A/N Oh my gosh, I can't believe I actually got so many reviews! Special thank you to all who reviewed and favorited! If you want to go straight to the next chapter, skip the next page and go straight to chapter 6: chapter 5. If that makes any sense. Anyway, skip the next update. Forty for an early update? 31 countries! Woohoo! Anyways, I have been really busy-with squash and cello and all that-so it might take a while to update again. Now may be the time for once-a-weekers. Dunn Dunn Dunnnn! Please stay hopeful, most of my nights are spent writing and reading! Love ya all. This chapter is Four's POV from chapter two. Only occasional Four POVs. Tell me who you want to hear from. Also, let me know what other characters to include!
Disclaimer brought to you by: Danny from Grease!
Danny: Tell me more, tell me more, I don't know what you want!
Me: Do my disclaimer, please!
Danny: Okay... Oh, she doesn't own anything but her homemade Star Wars t-shirt!
Four POV
Tris. I am going to Tris. Well, Closetnerd. She told me her name and I told her my nickname, Four. I can't contain my excitement. I am practically acting like a six-year-old girl, skipping around and grinning at everything. Strange. Very different from my usual closed, dark self.
"Jeez dude! Stop prancing around or you'll roll your ankle in those pretty pretty heels." Zeke. What a jerk. What? I'm not allowed to be happy?
He slaps me on the back. Hard. I wince. Thankfully, Zeke didn't notice. Well, that probably opened up my new scar! I sigh and climb into the truck. We had met each other when I first moved here. I was seven. I still remember the tears on Bea's face as I drove away. My father had found an amazing job opportunity in Chicago. My mother consoled me, but nothing could get through my wall of emotions. I loved my mother a lot. We hadn't known until it had gotten really bad. She found her tumor at stage four. She lost her fight. That was when the beatings started. Every night, he would come home drunk. Every night, he would find something-anything-to yell at me for. Every night, the beatings got worse. It only started as four a night. Those were the worst. The first time was the hardest. Now, it has gone up to 25. Even the smallest things, not cleaning my fork, spending an extra minute in the shower, were sized up as huge mistakes. Zeke's mom called me polite. I was just careful. And scared.
My "father" founded a major business, so we are super rich. The co-founder of the company is Zeke's mother, Hana. She often invited us over for dinner. One time, I caught a glimpse of her two sons, Uriah and Zeke. They immediately befriended me while I kept my distance. After 11 years, Zeke and I have become best friends. Well, he is my only friend. But he still doesn't know. No one knows.
Yesterday, Marcus caught me up past curfew. After a severe beating, he pulled a gun on me. I freaked and ran after knocking him out with a lamp. I had gotten to an abandoned apartment building before I passed out. When I woke up, I snuck back to my house. My father, luckily, had gone to work. Man, some father. His kid ran away and he doesn't give a crap. What a lucky life I have. I quickly hacked into my father' stank account and transferred the money to a separate account I had secretly created years ago. Marcus had no idea I was even able to do something like that. Seriously, he would make a couple hundred thousand dollars by the end of the day. He could manage.
As a last act of defiance, I placed a sculpture given to me by my mother. It was an abstract, glass sculpture, taking the shape of water crashing down. This has always given me hope, and I treasured it dearly. My father never let me decorate my room. Even though we lived in a mansion, everything was gray. Even my clothes and bed were gray. There was no sign of life in here. My sister had come here with us. She was small, only two. She died when she was eight. One of my father's beatings was too much for her. It started when she had gotten a suspended in school. She was as messed up as I am now, but thirty thousand times worse. She had gotten mad at one of her classmates and beaten them up. He was so badly beaten, he wasn't discharged from the hospital for a week. The beating wasn't that bad to begin with. But her fire mouth just kept rolling and screaming insults at Marcus. This only fueled his fire and he exploded. I ran in front of her to take her beating. He slashed me. Hard. I passed out after an all time record of thirty-one strikes. I thought he was done as everything began turning black. Good, I thought. At least Angela is safe. Boy, was I wrong.
A/N Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed it! Another super short chapter! Yay. Kind of a cliff hanger. You guys deserved this chapter! What do y'all think? Review? Fifteen for an update before next Monday? Thank you to all who reviewed and to everyone reading it! I just saw We're The Millers! It was so funny! Also, gotta love The Office! Almost beats Arrested Development. Almost. Okay, next chapter will be in Four's POV because we never got to finish his back story! I keep on looking at the story stats by calendar. I am wondering why there are so few views on August second when I remember that even though I posted when it was August second here, it really is still August first in California. I hate time differences. Blah! Love you guys forever! Review? You know you want that update! Also, please check out my other story, Home?.