Divergent, Eric: When She Came

Chapter Thirty Four.

"Do you have factions?" Tris asked and I shook my head then stopped.

Well... Some people are brave, others are smart, helpful, honest and happy. But we never had placed those people in factions. It was too weird.

I glanced down at the photo again. I wonder, what made Natalie go to this place at a young age? Did she run away, like I did? Or, was it something she wanted to do?

Chewing a mouthful of food, I almost choked. Was that...? Is that...?

No, it couldn't be.

It shouldn't be.

But she hasn't been found...

"Cassie? What's wrong? Cassie!" Tris snapped her fingers in my face, making me jump. "What?"

I looked at the familiar photo. I lay the photo on the table and pressed my finger against one of the many faces.

"That's my mum."

"Really?" Tris leaned closer to the photo, squinting her eyes while studying the child version of my mum. "Are you sure?"

I gave her a pointed look. "I know exactly what my mum looked like. I looked through all her child photos when the whole family thought she was dead. I know what she looks like."

My heart was pounding. Did she come here before starting her family? Why was she in the same photo as Tris's mum?

Why are there too many questions and not enough answers?

***

What was my mother? Who was my mother? The mother that I knew told me that her childhood was full of surprises: parties, weddings, anything that crazy could partner up with.

Who was my mother?

I knew exactly what Tris felt: I feel like I don't even know my mother.

It was like all my memories of her, photos, the late night talks when I awoken from my nightmares, was a lie.

She was a lie.

Our so-called relationship was a lie.

"Are you okay?" Tris murmured and sat at the foot-end of my bed. I had laid down, my complete and utter anger towards her had back fired by giving me a throbbing headache.

"Absolutely and completely fine!" I sighed, pushing my arms back so I can lean on my elbows. "Looks like I can totally say: I know how you feel."

Tris grinned. "Yes, yes you do." She looked around our empty dorm. Eric and Four were off somewhere: bonding, and Peter had crashed on his bed and I have no clue where Tori, Uriah or Christina ran off to.

No.

I did not just use bonding, Four and Eric in the same sentence, did I?

Oh, yeah. I did.

Tris looked down to what was in her lap: a thin square piece of glass. An IPad? "There's an entry, about your mum." She handed me the glass. "I'd thought you'd might want to read it."

I thanked her and sat cross legged, my back pressed into the corner of the room. I tapped my finger against the glass and the screen came to life.

Today I met another girl. She's just like me. She ran away from her home in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She says that her family problems have become extreme: she says her parents are dreadful. Neither of them don't love each other, nor love her. Her name is Elizabeth Cassidy.

So, does this means she named me after her surname? Was I a constant reminder of who she was, her childhood self?

She seems nice. Everyone here is rough on a new girl. Girls, should I say. David is being getting angry that neither Elizabeth or me have been writing entries enough.

I'm sorry, David. But I'm sure that someone might notice I'm contacting through a disant server. I'm not risking that chance.

The Divergent are dying. If it wasn't the Divergent, we wouldn't intervene. I'm only to stay a few years. I only have a few friends and no family, Elizabeth is only staying for a little while. Maybe two years, perhaps?

If she doesn't, and leaves the Experiment City, she says she'll keep contact. And she might come back, depending how bad the situation is.

Elizabeth says she wants me to have her entries. She told me where she kept them: she says she always keeps her precious stuff in one of the rooms of the big boat beyond the fence.

She says she barely writes anything. But she keeps a little note book on her and records her data; after a month she sneaks out the city and sends her data to the Alliance.

I must leave now, I'm trying to get close to the killer. But not so close she'd think twice who she trusts.

After all, their daughter, Jeanine Matthews, would fight her parents if they'd think it was me.

They have no idea who they're messing with.