Familiar

1.0

A/N: GUYS I FEEL LIKE ABSOLUTE SHIT I AM SO SORRY I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO KICK ME IN THE SHIN ITS BEEN MONTHS SINCE I UPDATED I KNOW!! So I decideded to make a quick, crappy chapter because the guilt was eating me away. Also, I lost my original plans for this story, so I will have to redo them, I think it'll be better.

ONCE AGAIN IM SO SORRY FOR THIS LAME EXCUSE OF A CHAPTER AND NOT UPDATING.

Tobias' POV

The Prior's door shuts behind us with a gentle click, and I follow my father down the porch stairs, a slight bounce in my step that I try to smother before it is noticed.

It's fairly dark for five thirty, and chilly. I put my jacket on absentmindedly. Marcus huffs indigently in front of me. He probably had a bad day at work again, and didn't want to go to dinner. Actually, he probably didn't want to bring me. I'm surprised myself he ordered me to go.

I gulp. The walk to our home is a short one, and he will most likely still be moody, and take it out on me again. I sarcastically laugh in my head. All good things must come to an end.

We are in our neighborhood far too soon than I had hoped for, and Marcus trudges up the steps to our house and fumbles for the key, unlocking it and stepping inside. He all but slams it on my face, and I stumble back. I glance around nervously; stalling, as if doing so would give him time to cool down.

I take a deep breath and enter slyly, making no sound.

He is standing in the middle of the living room, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in a frustrated manner. He had discarded his shoes untidily on the floor next to the carpet, and his hair is ruffled, from running his hand through it. He always did that when he was irritated.

I go to sit on the couch farthest from him instead of heading up to my room. I remember the last time I went straight upstairs when he was angry. I shiver lightly from the memory.

"Those stupid Erudite. Do they actually believe they deserve Abnegations government spot? It's absolutely ridiculous."

He plopped down in the chair besides the couch, and I subconsciously inch away.

"Erudite are the most ignorant, selfish, self-centered people I have ever had the displeasure to meet." Marcus is mostly mumbling to himself now.

I can't help the slight chuckle that bubbles through my chest. The irony of my father describing the Erudite, it is exactly how I would put him in words.

His head snaps to me, and the light laugh gets caught in my throat, momentarily choking me. He stands up, and glides over in front of me, towering over my sitting position.

"Why are you laughing?" His voice is eerily calm, laced with the slightest hint of malice. Actually, that's always there.

I gulp. "I didn't mean to."

"You think I'm talking a pile of rubbish?"

"No, sir."

"Then answer me." He leans forward, his right hand suddenly squeezing my wrist I left on the arm rest. I yelp at the sudden contact. "Why were you laughing?"

He sounds each word out, slow and menacing. I wipe my free palm down my pant leg, it suddenly sweaty. I know I can't answer honestly, not unless I want to die. Metaphorically? I don't even know.

"I just think you are slightly overreacting."

I wince immediately when the words tumble off my lips; I probably could've came up with something better. I quickly open my mouth to mutter an apology, but a strong, large fist meets with my jaw and interrupts me.

A stinging pains shoots up my face and darkens my vision for a second. I clutch the now surely-bruised area, and bite my tongue to hold in the groan of pain. Marcus towers over me, his face devoid of emotion. Well, except anger.

"Overreacting? Say that again, boy."

I'm not sure which is worse; the blinding pain on my jaw or the sound of his voice, reminding me of a reoccurring nightmare.

"I'm sorry, sir." I say, looking at my feet.

"Yeah, well." the sound of leather against denim snaps my attention, and I freeze. I don't dare move, or even breathe.

"I'm sure you will be after this."

• • • • •

I crawl into bed, and hesitantly slip under the covers, wincing at every movement. The fresh wounds always hurt the most, especially on the rough fabric of my shirt. Reaching up and taking the tee off would pain me more than actually soothe the lashes on my back, though.

It's harder to ignore this time, the pain. I'm not even sure why, I've had more beatings than I can count on all my digits, each burning like a thousand fires, mind you, but this time is different in a worse way. Maybe because it is a reminder of how messed up I am, how Beatrice could do a thousand times better than me.

This was the first beating after I had met Beatrice, and she had healed me in so many ways, only for my father to tear it all down again.

I realize something, staring into the darkness above me surrounding the room. I realize I can't stay here any longer. When the time comes, I will leave Abnegation.

Moisture pools in my eyes. I will have to leave Beatrice.

~~~~

Wow that was awful I'm sorry. By the way, this isn't the end of the story, even if it sounded that way, I didn't know how to word it...thanks for reading !