Wow, what a long time it has been… Almost five years later, I make my return. With just recently graduating, I have found more free time now amidst the horrible circumstances to come back to writing some stories like this. Hopefully, I'll be able to push new chapters and update sooner rather than later as opposed to how I used to update in my last story from middle school! If you guy have any suggestions or anything, leave it in the comments or PM me! AS A WARNING, this is a mature story for adult themes, suggestive themes, language that can be strong at times, and possible sexual content. I also do not own Divergent or its characters; just the plot and my writing. Happy reading!

-Prologue-

As I close the lid on the final moving box, the movers are snatching it from beneath my fingertips. The tape gun flies over the top as it conceals my belongings from flying out from the movers toss the boxes like there's no value in them. All that's left in the apartment is the stench of the movers sweating in almost ninety degree heat and myself with my thoughts. The apartment was never ideal because it is a hole in the wall and most likely not up to normal living standards, but it served its purpose in providing shelter over my head.

Typically, people are heartfelt and teary-eyed as they are leaving their first apartment behind because they're leaving the happy memories, good times, and friends behind. That is not the case here. I'm grateful to be leaving. I had no friends here, and if I did, I would have been beyond embarrassed to invite them to my apartment. All that is left is simply anguish and painful memories.

I look at the holes in side wall of my living room where bullets flew through the front window and into that wall in the middle of the night. The scratches on my front door remind me of when thugs broke in to search for money or goods to sell for drugs which consequently led to my first intimate encounter or sexual assault if you will. Paint peels from the walls because of the high humidity and cracking foundation. It's a wonder that the place hasn't been condemned, but the landlord makes easy money off low-income people such as myself.

As I slowly turn in a circle to see this place in its horror for one final time, I stop to face the door. I'm staring at the beginning of a new future. Less than ten steps. I'll be free from my past here in just ten steps. A million questions battle with my conscience in this moment.

Left.

What if nothing changes?

Right.

It will. It has to.

Left.

How will I be able to adjust?

Right.

Just breathe and believe in yourself.

Left.

What if it's not the future I've hoped for?

Right.

Don't think like that.

Left.

When will this finally feel acceptable?

Right.

Soon. Just be patient.

Left.

Is there any good left in this world?

Right.

There has to be.

I turn around as I close the door. I take the rusty key from my front pocket, shove it into the deadbolt, and lock the door for one final time. This apartment will never see me ever again. Goodbye Apt. 1064.

As I walk down this corridor for one final time, I feel a weird sensation. It's not nervousness or fear. I don't know what it is exactly, but I feel relieved with whatever it is. I reach the glass doors that lead out onto the street where my car and moving van sit waiting. On the other side if that door, a new life awaits. Opportunity has the chance to blossom. A new job waits miles away for me to clock in. My hand reaches to that handle to push forward, and one question floods my mind again.

Is there any good left?