Eaton

15. A Day with the Priors

Tris p.o.v.

I make my way home through the streets of my neighborhood. As I run I think about Tobias. Well really I think about his bruise. How did he get it? It can't have been the table for sure. I've never been exactly graceful so, believe me, I'd know what a bruise from a coffee table looks like. And even if it was the coffee table, why would he be so hesitant to tell me? Surely he can't be the type to shy away from clumsiness, especially around me. I turn onto our street. I love these days. These quiet Sundays where Caleb and dad sleep in. Where mom and I wake up earlier and share a breakfast. I couldn't do all this back in New York. Too many cars, my parents were always busy. My grandparents died when I was a child and since my father is an only child and my mom's sister moved to France as a teen, they're the only family I know. The sun shines and warms my face as I draw nearer to my house. I wonder if Tobias is up. Maybe we can talk more today... I want to find out where the bruise is from.

Tobias p.o.v

I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty sure that I have just eaten my entire body weight in pancakes and bacon. Oh God the bacon. I haven't had anything other than oatmeal and toast for breakfast since... since mom died.

I am torn between loving and hating this place. The warmth I feel here reminds me of Evelyn. More importantly, her absence. My chest aches at any trace of her. I never visit her grave. I'm not allowed to. Once Marcus caught me trying to leave the house to go to her and stopped me. What he said to me that day hurt more than any belt, punch or kick ever could. I still remember each and every one of them. The hatred and hurt and disappointment he said them with... they broke me. Believe it or not that was the day I started hating him. Not the day he hit me with his belt for the first time, or the day he broke my most precious belonging -it was a beautiful blue glass statue given to me by my mother. It was in the shape of falling water. I treasured it. I'd keep it on a high shelf to make sure it's safe. He grabbed it, one day when he was mad at me, at threw it at the ground near my feet, smashing it. I remember how I had cried, trying to piece it back together. It was useless. The glass cut my hands and made me bleed but there was no fixing it. He had destroyed it. Like every other precious thing in my life. He'd hurt me in so many ways before and after and yet I didn't hate him. Until that day came up, when he saw me trying to sneak out and he gripped my shoulder and pinned me to the wall. I remember how he slapped me when I wouldn't tell him where I was going. How he held his arm up, high above my face... threatening me with another. I'd told him, in one breath, where I was going and he took a step back. For a moment I didn't see my father. The cold, brutal, proud man. No. Instead I saw this weak, lonely widower with eyes full of hurt. A hurt that seemed to come from deep within. For a moment, the great Marcus Eaton looked, dare I say, vulnerable.

But it was gone in a flash. Instead his familiar unloving eyes glared at me. His voice, like a cutting knife, ripped my person to shreds.

'Why should you visit her? She's dead now. She's gone. We're better off anyway'

I stood there, shocked. He'd said and done many cruel things in the past, but this... this was a new low.

I turned around, that day, and went back up to my room. I didn't eat with him (though I doubt it bothered him). I didn't speak to him or look at him. I just completely cut him out.

I miss my mother. She was a ray of light in my blacked out world. Without her I had nothing to hold on to. I miss the way she would smile at me whenever our eyes met. The way she could make every situation better with just a single look. I miss the little things the most. Like the way she would squeeze my hand when we sat in the back of Marcus' car. Or how she would always open my bedroom door a crack before going to bed. When she died I couldn't find a way to go on. I would dream about her, still do. In a way my father's uncaring manners helped me get over her death. His constant orders without cease filled my days with chores and made me busy. Enough to give me no time to dwell on my dead mother. Eventually I stopped thinking about her altogether. She is only brought up on days like these, when something triggers the memories of her beautiful brown hair and her green eyes and hooked nose. Anger courses through me. WHY DID SHE HAVE TO DIE? WHY COULDN'T IT HAVE BEEN HIM?!

I cradle my head in my hands and bite my lip to hold back the tears which have welled in my eyes.

'Are you alright, Tobias?' Mrs Prior. She is just like her. I look up.

'Uh yeah I uh my neck just hurts a bit'

'Oh well, did you have enough pillows last night, dear?' My chest aches and I feel a slicing pain through my heart. Why did it have to be her?

'Yes ma'am. It's probably nothing.'

She smiles and nods. She's about to say something else but in that moment, Tris walks in, sweat lining her shirt collar.

'Hey' She says, still a little out of breath from her run.

I smile at her.

'I think I'm gonna go take a shower. I'll be down in twenty minutes'

Her mother nodded and after a few minutes stood up from her seat.

'I'd better go wake the boys up, we have to get ready for lunch. Your father invited us over'

I nodded trying to ignore the growing balloon of tension in my stomach. The carefree feeling I'd had till now is gone. Replacing it is the growing anxiety of messing up again. This is a second chance to dine with the Priors in my father's presence. If I make a mistake now, there's no going back.

Tris p.o.v.

I stand in my bedroom, dressed and ready to leave. Marcus invited us over for lunch as a sign of gratitude towards my father, for taking care of Tobias. We're leaving in about half an hour and I'm determined to find the source of the massive blue-green monster on Tobias' side. I just need to word it well.

I walk towards the guest room and walk in without knocking. Tobias lies upside down, with his legs on the bed and his head on a pillow on the floor. His shirt is sliding towards his head and the bruise shows. The instant he sees me he rolls over and gets up. Well, he tries to... what he actually does is roll over, crash onto the floor, landing on his side, and curse as he gets up. Nice.

'Uh Tris, hi. Are we leaving?'

He pulls his shirt down.

'No. I uh just wanted to talk'

He nods and sits on the bed, patting the empty space next to him. I take a seat next to him and he looks at me expectantly.

'What did you trip on?'

'Hmm?' He looks confused and I can see him try to understand what I mean. He did lie. I knew it! If he were telling me the truth yesterday, he'd have no trouble recalling the incident today.

'The bruise on your side. Yesterday you said you tripped and bumped with the table. What did you trip on?'

Realization takes over his eyes and I can see him, in that moment's hesitation, trying to find an excuse.

Don't lie to me.

'My shoes' Liar!

'Oh okay. You should take care not to leave them in the middle of the room then' Any affection I might have felt towards him till now is gone. I stand up to leave.

'Wait Tris'

I turn around, eyebrow raised at him. For a second I expected him to tell me the truth. I thought, for a fleeting moment, that he would open up and tell me what it was really about. But instead all he says is 'Never mind'.

I nod and leave the room. Never mind? NEVER MIND? Fine. If people should know one thing about me it is this, you'll either tell me the truth or you'll tell me nothing at all.

A/N

Hey everyone. I decided to update earlier this week since I had enough time to write. I hope you have/had a nice day and that you like the update.

xxRachele :)