Chicago State University - A Divergent Story. [EDITING]

Chapter 11 - Dreaming Of Her.

Walking down the path, Four watched her. Tris. The way she walked, the way she talked, heck, even the way she breathed was perfect to him.

"Tris?" he said.

"Yes?" Tris said, craning her neck to look up at him.

The sun was setting, giving an orange glow to the buildings of Chicago, the sky a luminescent pink colour. Shadows danced around on the ground, making Four think of Peter Pan teaching Wendy how to fly. Then he thought about them, he was Peter and she, Wendy.

"Never mind." he said, and smiled down at her. He took her small hand in his large one. Her skin felt soft like butter, he liked that.

They were walking through Chicago, back to school. Natalie and Andrew had offered them a ride, but Tris had refused saying she wanted some alone time with him. Four would never tell her, but that was like sweet music to his ears.

Four didn't know why he loved her so much, as he had never felt this way about any other girl before. It was crazy to think he had fallen for her so fast considering he'd known her for about three weeks.

Love wasn't an easy thing to pin point in his life. What with the relationship he had with his parents, hell, the relationship his parents had with each other. Nothing was simple.

Sure he'd been with other girls before, but he'd only been with them to feel something again, feel loved again. His father had left scars upon him, mental and physical which he would tell Tris about one day.

They got back to school just as the sun had set. They watched the sun fall ad the moon rise, taking it's place. Stars dotted the sky like silver glitter on black paper. He watched Tris' eyes sparkle in the moonlight, happiness warming him from the inside out.

Four walked her back to her room and she hugged him before going in. He heard her and Christina talking and giggling, so he left and went back to his room.

He stumbled into his room and collapsed onto his bed. He groaned from exhausted-ness, and spread his arms out wide. He felt like a starfish, stuck to a rock, but in this case the rock was his bed.

Four looked to the side, staring at the photograph that stood atop his bed side table. The photo showed a day out he and his family had had once, years ago. His father stood with his arms wrapped protectively around his mother and him. His mother gazed at her husband as if he were all the stars in the universe piled into one person. Four genuinely looked happy, his hair overgrown, his shirt too big and his cheeks rounder. They looked like a family.

Looked. Four scoffed, and knocked the picture out of his view. He shook his head, bad thoughts being replaced with better ones.

He shook off the wrath of his father, the picture of his mothers eyes. Nuzzling his head into his pillow, Four let himself drift away. His body became weightless, his mind became thoughtless.

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"Tobias." His mothers voice whispered, as three gentle knocks sounded on his door.

"Mom?" He mumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

His mother tip-toed into his room, her face streaked with black tears. Four gave her a look, and she nodded.

"What was it this time?"

"His best companion." His mother muttered.

"Huh?" Four asked, as his mother ruffled his ashy blonde mess he called hair.

"Vodka."

"Oh." Four said, as more black tears spurted out of his mothers green eyes.

She wiped them away on her sweater, also black. His light blue bed room became silent, unspoken words flying above their heads like butterflies.

His mother wrapped her arm around Four's back, embracing her son like mothers do. Four curled into her chest, tears escaping his own eyes.

"Don't cry."

"I don't understand."

"What don't you understand, Toby?" His mother asked.

"All the other boys dads in my class don't hurt them. Why does mine hurt us?" Four wondered.

His mother smiled at her sons innocence. "He doesn't know he's doing it. The vodka - it does something to his mind."

"Why?"

"I don't know. But let's not talk about it."

"Okay, mom." Four agreed, pulling his mother further onto his bed.

They climbed underneath the sheets, pulling them over their heads. Four stared at his mother, at her green eyes. He could hear his father smashing something downstairs, but the sheets were his force field. Something his father couldn't wreck, couldn't smash, couldn't break.

Just as he and his mother began to calm down, a pounding seemed to be coming up the stairs. His mother tensed, every bone and muscle in her body awakening and going into shock.

Four's bedroom door swung open, battering the wall behind it. The covers were ripped off them, leaving the two of them defenceless against the monster attacking them.

His father raised his bear claw of a hand, an earthy scream emerging from his throat. As his hand descended towards Four's face -

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Four shot up like a bullet shot out of a gun. He sat up bolt right, whip lash crashing onto him. He didn't even know that memory existed - but it was coming back to haunt him.

Nightmares.

If a dream was a wish that your heart made, what on earth was a nightmare?

Authors Note

Teeny tiny filler chapter. I have this plot line in my head, and I'm trying to incorporate it. Bear with me :))))

- Chlo