Chapter 8

Tris

I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist, like it doesn't exist

I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry

I'm in a room, it's so small to the point it almost makes me feel claustrophobic. The room has no windows so I have no idea what time it is or if I scream, that some person would hear me. Where am I? Someone materializes in the corner of the room, a man. His build strong but his face black as if it were a mask. Why would he be wearing a mask? I struggle to move for my wrist, feet and mouth are all bound. I continue to struggle against the restraints. I don't want to die but then again, maybe I do. It would be a lot easier than fighting everything. Maybe…

The man moves closer slowly, as if he were a cat approaching his prey. His hands balled into fists and he holds a knife in one of them. A knife! That's it I'm so dead now. Tell the world I hate it, tell everyone who even gives the smallest fuck about me, thank you. Why is it always me! It's always fucking ME! No matter how hard I try, I always get the shitty way. I always choose wrong, and here I am silently praying that this man will kill me. Maybe I should just accept the fact that I'm going to die.

"GO AWAY! PLEASE! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! Please…. Please." I yell, but my voice is muffled by the robe that burns my mouth.

The man grabs my hair and hoist me up, cutting my restrains but holding the knife to my neck.

"Pick up the gun and shoot those people or you die." He whispers his voice, cold, hard and emotionless as if he were a robot.

Slowly four people materialize before my eyes. The people I have to kill, their features appear in one swift movement. My eyes rake themselves upon these people, the only people I ever cared for.

"It is okay, Beatrice. I understand why you have to do it, sweetheart." I suck in a breath, my mother whom I love with all my heart, stands before me telling me to kill her.

"Go ahead, baby girl, I'll still love you. I'll always love you, baby girl." My father, the one who always had a hard time with emotions, told me he loved me.

"Mum? Dad? MUM!? DAD!? Please….. Please don't leave me. I need you… don't go. Please, please." I yell although they don't seemed fazed by my outburst. They stand there in all their glory. I whisper, "I love you."

"Beatrice, your life is much more important than mine, I'll forever understand." My brother, the good kid, the one who has a life, the one who I love with all my heart even though he left me to die in a fail of a life.

"Tris, do it. I don't belong on the earth, but you have an entire life waiting for you. Go get it." Al the person who betrayed me but who I never stopped caring for. Tears pour down my cheeks, these people would give their lives just so that I could be happy. These people have so much more to live for, so the answer becomes obvious.

I pick up the gun of the table, the cold metal, powerful in my hands. It weighs more than I thought it would. I turn the barrel away from my loved ones and point it at the head of the person who caused my own misery. The person who brought this upon me, the person who's fault this all is.

And shoot.

The pain surrounds me, but I don't feel it. The only thing I feel is the emptiness that comes with the darkness that swallows me whole. I embrace the fact that I will die, that I'm dying. I let the darkness consume me, I let it be me. And the world falls away.

But then it didn't. I suddenly, I become more aware that there are a pair of big, strong arms wrapped around my entire body. All I could see was the darkness, nothing. My eyes searched for something, anything that would give me a hint to what was going on.

Tris' eyes open, heavy and tired. She finds herself in a large room, on a sofa, covered in large arms. The person smelt of sweat, metal and something significantly male. Tears wheeled up in Tris' eyes. She missed her parents, the way her mother would sing to her or the way her father hugged her as if he could keep all her pieces together with one hug. Hell she even missed her brother, the way he was way to over protective of her.

Tears poured down her cheeks, she wrapped her arms around this man and sobbed. She cried because her parents were dead. She cried because her brother didn't care about her. She cried because she is an alcoholic, she cried because she'd never get away from Peter and his infinite insults. That's when it hit her, this man had saved her, and this man was Four.

"Four?" Said the smallest voice she had ever used. She was vulnerable, her voice quite. She had never heard this side of herself. She hated this side, she needed to be strong, she needed to fight and she did NOT need pity.

"Yes, Amanda?" She cringed, the fake name was like a slap to the face. She needed an excuse to prove that she was fine. He most likely expected to hear an explanation as to why Peter lashed out and she fought back.

"Don't you want to know why Peter lashed out at me?" He scrunched his eyebrows together, confused at her question, she found it quite adorable.

"Only if you want to but if you do start from the start, the very start." He surprised when he told her this. She had expected to have to tell him all the details in between her and Peter. She had a choice here but felt obliged to answer his one request. She took a deep breath and began, spilling herself for this man she didn't know.

"I was born December 11th 1993, I have an older brother named Caleb who is born on February 14th 1992. My parents were young when they has us, my mum was 18 and my dad was 19, so growing up it was hard and we never had much or got much, they were very much in to putting other people before themselves and taught us the same.

"My brother and I were as close as could be, in elementary school he was one of my only friends, I only had four. We hung out all through to middle school and then they slowly disappeared. Two of them were brother and sister moved away to Greece, the other one abounded me with my brother. It bothered me to no end, was he too good for me? But no, I later found out that he had been asked to attend a boarding school across the country, and he was just slowly letting me go." She took a deep breath. It was a harder story to tell than she thought it would have been. She wanted to tell him everything but couldn't bring up the courage to do as much. Why was it so hard for her to open herself up? She forced herself to continue. The words spilling like alcohol in a cup.

"High school was the years that changed me, I was smaller than most girls and shyer. I was called many things by boys and girls, hell the whole school population thought they were better than me. I didn't know anyone and no one made an effort to be my friend. In till half way through the year, a boy named Albert, although he preferred to be called Al, came to our school. He was sweet and we became friends easily because he was made fun of for his size. He stuck by my side talked me through the times I wanted to end my life, he was the only person outside my family that cared for me." She paused and choked on her words, this was the worst part. She refused to let him know it all, so she bit it all back.

"Senior year came around and Al became friends with the popular kids, heck he even got a girlfriend but left me to suffer on my own, that wa-was the first time I-I-I tried to commit suicide. It was the day before my birthday, that wasn't the worst part. My parents and I went shopping for my birthday, after I was cleared by the hospital as fit to leave. We went to a lot of places and they bought me a few things, nothing special. In till we got to a jewelry store, my parents bought me a locket, it is gorgeous." Should she tell him her parents were killed, shot down in front of her eighteen year old self? Should she tell him everything? No, no she couldn't. It was too dangerous for the both of them. She kept him from suffering from her fate.

"Anyways that was off topic, they died that day." She stifled a sob and continued. "I had been living on my own when I met Peter, he brought me in and cared for me but I don't want to bore you with the details." No matter how guilty she felt at this moment in time she needed him to be safe. She needed him alive, so he could care for her. She wanted him to care but couldn't push him in to a situation quite like that.

"So, he hasn't ever lashed out at you before?" Four asked, uncertain of himself. Of course he was uncertain. She never gave him anything that would give away the fact that she was anything other than a naïve girl that loved Peter.

"No, no he never has."

If he only knew.

Hey guys,

sorry I didn't update yesterday, I had a bit of writers block so I didn't finish writing in till 12:30 and my parents turn the wifi of at 9 so yah.

Question of the day: How old are you?

Answer of the day: Try to guess ;)