Chapter 6

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Karen's POV

She closes the door behind her and I walk to our bedroom after hanging my work bag and lab coat on the coat hanger near the door.
I skip into the room and throw myself onto the bed, sinking into the cooling blue covers. The taps of Jeanine's heels get louder, and soon she stands in the doorway with her scarlet lips and grey eyes in an amused smile. I giggle like an immature five year old.
"Who's cooking dinner tonight?" Jeanine asks lightly.
"You are," I respond jokingly, knowing that it is my designated night.
Jeanine sighs, "Off!" She orders while laughing. My love comes to me to push me out of the bed, and soon I'm on the ground while Jeanine takes my place. Together, we laugh. Who would know that the cold and analytical Jeanine Matthews could use her facial muscles to smile or laugh.
I sigh and start towards the bedroom door. When I reach the doorway I stop and twist around to face Jeanine. "What would you like for dinner?" I ask.
"Hmm... Soup?"
"Dessert?"
"You."
I stroll into the kitchen with a grin. I decide to make Jeanine's favorite soup: French Tomato Soup. Simple and easy to make. Besides, it can't hurt if Jeanine has a certain craving for French foods.
   In no time both Jeanine and I sit at the metallic dinner table in the penthouse dining room. For a long time, the two of us sit and silently blow and sip our serving of soup. That is until Jeanine decides to strike up a conversation.

Jeanine's POV

   The worry behind Karen's eyes bothers me too much. I can't stand the disregard for my curiosity much longer.   I have to ask, "Is something wrong Karen?"
   She looks surprised as she glances up at me. The soup slowly drips from her spoon and into her bowl, but she doesn't notice. Finally, after a few seconds she snaps out of her fearful daze.
   "No... Nothing's wrong," She says defensively. I know for a fact that she's lying.
   "Is there anything that you want to tell me?"

Karen's POV

  Yes Jeanine, there is something that I want to tell you. I want to tell you that I'm Divergent, but I can't. You would kill me. You would torture me. You would experiment on me. And worst of all, you wouldn't love me anymore.

I shake my head no. "No," I whisper.

Jeanine's POV

   I nod in approval but inside I just grow more frustrated at Karen's responses. I know that there is something bothering her, and she knows that I know. And yet she still doesn't want to share what exactly is irritating her!
     I sigh. I need to engage her. Maybe the best way to get her secret out to me, is to trick her into giving me one important detail. From there on, she will probably spill out the rest.
     The two of us finish our dinner and I offer to take the plates to the sink to be washed. Karen and I have long decided that we would do our dishes together. I give them to her, she scrubs them, and then I get them back to place on the drying rack or into the dishwasher.
     The question begs again. What are you hiding? What is your secret? I notice though as we clean the dish wear, that Karen is tense. When I look at her face, her eyebrows are hard and her eyes hold worry as she frowns. Now isn't the time to ask my question.
     We stroll to bed late into the night. We decided to watch a documentary together, and I couldn't confront Karen then, because her palms were sweaty as I held her hand. A definite signal of stress, anxiety, or tension.
     I hug her as we drift to sleep. She nuzzles into my shoulder. It's now or never. "Karen?" I ask in the darkness and quiet of the night. My voice seems amplified. But more than that there isn't a response. I decide to continue. "Whatever is bothering you sweet, you can tell me," I say. No response. "Please tell me," I whisper. Still no response.
     Karen is awake though. I can tell by the fast-paced drumming of her heart. Fear, anxiety? Something about my questions and confrontations makes her afraid. Then again, it could possibly  not be my questions, but her answers.

~•~

Yes Jeanine, there is something that I want to tell you. I want to tell you that I'm Divergent, but I can't. You would kill me. You would torture me. You would experiment on me. And worst of all, you wouldn't love me anymore.

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