Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent
Chapter Four - Four's POV
When the plane had landed and I'd gotten my suitcase, I hailed a cab. The yellow car smelled like cigarette smoke and alcohol, reminding me of my childhood. I rolled the window down and stuck my face out the window, breathing in the cool air that hit my face. The cab pulled onto the highway and the scent of my childhood was beginning to disappear. I sighed, relieved, and began to think of my hometown, Chicago.
I could remember the high school with the crowded hallways and banged-up lockers. My best-friend, Zeke, had been on the varsity football team with me. My coach, Amar, was the one to give me my nickname, Four. I'd liked that nickname. When people used that name, it reminded me I was currently free from my father's abuse.
I shook my head. No, I wasn't going to remember my past. Not now, no. I'd been avoiding my past for so long. One trip wasn't going to change all that.
The cab pulled in front of my childhood home. the place I'd been raised in fear. I paid the driver and took my luggage. Standing in front of the house, the sounds of a belt and my mother's pained screams filled my ears.
"God, Four. Let it go, you're 28 now," I said out loud, scolding myself for being scared. Dragging my suitcases behind me, I approached the house and knocked on the door.
"Tobias!" Marcus exclaimed when he opened the door. To my relief, he wasn't drunk.
"Marcus, I don't want you calling me that anymore." I meant to sound mature when I said that, not like a whiny little kid. No such luck.
"Right. Sorry Four," he said, rolling his eyes. He let me into the house before muttering, 'What a ridiculous name,' under his breath.
"At least I kept my last name," I snapped. Marcus looked surprised and hurt, but I ignored him and made my way to my old bedroom.
It was just how I'd left it. The walls were plain, white and my double-bed was still perfectly made. I toed my shoes off by the door and made my way over to my plain desk. There, sitting on my desk, was the sculpture I'd left the day I left for college. It had been a sign of my independence, my freedom. I sighed, forgetting wasn't going to be easy; not in this house.
I changed into sweatpants and a hoodie to go for a jog; I needed to get out of here.
-Tris POV-
The car pulled into the driveway of the home I'd been raised in. The house looked almost identical to how it looked 20 years ago with the exception of a swing set looking ready to collapse if so much as a fly landed on it.
We brought the suitcases inside and Caleb and I brought our things upstairs to our old bedrooms. I admired the light pink comforter on my neatly made bed with two fluffy white towels on the edge. No doubt my mother did this.
I smiled at the pictures of me when I was younger. My dad teaching me how to ride a bike, my friends and me lying in a circle on the grass at a summer barbeque party, and me winning first place at a track meet.
I used to be a fast runner and my family fully supported me when I joined my high school's track team. With the help of my teammate's I won first place in my heat for long distance at regionals.
I decided to get some fresh air and go for a jog. I hadn't been given the chance to do that for a while. I put on a pair of yoga pants and a Lululemon top before heading off.
A/N: Hey there! I just wanted to thank everyone who left reviews convincing me to keep writing. This is my first story, so that was a big deal to me. So I've decided to continue the story, however my school starts tomorrow and I will become loaded with volleyball practices, tournaments, and homework. I will try to update as much as possible, and set a goal to post at least once a week. I know, it's torture. I hate when authors do that for stories I really like, but I just don't know if I'll have time. Hopefully I'll have a post up later this week. In the meantime, here's a sneak peek at the next chapter.
I hadn't been paying attention to where I was running because I hit something, hard. No, it wasn't something, rather someone. A young woman, short, sat on the ground, rubbing her head. She was pretty. She had fair skin, dirty blonde hair tied in a ponytail, and grey eyes. "I'm sorry," I said, helping her up.
"No, it was my fault; I wasn't looking where I was going," She said. After brushing herself off, she looked up at me. "You're Four Eaton," she stated. I liked that she simply stated it, rather than jumping up and down and squealing like other girls.
How'd you like it? Review below. I know that you're just dying to, that if you leave without reviewing it will make you feel very guilty for not giving me any feedback. Until next time!