No worries, I'll still be updating my story Concealed, but the idea for this one just won't escape my head. This story may contain some dark elements- such as murder, so please be warned before reading. This story takes place in present day and the characters are from the Divergent series.

- Don't think like that.

- You can't be in love him.

- But you are.

- You can't love a monster.

- You can.

It hurts to watch him walk away.

I know that it's not really rejection, but it hurts to be away from him. Even just for a few seconds. I don't know what will happen if we ever get separated for a long time- but something along "mental" and "crazy" seem about right. Isn't that what he is, now? My form of stability? I like to think that is true. That there is somehow a force keeping me constant in place. That he can protect me from the thoughts that are always trying to turn my mind dark. But I believe for this moment that maybe he isn't- as he distances himself, and removes his strong gaze.

However, the second that I could look at him again, it's obvious that nothing I have been saying is unrequited. His touch on my face feels stronger- more noticeable. And when he finally says it. The way he says it causes something inside of me to crash. There are suddenly tears in my eyes. Salty tears that sting to the touch, and I bury my face into the crook of his neck. Not exactly tears of fear, or of sorrow, but simply tears that I can't control.

"I don't understand it," my voice is shaky. Chest rising unsteadily.

"Any of it. I keep trying to tell myself that I'm depending too much on you. That I'm not keeping my guard up.. but I'm done fighting it. I'm done lying to myself."

ONE MONTH EARLIER:

All I've ever known are white walls. White walls, and blue tiles, and a squeaking noise when my shoes slid across the ground. The hallways in this new place share many of the same qualities. Except, the blue ceiling tiles that I am used to, are red. There are pictures of a cartoon bulldog in the hallway, instead of anti-suicide advertisements. There are people standing around me, actually engaged in a conversation, but I have grown up listening to only silence. Silence, and maybe a few death threats.

"You know," a voice from behind me interrupts my thoughts, "if you keep staring at the bulldog, it won't do anything to help us win the championship." I quickly spin around. This girl is not dressed in a blue hospital gown- but in a t-shirt with a band that I do not recognize. Her jeans are shredded, and her colored red hair sits in a messy bun on the top of her head. I can never understand how girls manage to keep their hair like that. I've been keeping mine down, and natural, since the day that I was born. My eyes are busy studying her strange appearance, before I realize that she is expecting an answer.

"What?" I say, sounding stupid. She laughs at my apparent ignorance, and I wish that I could laugh with her. But I'm not ready for something as positive as laughing, yet. That's saved only for normal people.

"Nevermind. You're the new one, right?"

News travels fast here.

"Yeah," I nod, "My name's Tris."

"Prior?" she questions. I nod, and she smiles.

"Caleb's sister, right? He told us that you were joining school today. Said you've been home schooled for a while." I am suddenly thankful for Caleb. He didn't tell the other students the real story behind why I'm just now becoming a real high school Junior, and for that, I am grateful.

"That would be my brother."

"Cool. He throws pretty good parties, you know. Your reputation is already pretty high up."

I wasn't aware of that.

"I'm Christina." She reaches out to shake my hand, and I take it. I might be slightly awkward, but if there's one thing that I have practiced- it's introducing myself. My mind, however, is on Caleb. He never seemed like a partier. Always getting good grades, and this information surprises me a little.

"Nice to meet you," I reply. I tuck a stray piece of my blonde hair behind my ear. This place is so cold- and the fans on the ceiling are practically blowing my shirt over my head.

"There's a party tonight at my place. Invited your brother, but he said he was busy- so maybe we should have another Parker there." Christina grabs something out of her bag and hands it to me. It's a piece of paper, with the ink slightly smudged. "That's my address. Show up at ten, if you want."

As if on cue, the overhead bell rings. My first day of real school has officially started.

"So how was it?" Caleb asks. His back is to me, and he is facing his computer screen. As always, the lights are off in his room. For someone with a reputation, he seems to be doing a whole lot of nothing.

"Alright. Sort of boring, actually. But I got invited somewhere tonight." My voice is low. I don't want to have my dad overhear, because I know that he'll never let me attend a party. He's strangely protective of me. Overprotective, to say the least.

"Where?" Caleb asks, suddenly turning his chair around. His eyebrows are tense. I notice now, in the low light, how alike we both appear. His dirty blonde hair matches my own- and our hazel eyes both stand out in a crowd.

"One of your friends' houses, actually. Christina. She talked to me about you."

"Shit," Caleb says. "What'd she tell you?"

"That you like to party."

"Don't you dare tell dad," he warns. I suddenly feel threatened by his voice. I have never, in all of my years of existence, seen him look so on- edge.

"Wasn't planning on it. But I'm going tonight. I need to make friends, okay? I can't spend the two years of normal school that I have stuck inside all night. That's not going to work."

"You're not going, Beatrice. You're not ready for parties like that. People will be drinking, and smoking and-"

I cut him off. "Really, Caleb? I was just told today that you practically live at these parties, so don't you dare try to tell me what I can and cannot do."

Suddenly, I feel angry. Red hot rage fills my cheeks, and it warms my blood. They taught us back in the hospital how to control anger, but I always slept during the sessions. Anger was not my problem. Anger will never be my problem. My problem will always, until the day I die, be the boy who is sitting right in front of me. The one who sent me in for a problem that was not mine to cause.

"Mom wouldn't have let you go. If she was here, mom would ground you," Caleb warns. His hazel eyes suddenly look like a deep shade of brown.

"And guess what?" I remark. There is fire in my voice. "Mom isn't here. And you aren't her, so stop acting like my parent- and try acting more like a brother."

With that, I stand up. The chair rolls backwards behind me. I stare around his room one last time- the lit computer screen, the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. It still looks similar to how it was when I was ten. And I still haven't gotten used to being able to see it again. My hand grips the brass doorknob and I push it open. It squeaks- and for a second, I freeze. A shudder runs through me.

"Are you okay?" Caleb asks. I hear his voice get closer to me. But instead, I do everything in my power to brush it off, and slam the door behind me. If I want to go to a party, I'm going to go to a party. And I'm not going to let my brother, or warnings about my dead mother, stop me from doing so.

I can hear the music before I even reach the street. The one positive thing about the city is that we all live close together, so it was an easy walk here, but the negative is that noise echoes. I turn the corner. My eyes widen at the sight- a house, totally lit up with colorful lights. Blasting rap songs, people wandering around the front porch. It's so.. unfamiliar. My body almost tries to walk back to my house. Back to the safety of my room, and Caleb's glare, but I keep walking.

I snuck out for a purpose. To prove a point. And although Caleb might be protective, he's already ratted me out once, before. And he saw how that ended up. He won't do it again- and I would bet money on that statement. Tonight is finally my chance to prove to the world that I can be a normal teenager. That these parties are where I actually belong.

"Tris!" Christina calls my name. I notice that she's standing outside, near the front door, greeting some guests. I smile. She looks so well put together- and same with all the other people around her. But I am simply wearing black skinny jeans and a tank top, with some graphic design on it. An old pair of converse. I am not meant to be wearing sequins or tight dresses.

"I'm so glad you could come!" She suddenly hugs me, and I get a strong smell of liquor on her breath. She stumbles a bit as she walks. The night is only just starting- and Christina is already drunk.

"Thanks for inviting me," I say, practically holding up half of her weight.

"Do me a favor, Trissy?" Her voice erupts into dozens of giggles. "Trissy! That's your new name now. Trissy, take this cup." She pushes a red solo cup into my hand, "-inside, and refill it, would you?"

The question is simply one where the only answer is yes. I just nod and take the cup in my hand, trying not to be a rude friend. Christina was my only chance of meeting people and now she looks like she is ready to pass out on the floor. My free hand pulls the door to the house open, and I am totally overwhelmed with smoke. Tobacco smoke, and the sound of the music amplified by at least fifty percent. This isn't the crowd that I am used to. And it probably never will be.

Carefully, I walk into the house. My eyes are hungry. The first thing that I see is a couple, making out against the wall, and a few other students filming it. There is a grand piano in the room to my right- with someone totally asleep on the top of it. The house is so big from the outside, but on the inside, it feels like we are all cramped into a closet. People run into me as a walk, and I think that I even feel a bit of a drink spill down the sleeve of my shirt.

"Excuse me," I mumble, pushing through the crowd. A few girls stop to stare at me. Most seem to be recognizing that I am a new face, because our high school is pretty small. Chicago public schools are known to be less crowded, as most students are put into private school. I'm starting to find it hard to breathe.

Finally, the kitchen comes into sight, but I'm not there to fill up the solo cup. In fact, I've already dumped that thing on the floor. The kitchen just seems to be pretty empty. Fridge open, cups on the floor, but not too many people. Messily, I practically throw myself into the new room, breathing heavily.

Everything has taken me by so much surprise- it seems like too much. And breathing has become just a difficult challenge. My brain wanders to Caleb, hopefully at home right now. What will he think when I walk in the door with liquor on my shirt? What will my dad say if Caleb decides to tell on me? Will they send me back to the hospital for reckless behavior? Will they-

"Hey, hey... Deep breaths. Breathe with me."

There is suddenly a hand on my back. My vision wanders up, and I'm looking into another pair of eyes so strong, that for a second I fear that it's my brother. But this boy has more muscle on him. His skin is tan, and his hair is a deep brown. I want to say something- but my voice seems to have stopped working.

"I think you're having a panic attack. Just breathe. In, and out. In, and out." His voice calms me, and I do as he instructs. I imagine how ridiculous I probably look right now. Practically dying on the night of my first party. After a few seconds of deep chest-heaving, I can finally manage coherent thoughts.

"Thank you," I mutter. My voice is weak. "I'm-"

"Tris," he cuts me off, "Everyone has been talking about you. You're new."

I stifle a nod, and he gives me a reassuring grin.

"I'm Tobias. Let's get out of here, yeah? This party sucks, anyways."