Heartless

Chapter 11: Final Preparations

Quietly, I stood on the porch of number 37, observing the street like I have done since Tobias left the night after Tris, I had the same sick, gut-wrenching feeling I had after the attack on Abnegation. I heard Eric moving on the floor above me, in Evie's room, the room next door to my own, the room supposed to be for the third Eaton child.

The one which never existed.

He knew that I wouldn't, and couldn't, be deterred from this ritual; it drove him mad.

I took a seat on the concrete step, where I used to snatch a few precious moments of peace before I went inside and faced Marcus, but the only people inside were Eric and Evie.

Evelyn had kicked Marcus out, my eyes flicked to the scrubby part of grass which was the house's lawn, where the fight between Marcus and Evelyn had transpired, the fear I felt during it stuck with me for the rest of the day, dredging up murky memories of Evelyn's cries and Marcus's rage and fists.

I glanced at my watch, it was eighteen past five, "Eric, I'm going on a walk." I informed him, standing at the base of the staircase, "okay." His bodiless voice replied, floating down the stairs. "Don't forget you coat."

The temperature had dropped considerably, especially in the evenings, as fall quickly turned into winter, and I always forgot my coat, I pulled it off the banister and headed outside, immediately shoving my hands deep into the large pockets to keep the chill of the evening biting into the skin.

Most nights I needed to clear my head before bed, being back in the Abnegation sector and that house, was harder than I anticipated, I seemed to have shrunk back into Abnegation Sasha, startled at any noise louder than a whisper, let alone a yell. I tried to hide it, I was very skilled at deception in that field, but it was getting harder and more draining to keep it up.

Silently, I trudged down the cracked sidewalks, avoiding the craters in the ground which revealed the sewage works that snaked under the city, the smell made me gag, instead I covered my mouth and nose with the material of my jacket and sped past. I didn't stop until I reached the squat concrete building which we went to every Sunday, it was mandatory in our household, but not of Abnegation as a whole.

That's when I saw him. Marcus.

I felt my muscles stiffen as my eyes dropped down to the brown bottle held loosely in between his fingertips. My breath hitched in my throat. I turned and sped away.

"Easy. Where are you going my girl?" His voice held an oily quality, it clung uncomfortably to my skin, I glanced down at his hand which was secured around my arm, his blunt nails digging into my bicep muscle.

"Your girl?" I spat without thinking, "I'm not your girl."

The pressure increased, and I felt the blood leave my arm, my eyes narrowed of their own accord, as the voice in the back of my head jeered 'not his girl, his victim.' causing me to bite my lip.

"Of course you are my girl."

My victim.

"Who else raised you?"

Beat you.

"Who else taught you your alphabet? To count numbers on your fingers?"