A Sliver Of Light in The Night Sky

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A sound came from the back of my throat, and I took a step back; they both turned in tune, and stared into my eyes. Tobias's looked pleading, guilty; Milina's looked nasty, mean-girl.

"Oh, hey, Tris." She said, twirling a bit of hair around one finger.

"Tris?" Asked Tobias stupidly.

"You've met Tobias, right?"

"Tris?"

"Yeah; I've met him," I said, and, to my releif, my voice wasn't shaking, I just sounded distant.

"Tris?"

"Well," Milina said, obviously annoyed at Tobia's repeated intrest in my name. "We'll be on the dance floor, if you need us." She said, and I turned away as they entered through the double doors.

God, I hated her.

"Name?" Asked my biology teacher, who was maning the ticket stand.

I was walking by a row of bleachers miserably with a cup of punch when a hand wrapped around my upper arm, and flung me under them. I let out a sound of protest, a normal-volume, "Huh-" and my punch went flying. "What the fuck?!" I exclaimed, rapidly-adjusting eyes scanning the darkness for a target.

They didn't find one.

Hands shoved me into the wall, and held my arms over my head with one of theirs; I heard the scratch of a blade being unsheathed, and froze. A body pressed against mine, pinning me, and I felt my eyes glow.

"Who are you, what's your name?!" A voice yelled in my ear, not loud enough to be heard over the music.

"It's Beatrice-" I cut of with a gasp, at the cold metal, just under my elbow.

"What. Is. Your. Name?!" I could hear it now, the deepness, the anger. It was Four.

I was thinking very fast: If this was Four, and not some random guy from school, then he would want to know my nickname, the one with which I killed by, not the name my parents had given to me.

"Tris!" I gasped. "It's Tris."

"Is it, really?" He yelled, pressing the knife harder to my skin.

What the fuck, I've told you three times! My brain screamed. "Yes-yes- It's-Tris-it's a nickname, I swear-"

"I don't trust your swears!" He growled, and I could make out glowing eyes in the darkness in front of me. I sobbed on air, cowering into the wall, but my voice was steady.

"WHAT DO YOU TRUST, THEN?!" I screamed. And then, he smiled. And my blood chilled.

"Guys," he smiled. "Why don't you come over here?" A group of people, legendary in the eyes of any Wolfblood, began marching toward me: Eric, former Erudite, with a peirced face and blonde hair, second only to Four; Peter, third, who had black hair and dark green eyes, and was trigger-happy for torture: I knew he'd have no problem killing me, and he'd enjoy it on the way, too; Molly-with dark hair, and a lanky frame-and Drew-with carroty hair, and muscled arms-were both his minions, and that was the whole pack, but I thought I saw a new addition to the back. "Peter," Four said. "Likes torture, as you know. His power is of it." Four said, and moved to my right side, grabbing an arm. Eric did the same on my left, and Molly shifted behind me, wrapping her hands around my mouth the instant I began to scream; Peter stepped toward me, and I immeadiately tried to kick him. Drew knelt down, grabbing my feet and holding on, earning a broken nose.

Peter rubbed his hands together, and I caught a glipse of one, before he pressed it to my face, as if in a carress: a very dark brown all over his palm, like burnt paper.

The pain didn't inch up by increments; it wasn't some and then some more; it was all at once. It felt hot, hotter than sitting next to a campfire, or even that time she'd watched her family battle a neighbor's house fire. It stung, shredding my skin beneath his, and the pain intesified, after the sting of missing flesh, the meat of actual muscle and fat being cooked like a hot pocket. Each second, he pressed harder, the pain intesified, but the edges of my vision stayed clear, darness to far away from comfort.

And I screamed.

A/N I know it's short but I hope you liked it.