A/N= Divergent rights belong to Veronica Roth.
September 10th
"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?"
"Four, I told you, I'll be fine. Marlene is driving me there and then driving me back again," I reassure him. I lay on my bed, looking up at my ceiling which is painted like a cloudy sky, whilst holding the phone between my shoulder and ear as I mindlessly flick through a magazine. Lately, I've gotten used to waking up early in the mornings and listening to his deep voice through the phone line before he leaves for work. He's made a habit of ringing me after his morning shower and I'm not one to complain.
"Is she not going in with you to see her?"
"No, she went to visit her on Monday with Shauna. I asked if I could just see Lynn alone, I don't really want anyone else there."
"Are you allowed to go in on your own?" I can imagine the frown lines forming between his eyebrows as he speaks, the corners of his mouth turning down fractionally.
"Yes, you have to be eighteen or over. And, obviously, I am eighteen," I sigh and roll over onto my side. "Four, seriously, stop worrying."
"I know, I know. I just want you to be okay, it's not exactly like going to a theme park, is it."
"No, but it's not going to be as bad as when I was actually in a cell. I can handle it, honestly. Hell, I'll even let them strip search me if they have to. I'll do anything to be able to see her."
"Well I'd rather they didn't strip search you," he laughs, however we both know he's being serious.
"Yeah," I grin. "Me too, but I was just saying…"
"I know. You're strong. You know it, I know it, we all know it. But just be prepared, okay? It's not going to be nice seeing her in there."
"It won't. But I'd rather not think about that right now, I'll deal with that when it comes."
"Okay, sorry. I just worry, I can't help it. I've never worried about anyone else before."
"Aren't I the lucky one," I say sarcastically. It's nice to be cared about, but I ignore the fact that the 'else' referred to his mother, not himself.
"You are! Listen, I've just pulled up outside work. I'll talk to you tonight alright?"
"Yeah, I should be home around five-ish."
"Speak to you then."
"Bye," I hang up. Then I start to think about Four and his mother. He must think about her a lot, and it makes me sad. A few nights ago, we were talking on the phone about christmas. He said that he's never enjoyed christmas since his mother passed, and then he started to talk about the little things that she did for him that made him feel loved and happy. I let him talk for fifteen minutes straight, uninterrupted, just about her. Eventually, I heard his voice starting to crack and he told me he had to go to bed, hanging up the phone immediately. It broke my heart. I've learned that Four is much easier to talk to when we're not face-to-face; he doesn't get as short tempered and talks about real things. Or maybe it's not the fact he's talking on the phone, it might be because he's talking to me. I hope it is. I really do.
It's midday, and having just showered and dressed, I wait for Marlene to arrive at my house so that we can go to the prison. It will take us about an hour to drive there, but at least Marlene knows the way. I take my phone and some change for the vending machines, and soon enough Marlene is outside my house beeping the horn. I jog out, locking the door behind me, and jump in the passenger seat.
"Hey, how's it going?" She smiles at me, sporting her designer sunglasses and two-piece plaid outfit. She looks similar to a person out of a magazine.
"Not too bad," I look down at the outfit I decided to wear: sweatpants and a hoodie. It's only prison after all, right?
"We could stop off for something to eat if you want," she begins to pull out and drive down the road.
"I think I'd rather just go straight to see Lynn, if that's okay?"
"Fine with me," she continues to look ahead at the road. "Hey so we missed you on Sunday. Uriah really wanted you to be there," she pouts.
"I know, I'm sorry. I should have gone but I honestly didn't feel up to it." Sunday was the big send-off for Uriah, he vacated to college on Monday. Everyone gathered together at Faction Ave but I really wasn't in the right frame of mind to spend time with a whole bunch of people. I felt emotionally drained. Also, it didn't feel fair on Lynn, but I suppose I'll have to get used to that. "Have you spoken to him? Is he settling in?"
"Yeah he loves it! He's already been to a couple of parties," she laughs. "Please can we do something this weekend for my send-off, though? I really want one last night going out here before I head off to LA."
"Yes, definitely," I smile.
We arrive at what Marlene says is the prison, and so far it doesn't look as daunting as what I thought it might. It's a low-key seemingly run down concrete building, places of it are covered in wood panelling that seriously needs re-painting. The car park is small, but with only a few spaces left. Marlene pulls up in the one that's nearest the entrance and pulls the key out of the ignition, whilst still leaving the radio on quietly.
"So, you just go through those doors," she points to the entrance. "And there is a reception area as soon as you walk in, can't miss it. There will probably be a queue, but you have to sign in and listen to the instructions before you go anywhere else. So, after that you should be good to go, there will be someone to tell you what's what," she smiles.
"Thanks, you sure you'll be alright waiting out here?"
"Yeah, I'll just listen to the radio, you're only allowed to see her for half an hour." Half an hour, that's what our time has been limited down to. "You might want to just leave your bag and phone and stuff in here so that you don't have to bother paying for a locker."
"Right, okay. I'll see you soon then," I unbuckle my seatbelt and shove my bag on the car floor, but not before taking out my passport and shoving it in my pocket. When I hop out of the car, I feel a heavy weight in my chest anchoring me down, but I must remember to stay calm and grounded for Lynn's sake if not my own. I walk through the car park, venturing through the automatic sliding doors of the main reception area of the prison. As Marlene described, there's a couple of people sat behind a glass separation wall, typing away furiously at their computers whilst simultaneously checking people's passports and driving licenses. The carpet is firm and tough under my feet, bobbled with incessant use. The room is filled with shiny metal seats and benches, and artificial house plants carelessly placed in various corners. The walls are coated with grey metallic lockers, and people mill around them trying to shove their belongings into the tiny cubby holes. I join the back of the queue behind a short dark-haired man, patiently waiting to check myself in. I stand in line for about five minutes before it's finally my turn. The man asks me for my identification in a monotonous, disinterested voice, and asks me to sign my name on a form below many other's. He informs me that phones aren't allowed in the prison and to place any belongings into one of the lockers, but I assure him that I have nothing except for my passport, so he gives me the 'ok' to walk through to the security checks. I walk over to a female prison officer who is standing by the door, she smiles at me tightly and leads me into a small stuffy hallway. First of all she checks my pockets, before instructing me to walk through the large metal detector. This is all very similar to the security checks at the airport, and I have to remind myself that I'm in a prison, not a touring destination. She pats me down lightly, which is easy due to my choice of clothing, and instructs me to join the back of yet another queue. We all stand there for about ten minutes, before we're finally lead into a reasonable sized meeting room, illuminated by the flouresant lighting and stark white walls. The navy blue carpet and small rectangular tables, with a chair placed by each side gives a classroom-like feel to the place. I always hated school. I stand awkwardly for a moment, continuing to examine my surrounding. There are a couple of vending machines with handwritten 'out of order' signs lazily taped to the front, and one wall is plastered in government posters.
"Please, take a seat at one of the tables Ma'am," the same prison officer tells me. I do as she says, gingerly sitting on the plastic seat on a table in the corner of the room. Eventually, I hear a buzzing noise, and the door at the other end of the room opens. People, who I assume to be prisoners, donning grey sweatpants, sweatshirts or khakis all file into the room looking sullen and excitable all at the same time. When I see her, I can see why Four didn't want me to be alone. Her hair hangs dry and limp around her face, the side of her shaved head has grown out in tufts. An incredibly deep blue and purple colour surround her eyes— which look more like pits— and her skin is garishly white. She looks frail and translucent. She walks over to me too timidly, without even lifting her head from where it hangs between her shoulders. She sits in the chair opposite me, placing her bloodied bitten fingers on the table top.
"Lynn," I croak. She finally looks up at me, her eyes somehow still holding onto that spark. Her face twitches, and the table shakes due to her incessant fidgeting.
"Hey, Tris," her voice sounding nervous and on-edge. "I-I didn't think you'd come see me," a nervous laugh bubbles in her throat, soon becoming hysterical. She swallows a few times, calming herself down. She's broken. And she's deranged.
"How are you?" I know that asking this seems pretty pointless, but I want to talk about the fact that she is seemingly out of her mind. The only person I would want to talk to about Lynn being crazy is…Lynn.
"I'm fucking dying in here Tris," she gives me a look of desperation. "It's good to see you though. I'm sorry you have to come here."
"Don't be sorry, I want to see you."
"I bet you don't want to see me like this," she snorts. "Don't worry, it's just the cravings. I'll get my head screwed back on soon enough. I promise."
"I didn't realise you were taking that many," I admit sullenly.
"Honestly, neither did I." There's an air of uncomfortable silence between us before she elaborates. "I think it's good though, getting clean. Then when I'm out of here I won't need all that shit."
"You'll be out of here soon enough. Are you keeping your head down? Is anyone bothering you?"
"Nah it's cool. They all know I'm just a stupid kid with no money so they just leave me to it."
"I really miss you," I say.
"Do you?" She replies, in an almost accusatory tone.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," she sniffs loudly, even though she doesn't have a cold. "Shauna just said you were fine."
"Obviously I get lonely without you."
"Yeah," she scoffs. I frown for a moment, wondering what she's getting at. She continues to bite her nails and bob her leg up an down, now sitting sideways on the chair.
"Hector is doing really well at football, Zeke and Shauna take him every Tuesday and Saturday, he's scored quite a few goals, especially since Zeke taught him a few tricks. Shauna has been videoing it all for you so you can watch it when you get back. And I know when you get out you won't be able to leave the house and all, but he's been playing with Zeke in the back garden and he can't wait to show you everything that-"
"Is that your t-shirt?" Lynn cuts me off. I stare at her in silence for a moment.
"No, it's not." I reply. She nods her head a little, before carrying on with the nail biting. "So, as I was saying… Hector is really looking forward to seeing you. Your mom and dad don't want him to come here because he's still only young, but I'm sure he's going to keep you company when you come home."
"Home? Tris, don't you get it? That place was never my home. It's a place where I felt rejected and unwanted. And now I'm being forced to spend a year in there, without being allowed to escape for even just five minutes. Do you know how painful that's going to be? How torturous it's going to be? Having my mom hover over me all day, telling me how she's going to get me 'cured' and bring the priest round to banish the awful thoughts I have about other women, and the thoughts I have about death and drugs. I'd rather be here."
"I'm sorry, I didn't realise."
"Save it. You're too penned up in your own little world. Don't worry, I am too. That's why we get on so well," she smirks. I don't feel like returning her humour, because no matter how light-hearted she acts, her words still hurt me.
"So what's life like on the inside?" I ask her, changing the subject.
"Controlled, on edge, meaningless. Like I said, I keep to myself. They're all older than me and have more... life experience," she laughs, obviously implying a double meaning that I don't understand. Lynn has always been one to turn her back on the crowd, she looks out for herself.
"Does it get really lonely?"
"I mean, I guess. I have books to read because there's a library, and my job is to help clean the outside area so I spend most of my time doing that. It helps that I get to see you guys and speak to you on the phone." She gives me eye contact now, more engaged in the discussion. "But I'm not a prison wife if that's what you're getting at." I nearly choke on thin air when she says this, most of the people in the visitation room start staring me down.
"No, that's not what I was getting at. At all."
"Good, because I wouldn't 'befriend' anyone in there, for Marlene's sake."
"Okay…How is Marlene? I mean, I haven't really talked to her about you or anything."
"She's fine, I guess," Lynn sighs. "I saw her on Monday, and I've spoken to her on the phone twice since then. But she's going across country next week so God only knows when I'll next see her."
"You'll still be able to have phone calls with her," I smile reassuringly.
"Suppose. I just get jealous, she has her own life to live and I'm not apart of it."
"If she wants you to be apart of it then you will be. But if she wants to go her own separate way, then you're just going to have to let her." It's the harsh reality, but I'm not going to coddle Lynn with a twisted version of the truth.
"I know," Lynn mutters. Just as she does, a loud bell rings through the room, and people start to stand up from their tables. "Crap, that's it. Got to get back now," she says whilst standing up.
"That wasn't even half an hour!"
"It's just the way it is," she holds her arms out for me and I follow suit, walking round the table to hug her tightly before an officer tells us to break it up and for Lynn to head back. I notice that she doesn't smell like Lynn anymore. We say our final goodbyes, and I promise to visit her again as soon as possible. When I finally step out of the prison, I feel the relief of freedom. I breath in the fresh air, which is tinted with the smell of newly cut grass around the premises. I make my way over to Marlene's car, startling her when I open the passenger door. The musics playing loudly and she's busy tapping away at her mobile phone.
"Gosh you scared me!" she says. "How did it go?"
"Fine," I sigh, leaning my head against the window. "Thanks for taking me, but I'm dying to get home now."
"Sure," Marlene almost whispers, giving me a sympathetic smile. We drive home in silence.
It's quite late when we get back to my house, and Marlene doesn't hang around. I'm barely at home for half an our when I hear a solid nock repeatedly hitting the front door, as if someones hitting it with their boot. I stay frozen on the bed for a moment, my face scrunched up, before the nocking becomes even more impatient and I'm forced out of my confusion. "Coming!" I run down the stairs, and swing the door open, a little breathless.
"Hurry up or I'll drop it," Four pushes past me, carrying in his arms what looks to be a huge flatscreen.
"Jeez Four, what the hell is that?" I follow him into the living room where he places the TV on the empty cabinet, where our old far less superior looking one once sat.
"It's a microwave," he rolls his eyes at me. "I decided to turn my old games room into an office, so I don't need it anymore." He stands next to it, one hand on the top, proudly grinning.
"No way, I can't accept this," I shake my head and pull him away from it, ready to pick up one end.
"Seriously Tris, It's either bringing it here or donating it. I've had it since I was a freshman, me and Zeke used to play video games on it until three in the morning. I don't think I've switched it on for at least a year." He starts to plug in the power socket and aerial, disappearing behind the cabinet. I watch him bending down, but then avert my gaze when I realise I was staring inappropriately. He gets up, pulling his shirt town which had ridden up, and grabs the remote to turn it on. He starts setting it up, tuning in all the channels. "It still works great though, HD picture quality." I silently watch as all the channels begin to tune in, the fuzziness turning into flashing pictures.
"I don't know what to say, you really didn't have to do this."
"You could start with a thank you," he smiles.
"Thank you," I rush out, too quickly. "Seriously though, it's very kind of you. I appreciate it."
"No problem. I didn't see a point in me coming round here if there wasn't a TV to watch," he smirks.
"Shut up," I slap his arm. "My mom wasn't planning on replacing it. I think she was secretly thankful that I wrecked the old one, she's never been one for technology."
"She's going to love me then," Four laughs. "Oh, I forgot, go to the back seat of my car," he rummages in his pocket and pulls out his car keys, handing them to me. "There's Chinese food waiting for us. It will probably need heating up though." I grin at him and make my way out of the house to his sporty car, which now smells of chicken and noodles. I pull out the white plastic bag that's been sat on the back seat, heating up the leather and causing a humid wet patch. I lock the car door behind me and head back inside. We heat up the food, and splay it all out on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Four flicks through the channels, until he comes across a movie that just started five minutes ago. We eat and watch in silence, simply enjoying each others company like we so often do lately. It's nice to not feel so lonely, even if we don't talk our socks off. I like easy companionship like this, and so does he. When we're finished, and my legs are now tucked under me and Four's are perched up on the coffee table, one crossed over the other, he breaks the silence.
"So, go on, tell me about today," he says while still staring at the TV screen, his arms stretched across the back of the sofa.
"It was bad," I whisper. Now he turns to look at me, he deep blue eyes boring into mine. "She wasn't the same."
"No," he says as if he already knew.
"She made me feel guilty, like I've done something wrong but I don't know what."
"Don't let her. You haven't done anything wrong Tris. She's just going through a lot, and that sometimes makes people become bitter."
"I feel ashamed of myself sometimes though," I look down and fidget with the blanket that's draped across the sofa.
"Ashamed of what?"
"My thoughts." He keeps quiet for a moment, patiently waiting for me to expand, but I don't.
"What thoughts?"
"That," I take a deep breath. "That she's better off in there. That I'm kind of glad she's in there. Away from me."
"It doesn't make you a bad person," his hand falls from where it was resting on the back of the couch to press against my shoulders. The touch feels foreign.
"Doesn't it though?" I almost snap.
"No, it doesn't. We're all a little selfish sometimes, to protect ourselves. What's the good of being on this planet if we're not going to protect ourselves? Survival is human nature. Wanting to be happy is human nature. And you're not wrong for wanting to be happy."
"But I should be a friend. She's going to hate it when she has to stay in that house for a year. With her family. It's going to break her. And I know she'll expect me to sit with her all day, but honestly, I don't know if I can do that."
"You don't have to do anything that you don't want to. Ever. But, I think you should worry about all that when the time comes. Who knows what things will be like in three months time when she comes out."
"You're right," I sigh.
"Always am," he winks cockily. "Now, I don't have a clue what's going on in this stupid movie. Mind if I put something else on?"
"No, go ahead," I say around a yawn. He puts on some science documentary and I have no idea what it's about; I'm not even watching it. I stare at the floor and my body starts to become heavy, slipping down on the sofa.
I feel dizzy, like the ground is falling from underneath me. Then I feel gentle swaying, like the ocean is calmly engulfing me in it's waves. Then I feel my self bobbing up and down a little, before I'm finally still again. I wiggle a little bit, and realise I'm now laying down on my mattress, which only means Four was carrying me. Even though I'm half awake, I keep my eyes shut tight because I want him to think I'm still asleep. He pulls my socks off my feet and puts my legs together under the covers, covering my body with the duvet. He tucks the hair that's fallen in front of my face behind my ear, and now that my eyes are exposed I have to try incredibly hard not to twitch or move them around. I feel the mattress jostle as he leans over me, and when I sense he's standing next to me, I hear him flick through the pages of a book. I was reading my favourite novel this morning and left it on my bed as I always do. He sets it down on my bedside table, and for a moment I hear absolutely nothing. But when I feel the warm compress of his lips against my forehead, and the humidity and heat of his breath against my hairline, I almost blow my cover of deep slumber. I feel as though I'm melting deeper and deeper into the mattress, a strange sensation overcoming me. He turns off my bedside lamp, and the click of the button echo's through my room. That's soon followed by his slow, cautious footsteps as he leaves, closing the door behind him but not without leaving it open ajar, just enough so that the light from the landing still pours through like sunlight breaking through the clouds. I open my eyes to the darkness, and listen to him walk down the stairs. I hear the scrape of metal against glass as he lifts his car keys from the side table. The front door slams shut behind him, and I can faintly hear his engine light up, and the sound of tire on tarmac as he drives away. I wish he had stayed.
Stay tuned for the next chapter...things are going to heat up a little...that's all I'm saying ;)
As always, thank you for the lovely reviews! Especially to the guest reviews who I can't reply to directly. Your words make me smile. :)