Touch (An Eric-Divergent Fan-fiction)

Chapter 1

Two more hours. Two more hours in this freezing rain. I'm not sure if this is a blessing or a curse. Would I rather spend two hours freezing my ass off or getting my ass whipped off?

No question, I'd rather be freezing then be in that hellhole I call my house.

Its funny that I can complain about something, but still choose to do it. I guess that's my world, always choosing something I don't like, rather then what I hate.

You're probably confused as hell by now, so I'll explain.

My name is Alexandra Pulsky. I live in Abnegation with my father Aden Pulsky. I live in a world meant for service and sacrifice. I live in a reality were my father hates me and abuses me. In a reality were my father blames me for his wife's death and reminds me everyday.

The two hours are the time remaining I must stay out of the house. Evernight for three hours, between ten p.m. and one p.m., my father, no matter of wind, rain, sleet, or snow, requires me to stay out of the house. This started when I was about ten years old, two years after my mother death.

She died when I was eight years old. She committed suicide, the ultimate disgrace in Abnegation. Selfish they say.

My father said she couldn't deal with me anymore, but I know different. My mother loved me more then anything. She always told me. I know the reason she killed herself, and so does he. She committed suicide because of the things he did to her in secret. I could hear the secret deeds committed late in the night. Her muffled screams, her crying whines. In the morning she did her best to wipe it away from her face. She tried to cover her tired swollen eyes, but I always knew. I saw past the smile and light conversation she would give me. I saw the pain and the suffering. The hate for the man I called my father.

Before she died, I had never known what he did to her. Never knew what the muffled screams signified. But now, after her death, I know exactly what it meant. It might even be worse.

I truly believe, that when she committed suicide, she didn't think he'd ever touch me. He never had before. He never gave any indication. But when she died, I was the only one he had left to hurt. It started verbally: harsh words, vulgar language, and put-downs. But after the verbal abuse came the physical abuse. Then the sexual abuse. That now, I treasure these three hours of freedom, these three hours that let him do whatever with whatever or whoever.

When I was ten I would roam around. I'd explore. By twelve I knew a basic map of all of Abnegation, Erudite and Candor. I knew where Dauntless was, but had never been inside, same with the Amity compound. Somewhere within those first two years, I began running rather than walking around the cities.

Sometime after I turned twelve I also discovered a training facility called a "Gym" in Erudite. It was always empty, but it was only a twenty-minute train ride from Abnegation. The Gym was amazing. It had this special computer that help me understand the purpose of each piece of equipment and different exercises to do with each one as well other exercises without equipment. The gym as they call it was there as an opportunity for erudite to learn about the old days exercises and fighting skills. I bet some still use it like I, but other than Dauntless no one exercises.

I found the gym fascinating. At twelve years old, every night, I would exercise. My running had given me a good cardiovascular system, but I also wanted to become stronger, because I hated feeing weak in the shadow of my father.

Over time I got much stronger and I explored a wide range of exercises. My favorite machine taught me how to fight. It would show me moves and would let me practice. Then it would allow me to try the move against the machine. There were different levels of difficulty. I started with beginner, but in the last three and a half years I have worked my self up to master, a fact that I am very proud of.

I never told my father, but I know he sees that I'm stronger, but he's never reprimands me for it, because he thinks I'm too scared of him to do anything back at him. And he's right. I am deathly scared of my father.

If I'm honest with myself, I'm scared of everyone.