"Nice abs, by the way," I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
Four smirks. "I told you I'm the epitome of male high school hotness." I smile sadly at him and his smile disappears. "Don't pity me," he growls.
"I'm not," I reply, and I'm telling the truth. "I'm just sad that you won't be truthful with me."
"You aren't giving me that look. Like I'm a kicked puppy or something." Four's voice is soft, and his eyes are focused on the carpet of our hallway.
"Well," I say. "You're not." I lead him down the stairs, to where our fathers are sitting in the living room.
"Are you ready to leave?" Marcus asks Four gruffly.
Four swallows nervously and nods. Marcus thanks my father earnestly and Four meekly follows his father across the street and into their house. I meet my father' and Caleb's eyes. We all know what Marcus does to him, but none of us are willing to say anything without Four's permission.
"Well," my father says suddenly, breaking the awkward silence. "This night was….interesting. Good idea, Beatrice. Caleb, when did Natalie say you have to be home?"
"Ten."
"Well, it's nine. Why don't you just come back another night. I think Beatrice and I have a few more things to talk about. It was great to meet you, Caleb. I have always wanted to know my son," Dad dismisses him warmly.
Caleb hugs me and Dad one last time and then leaves, disappearing into the night. I start walking to the kitchen to finish any dishes Caleb didn't, but am stopped by a hand on my shoulder from my father.
"Beatrice, wait. I think we need to talk about Four and Mr. Eaton." I sit, and he continues. "What Mr. Eaton does and or did to his son is deplorable, but, as much as I hate to say it, we have no control over it, nor should we be discussing it." Dad sighs and his voice becomes more human and fatherly. "It's really wrong of Marcus Eaton to beat his kid, but, unfortunately, without Four's permission and confession, there's really nothing we can do. Did you see his whip wounds while you two were up in your room?"
I frown at my father. "How did you know he was whipped?"
"My father used to whip my brothers and I. I recognize the look of fear in his eyes and his refusal to sit back in the chair," my dad admits.
"They're pretty bad." I close my eyes remembering. "Marcus must beat him at least daily for there to be so many marks."
Dad sighs. "I wish we could do something." Then he stands. "But for now, you go finish your homework. And I'm proud of you for standing up to Marcus, Bea."
I trudge up the stairs and see that Four left his undershirt and phone. I grab them and dart down the stairs again. "Dad!" I shout. "Four left his phone! I'm going to run over and give it back!"
"Be careful!" my father yells back.
I walk across the street and knock on the door. No one answers, but there are a few lights on upstairs and I hear yelling. I open the door and creep up the stairs. Only one door is open, and I see two shadows in it. I push it open further and see…..