The Iron Soldier: A FourTris Divergent Story

Chapter 6

"Hey. You awake?"

I open my eyes slowly. "Yeah." I look around but nothing is familiar to me. " Where are we?"

"My place."

"Your place? I thought you were taking me home?" I'm completely awake now.

He looks at me concerned. "You told me you didn't want to go home. You said something about not wanting your roommate to see you like this because she would over-react. Don't you remember?"

I shake my head, "Wow, I don't remember saying that at all."

He smiles at me. "Yeah, that's because I made the whole thing up as an excuse to get you to my place." My eyes widen. "Relax, I'm just kidding. You can get cleaned up inside, then I'll take you back to your dorm. No freaked out roommate this way, okay."

My gaze drops down to my hands, then up my arms. I look like the last survivor from a horror film, although, he doesn't look much better. Still, I'm not too sure how keen I am going into his home.

"Don't worry. I don't bite. Plus I have an extensive first aid kit."

I'm almost positive I'm going to pass out. My head feels heavy, yet I have a strange sensation like I'm floating. He opens the passenger side door and I nearly fall out. He catches me before I do any damage.

"Have you eaten anything today?"

I think about it for a second. "No, I went out for a run. I was going to eat when I got back. It never crossed my mind that my fourty minute run would turn into a nightmare."

"Yeah," he smirked. " I know what you mean." He guides me toward the front door by putting his right hand between my shoulder blades. I try to ignore the sensation that radiates through my skin where his hand comes in contact with my back.

Once inside, he guides me to one of the kitchen chairs. "Have a seat."

I sit and watch him tinker around the kitchen. First he washes his hands, all the way up to his elbows. Then he's in the fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice. He pours two glasses and hands one to me.

"Thanks."

"I don't have much for food in the house, but I could whip us up some eggs and toast if you like."

"Sounds good." I smile.

He smiles back and I want to melt. "The bathroom is right around the corner. There's clean towels under the sink. You can clean up a bit while I make us some breakfast."

I somehow manage to pull myself out of my chair and make my way to the bathroom. With the door closed, I stand motionless in front of the mirror. An unrecognizeable face stares back at me. I turn on the water, splashing it over my face several times before I push my arms through the cold spray, rinsing away the long squiggles of blood that litter both arms. I exhale a shakey breath before grabbing the soap and dragging it up my arm. I stop and drop the bar in the sink when a sharp pain shoots up my arm. "Owe!" Blood squirts from my arm where the pain originated from.

"You okay?" Four asks from the kitchen.

"Yeah," I call back. "But I think I have some glass in my arm."

I open the bathroom door, and he's standing right there. A dish towel casually tossed over his shoulder. "Let me see." He gently turns my arm over and examines the long line of cuts that resulted from my short army crawl through the broken glass. "Yup. You sure do. I can get it out with some tweezers."

I pull my arm out of his grip. "I'm not sure I want you to do that."

He chuckles lightly. "What happened to the brave girl from the convenience store?"

"She's having second thoughts about a bartender performing surgery on her arm."

"Oh, don't be a baby." He pushes me back into the kitchen chair I was sitting in earlier and disappears into the bathroom. When he returns, he's holding a small white hinged box with a red cross marked on the lid. A loud scuffing sound fills the air, as he drags another chair over so he can sit across from me, our knees touching. He pulls my arm forward, resting it on the arm of the chair. Blood has started to drip freely again as he holds my upper arm tightly in one hand and inserts the tweezers through the gash with the other.

I wince at the strange sensation that is a mixture of pain and relief as he pulls the shard free of the skin. "That hurt?"

"Not really." Blood drips down my arm, making tiny circles on the floor, while he daps the wound with a gauze pad.

He looks up, and our eyes lock on to each other. I've never been this close to him before. It makes me nervous and at ease at the same time, if that's even possible.

"You're pretty tough, for a girl."

"And you're kinda nice, for an ass." Oh my God. Did I really just say that?

A smile spread across his face. "What? I've been nothing but nice to you."

"Me yeah, but I heard you're not usually that nice."

Half his smile disappears. "Where did you hear that?"

"My roommate, Christina. I told her about the crappy day I had, and that you helped me out. She said you're usually very blunt about not wanting to be friends with anyone."

"Mmhm, that sounds like me." He returns his attention to my arm

"So, how come you weren't an ass to me?"

"To be honest, I tried to be. When I brought the water over for the flowers. But as your visit progresses, you were so pitiful, sitting there all alone, it wasn't funny after that."

I frown. "Why do you act like that. You obviously aren't a complete ass."

He pushes a large bandage into place. I jerk my hand away as the pain returns.

"No, I am. You just don't know me well enough yet." His eyes meet mine again.

My lips curl into a smile and I snicker.

"What's so funny?"

"Your eggs are on fire."

Four jumps out of the chair and runs to the stove, pulling the frying pan off the burner and tossing it into the sink. A loud sizzle follows as water droplets evaporate against the hot metal pan. I resist the urge to laugh again as he rubs the back of his neck with his right hand. "So, how do you feel about cereal?"