A/N: JerkZero and JerkNone here to bring you another chapter! Hope you like Peter's POV! Sorry it's a bit short…
***Peter's POV***
I wake up to an unpleasant man standing over me with breath that stunk of alcohol. "Douche-bag, douche-bag," he said. I fluttered my eyes. "Finally you woke up you little douche-bag. Now why are you bloodied and bruised on my mother trucking lawn?" the man questions. Then it all comes back to me. Four's dad, and Four beating me up. I didn't know Four could fight. His Jeep Commander wasn't in the driveway, meaning he hadn't come back yet, probably meaning he was still with my Tris.
"Why do you have a beer in your hand and stink of alcohol?" I ask the man.
"Because I can do what I want at my house douche-bag," the guy says and I realize it's Four's dad. The same on that kicked me out and threw a bottle at my back.
"What makes me a douche-bag?" I ask.
"My son doesn't hate a soul, but me. If he hates you, you must be a worse person than I am, which makes you a freakin douche-bag, you dumb assed douche-bag," he says.
"Your son is the douche-bag, you alcoholic," I reply back which only makes the man madder.
"My son isn't the douche-bag, you are the douche-bag, douche-bag! Now get off my mother trucking lawn before I get out the lawn mower and mow over your douche-bag body," he threatens.
"Aye-aye, sir," I mutter as I get up. Or at least attempt to get up. My ribcage is on fire, my head hurts like the dickens, and I'm sore all over from fighting. Four is going to get it the next time I see him…
"Faster you bruised, injured douche-bag!"
I hobble out of the yard, still being heckled by Mr. Eaton. My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I expect it to be one of Tris's texts again or an alert to tell me that her gps location is moving. That girl really is stupid for not realizing how I've found her all these times.
I shake my head and kick a stone hard just as a car drives by, cracking the windshield. I laugh to myself, only to rip apart my lungs in the process. Karma's a bitch. I press a hand to my chest as I wheeze. I probably have a broken rib. I've got to find a way to get back at Four. Obviously it will involve Tris, but I have to keep Four distracted.
Of course, I can't piss him off too much, or else he'll just come after me again. I wonder if I could make Tris hate him. Maybe, with Eric's help, I can set up my number to come across as Four's. All I need is to grab her phone one more time, and I can set my plan into action.
This isn't just about getting Tris to like me anymore; this is about revenge. When I pull out my phone, a text from Eric is already there.
u get her?
no, four beat me up.
Eric's not going to be happy that I let her slip through my fingers again. Last time I had thought I was so close, and she seemed to be melting in my presence, but then she got away and was able to run to her precious Four.
I'll kill him, Eric's reply comes. I smile and have to avoid a laugh for the sake of my ribs.
I have a better idea. We're going to the town dance.
Once there, all I'll have to do is wait for her to set her purse down, let Eric distract them, and then fix up my number as Four's. Then I can break her heart.
I walk all the way down the street and wait for Eric to use the tracker in my phone to find me. I hope he doesn't bring the bikes, because there's no way I can ride on one with my injuries. Luckily for me, he brings my shiny black Mercedes with it's tinted windows. I get in the passenger seat and grin at him.
He gives me a look, then another one. "What are you smiling about? You look like hell!"
I rub some of the stray blood off of my face. "I have a plan."
On the way to the doctor's I fill him in on everything. We entertain ourselves with possible things we could text Tris. We go between pushing her to do things she won't want to, to flat-out insulting her. We may even send a text that seems like it should go to another girl.
Eric helps me into the hospital, where I'm tended to. My ribs aren't broken, only bruised, and besides cuts and bruises practically everywhere on my body, I'm fine. They give me some heavy-duty painkillers and question as to what happened. I tell them that I got in a fight over a girl. With the everyone must be married by 18 rule, when you say something was a girl, nobody gives it a second look.
Outside in the Merc, Eric takes one of the pills they gave me.
"Hey!" I cry out indignantly. "Psycho, I need that!"
He sighs and hands it back, mumbling about wanting to have fun. For being such a rebel and tech-geek, he can be extremely stupid sometimes. Of course, that's part of why I keep him around. You can't question someone's actions when you don't think about them.
I run a hand through my hair, feeling some matted blood in it. I groan and instruct him to take me home. My real home isn't the one I took Tris to, it's an apartment in the middle of the city. Eric complies with my request and drops me off, leaving me to my thoughts.
Inside the apartment, everything is clean and modern, and the lights are still on. This won't be good for me. I tuck the painkillers in my pocket so that my parents won't see them. I try my best to sneak into my bedroom, to no avail. My dad calls out to me first.
"Peter! Is that you?" Who else would it be? I bite my tongue.
"Yes," I reply.
He steps into the hallway, his face appraising me. He grabs me by the collar roughly and drags me into the den where my mom sits watching TV. She doesn't even look up when I come in. My father tosses me onto the floor, and my head hits the edge of a table. I try not to cry out.
"Who were you in a fight with?" my dad howls.
"It was over a girl," I say.
"And based on your appearance you didn't win. Do you want to end up all alone?" He says and kicks me in the ribs.
"Of course not!" I exclaim, which was pretty stupid on my part.
He stomps on my hand, causing me to cry out. "Then you better pull yourself together! I won't have a failure of a son."
My mother finally gets up and puts a hand on my dad's chest. She smiles at him.
"I think he gets the point, dear."
They leave me alone, panting and broken on the floor. Four's dad is the same, except only when he's drunk. That kid has it lucky. He has Tris, too. If I have Tris as my wife, my parents will accept me. They won't see me as a failure anymore, and they won't beat on me.
I pull myself together and drag myself to my room. I swallow two pain pills in the hope of knocking myself out. I can't see straight, I'm so angry. My hands fidget and I pace the room, desperate to hit something and release my anger.
Four is going to end up just like his father, hurting Tris. I would be so much better. My parents would accept me, and I could ditch Eric. Why doesn't she like me? She did before, at the first party I met her at.
I flex my fingers, then fist them. All of my anger,simmering before, now rushes to the surface. It escapes every pore and fiber of my being, and it released through my fist smashing into the wall. Or more accurately, through the wall. The gaping hole is a grim reminder of my life.
I lay on my bed, the pills not working yet, and cry out of rage, sadness, and disappointment.
A/N: Question of the Chapter: What's the worst thing you've said or done while angry? Answer in review form! Thank you to all reviewers, readers, followers, and those who have favorited our story!