Hey, guys! Another chapter!
I want to personally thank everyone who reviewed. Thank you Guest, JustJoyce, Savannah, Divergentfannewbie, Ahlamcandor, and Awesometooawesome.
Your reviews meant so, so much to me, and I am so thankful that you took the time to review.
Here's a new chapter, specially long as a present for all my reviews! (see? I do update more/longer when you review)
Not quite happy, but, well, I'll let you decide for yourselves.
I actually own DIvergent now, Veronica Roth told me I could have it... Or was that just a dream?
"Hey," she said, in a voice she didn't know she had. "You wanna go do something?"
Four didn't answer her in words so much as answer her in a look. His eyes caught hers, burning with the fire of ten thousand tiny flames, surging with hope and sadness and beginnings and endings and nows, the moments that were gifts and was already hurtling towards oblivion, but sparked sweet and long while they lasted.
He took her hand, and pulled her back, outside the dingy room with Tris's comatose mother and brother, sobbing among the humming machines that were breathing for her. Outside the hospital and it's stench of death. Outside, into the night.
The dusk was falling like a velvety blanket, all soft chills in the inky sky. The yellow lights of the parking lot glowed overhead, the concrete paving reflecting back the stars from the puddles in the cracks.
Four lead her to his beat-up car, and Tris slid into the passenger seat. The car smelled like smoke and cologne and a scent that was uniquely Four's. It was overwhelming. Tris couldn't believe that she was doing this, letting the night swallow her after her father died and her mother fell into a coma, but the part of her brain that told her that was drowning in the feelings of the moment, of the hard, sweet reality. All day, she'd felt like she was falling through a void, and now, she thought she could finally see the solid ground.
"Was this what you had in mind?" Four whispered to her from the drivers seat. The car was off, so not even the flickering lights of the dashboard were on. The car was dark save for murky light coming from the lot, silent but for static-y music playing from someone else's radio.
Tris leaned forward. Four's breath was tickling her face, warm and bitter and sweet and a million things she couldn't think about, could only acknowledge. Part of her knew that was happening was insane- she was watching herself, seeing a girl she barely knew. But the rest of her longed for contact, longed for reality, longed for something to pull her out of herself and her tragedies and her mother, lying still and waxy in the hospital room.
"Just give me something to make me forget."
The air was thick with untold secrets and unshed tears and dreams that are on the verge of reality, but Four said nothing. He flicked the radio on to some music Tris has never heard of, and drove out, onto the highway.
They stopped at a club. Music shook the cracked sidewalk out front, rumbling bass echoing out through the night. Two girls that are more legs than body stumbled out, blonde hair flashing, giggling as they tripped in their tall, tall heels and short, short dresses. Four parked the car by the side of the road, stepped out. Tris followed him. It was cold out, and it occurred to her that she must be wildly underdressed in her baggy jeans and T-shirt.
"You sure you want to go in?" Four asked, the angles of his face sharp in the flickering car lights.
Tris nodded, felt her heart pounding in time to the music. A day before, she never would have been there, at a club in a sketchy area she'd never been to on a school night, no less, but everything was different. Any thought of going home was countered by a sickening point- where was "home" anyway?
Four lead her out of the car, locking it with a rusty key.
"Hey- Four?"
Tris and Four both spun around. Lingering in the dark shadows outside the club was a guy that could only be described as sketchy. Maybe even skeevy. He was short and solidly built, muscles showing through a black T-shirt, and leather jacket. His dark hair was cropped, and an eyebrow piercing glinted in the light.
"Hey, Eric."
Was it Tris's imagination, or was Four's voice guarded, cautious, even?
"Long time no see- thought you might have gotten too good for these parts?"
Tris turned to ask Four what Eric was talking about, but before she could, he was talking again. "I have some more for you, if you want- but it'll cost you." Eric grinned, and something burned dark and terrifying in his iron eyes.
Tris felt Four stiffen next to her. "I'm good."
"More of what, exactly?" The words were out of Tris's mouth before she could stop them.
Eric turned to face her directly, his eyes narrowing. He reached out and stroked a dirty, long-nailed finger down Tris's cheek. He leaned in close, close enough that Tris could feel his hot breath, and smell alcohol and something even more bitter.
Tris squirmed desperately. Where were Four? Why wasn't he helping her? She felt his gaze turn to her, but he remained silent, unresponsive, beside her.
"You mind your own business, you little bitch," Eric hissed. "Don't you dare ask me things that you have no right to know about."
And then he slapped her.
A hard, open-handed swipe that collided with Tris's cheek in a cold, hard, arc of pain.
"You got i-"
"That's enough." Four interrupted firmly. His voice was cold, harsh in a way that Tris had never heard before.
Eric gave Four a long look, his dark eyes glinting again, and then shrugged. "Alright. I gotta go, anyway."
He turned and walked away, his steel-toed boots striking the pavement, leather jacket slung around him. A silvery-sleek car was idling by the curb, just beyond the street, and Eric got into it. The car looked oddly familiar, like a place in a half-remembered dream, but Tris brushed the thought aside. There were too many things buzzing around her head, too many thoughts to keep track of. Worrying about some weirdo's car was not something she had the mental capacities to do, at the moment.
"Who. Was. He." Tris hissed to Four. Her face felt numb- Eric clearly had a strong hand.
Four sighed, and looked anywhere but Tris's face. "Eric White."
"And…A little more than a name would be, you know, nice." Her voice came out harsher than she expected, but she didn't regret it. The void that she had been falling through since she heard the news had abruptly ended, slamming her into the cold, hard, ground. Eric had slapped her back into reality, and it hurt. Part of her knew that lashing out at Four wouldn't solve her problems, but that part of her was losing the war.
"I was- we were- we used to be friends. Good friends." Four stared into the distance, the bass music still rumbling out from the club.
"Yeah? Then why didn't you do anything when he hit me?"
"I did," protested Four.
"Okay, after he hit me!" Tris's voice climbed up an octave. What was happening to her? Since when did creepy guys assault her outside of clubs?
"Look," said Four flatly, turning to face Tris. "I don't want you to get hurt, either. But, guys like Eric…." He sighed. "I can't help you with them. You need to learn when you can't talk."
Tris stared at Four. "What do you mean, when I can't talk? I can't just let him, or anyone, say things if they aren't right!"
A gust of cold wind ripped between the two teenagers.
"Yeah, you can just let him." Four took a step closer, the proximity electric. "Eric- he's not a good guy. Even if I stopped him, he'd still be as angry, as dangerous. You need to think about that, okay? You need to stay safe."
Tris tried to think of something to say, but all she could feel was the tingling feelings that came with being so close to Four. Her anger was melting into the inky depths of his face. There was time later to get answers, to find everything out, but now she had othe rthings to think about, like… his eyes, bright blue in the darkness, boring holes into Tris's face, and his lips, pillow and soft, drawing her in…
She leaned forward, her eyes falling shut, and-
"Stop it, aright?!"
The two sprung apart, cheeks burning.
A bouncer had emerged from the club, a cigarette dangling from between his sausage lips. "No lingerin', ya hear me? We got enough trouble with them druggies. This is an 'stablishment here, not some place for ya riffraff to hang around!"
Tris starred down at her battered converse, shoes that seemed to belong in another life. If there was anything worse than humiliating yourself in front of the hot, mysterious guy you liked, it was being yelled at for it.
"Sorry," she said, her voice a whisper that even she could barely here.
"We're just coming in then," said Four coolly, taking Tris's wrist and pulling her into the club, past the scowling bouncer.
The club was dark and smoky, razor beams of light cutting through the fog as they flashed in time with music that throbbed louder than Tris thought possible. Tris kept her gaze pinned to the ground, shame coursing through her. It was like watching a PowerPoint presentation, over and over again in her head, of how badly she screwed up: Leaning in, waiting, getting drawn in, and then- boom, getting yelled at. Four hadn't said anything, and Tris knew he wouldn't. He was far too much of a gentleman to embarrass her, but still. The knowledge of how she looked in her eyes was almost worse than anything he could say.
A girl wearing a dress that was more like a bathing suit wobbled by, her stiletto boot-heel crashing down on Tris's toe. Wincing in pain, she turned to find Four, to ask him to leave. Despite everything, she had no other way home, or to wherever she was going to spend the night.
But Four was gone, swallowed up by the hordes of people dancing, jumping, gyrating like one giant organism in the loud, dark, space.
Tris felt a moment of relief bubble up- she wouldn't have to worry about him now, she could relax –but the bubble was quickly crushed by an onslaught of panic.
She had no idea where she was.
She had no way home.
She had no home to even get to, anyway.
Tris tried to take a deep breathe, and think rationally, but "thinking rationally" is something that is a lot easier to think about when one is not in a situation that actually warrants it. All she could think of was the blind free fall of panic, with no way out.
She fumbled in her pocket for her cell phone, stabbing at the buttons with a shaking finger.
"No," she said. "No!" It couldn't be dead. There was no way that her luck was so bad.
She shook it, stabbed at it again, trying desperately to turn it on. That was her one way to maybe get home, or somewhere, and of course, it wasn't working.
Someone jostled her from behind, and Tris lost her grip on her precious phone. It crashed to the floor, making what was probably a horrible cracking sound, although Tris couldn't hear it over the music.
She bent down to retrieve it, saying a silent, desperate prayer for it to work, but before she could snatch it, a heavy boot slammed down onto it.
"Oh. Oh, shit," was all Tris could mumble as she stared down at what was left of her phone.
The sleek, silver device had been reduced to a pile of metal, scrappy, twisted piece mixed with a fine silver substance that must have once been the screen.
"Oh, shit," said Tris, a little louder, ashamed to feel a lump rise in her throat. It was only a phone, a crappy phone she had wanted to trade in anyway, but it had been a present from her parents. She would never get a present from them again.
"Oh, wow, you'll need a new phone after that."
Tris looked up to a see a guy, maybe her age, but he was so tall it was hard to tell, squatting beside her.
"Yeah," she said, unsmiling. Her voice broke, and she wiped away tears. It was so stupid, to be crying about a broken phone after everything else that had broken that day, but she was.
"Oh, uh, shit, my bad…" The guy trailed off, unsure. Clearly, teary girls were beyond his levels of expertise. "Uh, don't cry… " He grinned suddenly. "I'm the bartender here. I'll make you a drink. On the house." He winked, and then stood up, disappearing behind a glowing counter.
Tris got to her feet slowly, perching herself on a stool opposite the bar. She rested her head on her hands, and looked the guy making her drink over.
He was tall, certainly, and broad, although not fat- just… muscular, really. He wore black jeans, a white t-shirt with some kind of band insignia, and of course, the heavy black boots.
He turned back to her, and Tris busied herself with her nails, trying not to seem like she had been staring at him.
He was holding a tall, thin glass filled with some sort of clear, pinkish liquid, topped with a cherry.
"It's my specialty, " he said. "I call it the Nuclear Sunrise."
Tris grabbed it as he slid it across the counter towards her. The glass was cold and slippery to the touch, and when she smelled it, it reminded her of the strawberry-scented nail polish remover she'd bought once- there was a lot of sugary sweetness, but not quite enough to cover up the acidic undertones.
"Try it- I'm not gonna poison you," said the guy, smirking.
Tris looked at it doubtfully for a second- a drink named after an apocalyptic event could not possibly be very tasty- then again, she was at a club somewhere, with no where to go and no way of getting anywhere. Oh, and she had humiliated herself in front of the guy she liked.
She raised the glass to her lips, and took a long gulp.
It tasted exactly the way it sounded, and burned Tris's mouth. She choked, but took another sip, this one even fierier than the last. Already, there was a warm feeling spreading through her, setting her nerves on fire the way she imagined a kiss with Four would.
Four. Oh, shit, shit, shit. Just the thought of him sent cold, chilling shame through her. She chased away the way the feeling with another long swig of the drink.
"You really like it, yeah?" The guy was smiling, amused.
Tris looked down at the glass in her hand. It took some focusing, because everything was a little bit shimmery on the edges… how silly, it was like everything was drawn in wavy lines. For some reason, this struck Tris as hilarious, and she began to giggle.
"I'm Al," The guy said. "And you are?"
"Done with my dr-drink," giggled Tris, waving her empty glass at him. The drink had gone down faster than she expected. It was kind of hard to hold it out to Al, though. But she was still all warm and bubbly like she was made out of seltzer, so it was okay.
"I think you've had enough," Al said, but he turned back to the counter and started to pour a drink… At least, that's what Tris thought he was doing. There were two of him, it seemed, and everything was all fuzzy and blurry like she was wearing goggles that had fogged up.
The music wasn't too loud, anymore. It was like a nice hum, humming along with her humming body. And she was tired, so tired.
It was so funny that she had been so sad, thought Tris as she laid her head down on the bar. But she couldn't remember why she had been sad….
She giggled. So funny.
The world was still all blurry but there was a black pool waiting for her to dive in.
Tris smiled, and let herself float into the blackness.
So? Thoughts?
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