Here is the next chapter. I hope that you enjoy reading this chapter. I know that it is on the shorter side, but next chapter will be longer, and there will be some interesting things happening. Thank you to everyone who took the time to review the last chapter and to everyone who took the time to read this story thus far. Happy Reading!

Chapter 4 I'd Lie

I dream about Four, mostly about his eyes, and, for some unknown reason, it is one of the best dreams that I have had in a while. I wake with a smile on my face, but reality comes crashing back to me far too quickly when the plane lands on the black tarmac; a chipper voice comes over the intercom: "Welcome to San Francisco International Airport in San Francisco, California. The temperature today is seventy-six, partially sunny, with a light northwesterly breeze. Thank you for flying United. We hope you enjoy your stay and fly with us again soon."

Wonderful! I am home. I am back to my miserable existence. I get up from my seat, stretching my legs, waiting for all the other passengers to exit the plane first, then walk at a snail's pace out to the general waiting area where the public meets travelers. I see Peter standing there waiting for me by the gate, I force a smile to my face, and quickly walk over to him. Peter is dressed in all black, a black shirt, black jeans, and, over the black button-down shirt, he is wearing a black sports coat. His hair is combed back, and his green eyes are harsh looking as they meet mine with accusations written in them as he taps his fingers against his jacket. He is handsome on the outside; he looks kind, but his inside doesn't match it. Inside, he is ugly. He is someone that I want to escape because I deserve happiness, but I don't know how yet.

Peter is more bulky muscle, whereas, Four's muscles are more defined; he looks leaner. As I look into Peter's eyes, I notice that I like Four's mysterious dark blue eyes much better than Peter's harsh green ones. Wait! Why am I comparing Peter to Four? I need to get over him and stop romanticizing the situation. Clearly, I have been reading too many romance books. Four isn't going to sweep me off my feet and save me from Peter. I need to do that for myself, but I can't. I need to protect Caleb. Not to mention, I threw Four's note away in the trash on the plane. I tell myself that I didn't bother memorizing it because I will never see him again, but in the back of my mind, I know his number by heart just from staring at it for a few short minutes as I contemplated what to do with that yellow sticky note. I briefly thought about putting his number in my phone, but I didn't.

Peter is always going through my phone. I'm not allowed to keep secrets from Peter or so he says. He grabs a hold of me when he sees me and says "Tris, I'm so glad you are back home. I missed you." I know this is all a display for the public to show how great of a guy he is as he looks at everyone surrounding us greeting their loved ones.

I hug him back saying, "I missed you too." The back of my mind is calling me a liar.

"How was your visit with Christina? I want to hear everything. I will have to go with you the next time you see her." He says smiling at me. I can see the anger deep in his eyes, wanting to yell about whatever he is angry about, probably about my flight home being canceled if I had my guess.

"I would like that," I say smiling back at him, playing along with his nice act, secretly wondering what got into him right before Peter roughly grabs my hand as an outward display that I am with him when he sees other guys staring at me, and drags me to the luggage area. He hulks my bag off the carousel, and says angrily "See how slow you are Tris? You are so slow that your bag was the last one here. You are lucky they didn't bring it to lost and found."

I don't reply to him knowing that if I do it will just piss him off even more. He roughly pulls me out the sliding glass doors. He walks so fast that I trip over the curb, and I fall on my hands and knees scraping them, wishing that maybe a car would hit me as one zooms past me, honking its horn. He stares down at me with anger in his eyes as he sneers "Look what you did."

I look up at him from the ground rubbing my hands together as people walk past me staring, no one offers to help me. Peter bends over like he is going to help me up, but, instead, he whispers sinisterly "I should make you walk back to the car like this on all fours, but since you just got home. . ." He stops suddenly as he muses to himself "And we are in public, I will let you get up."

I lag behind, limping as Peter shoots me evil looks, as we continue walking to the car. A single tear falls, but I refuse to give Peter the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I need to stay strong for myself and for Caleb. I'm crying because deep down, I know that I should have stayed with Christina in New York and started fresh. I reach the car that Peter drives, he is already in it, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel looking pissed. He yells at me "Let's go, Tris. You are so slow. I don't have all day. It amazes me that you are able to keep your job with how slow you are."

I try to ignore his comment. I work hard at my job; I take pride in being a nurse, and I am a damn good nurse, he just doesn't know it. Peter drops me off at the house, as I am getting out of the car he holds his hand out and says "Phone! Before I go to work."

"Why?" I ask frustrated about his lack of respect for my privacy.

"You know the drill. I pay the bills. I get to know what you were doing on that thing while you were gone." He sneers at me.

I hand my phone over, knowing, if I refuse to, it will only cause an argument. He looks through everything, listens to every voicemail, looks through every text message, and looks up my browser history. Shit! I forgot to wipe my browser history, and I had been researching different military uniforms while I was stuck in the airport eating lunch. He hands me back my phone. Once again, I turn to leave when I feel a rush of air move past my face.

"You lying bitch! Looking at other men, were you?" He yells.

"No Peter, I wasn't. I swear." I say panicking.

"We will talk about this when I get home tonight." I slam the door shut to the car as he takes off down the road speeding to his job where he pretends to be a bartender. Instead, he comes home drunk every night.

The reality that Peter almost hit me in the face smacks me. He has never hit me before. He has grabbed me too roughly and left bruises before but never hit me. I know I need to leave, but I feel trapped. I don't have any place to go. Every night, I hope that death will come because it will be easier than having to live with Peter. I call Christina crying, and she does her best to console me over the phone. I calm down enough to be able to function. I unpack my suitcase, start laundry, and start cleaning the house. At some point during the night, I pass out. I wake abruptly when a front door slams. "Honey, I'm home!" slurs a drunken Peter.

I pretend to be sleeping, not wanting confrontation. He crawls into bed, kissing my cheek, I can smell the alcohol on him, along with smoke. The smell makes me want to vomit. Finally, about three minutes later, he is out cold, snoring. The next morning, I wake to his side of the bed empty, and I briefly wonder where he is. Although, I really don't care. I look out the window, noticing him helping someone move into the other side of his house, that he rents out as a source of income. I dress in a pair of black sweatpants, a pale blue t-shirt, throw my hair up into a messy bun, and I walk out the door to be surprised by what I see unwinding before my eyes.

Who hates Peter even more than last chapter and wishes he would meet an untimely death? Any guess on what is going on next door, rather who might be moving in? I will be updating with the next chapter on the weekend of June 23, until then please review and let me know what you think of this chapter!