Three Words

Chapter 12 - Four

After I check that Tris will be in the bathroom for a little longer, I go into the kitchen. During my workout this morning, I pushed myself harder than I probably should have, causing my shoulders to be sore. I didn't want Tris to know while we were out, so I didn't say anything, hoping the beers would help. I was trying to give myself something constructive to do while she was at work so I didn't dwell too much on what I'm feeling.

I grab the container of cream I use for my sore muscles out of the cabinet. I turn again to check to see if the bathroom door is still closed. I haven't heard the water run yet, so I don't think she's done brushing her teeth. I don't want Tris to see my back, not yet anyway. She doesn't need to know about the scars that mark my back. She doesn't need to know that my childhood was filled with demons and pain.

I take my shirt off quickly, laying it down on the counter and begin to slather the cream on my shoulders, feeling the cool relief seep into my skin. I check again to see if the door is closed, and go to wash my hands quickly. If I can let the cream dry some, it won't stick to the shirt I'm going to wear tonight.

I know Tris probably wants to know why I acted like I did when she asked about my apartment, but she really doesn't need to know those circumstances. I want to keep her in the dark as long as I can. I did have fun with her today though. The way Tris and I acted like kids, it stirs a longing in me. Making me wish I could change some of the horrors of my past.

As I turn off the water, I hear harsh, ragged breathing coming from behind me. 'Oh no.' I turn around quickly to find Tris standing there in my shirt, her hands are clinched by her sides, but I don't understand her face. She looks almost...angry. Is she angry at me? I can feel my stomach clinch. I feel several emotions start to race through my system before I can arrange my face into a hard mask. Anger for the monster that has made me an outcast for what he did to me. Fear for how she looks right now, but also for what is to come. She will want to know what happened, and I will at least have to retell some parts of the horrors of my childhood. Finally, I feel sadness. I try not to listen to the words that my father would always say once he got done beating me, "No one will believe you." If she does believe me, she will more than likely pity me. I don't want anyone's pity, especially hers.

She begins to take slow steps toward me, almost cautiously, the anger ebbing away to her softer feature, and her hands begin to unclench. She is approaching me with caution, like I'm a bomb about to go off. I can't look at her anymore though, I don't want to see the look on her face when she knows the truth. I don't want to see her leave.

I need to control my emotions. This is only going to end badly. "Four, who did that to you?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, but I can hear a quiver at the end, but it doesn't sound like sadness.

I continue to look at my feet, arranging my face to the mask I'm so used to wearing, and laugh, but it isn't with humor. It seems like such a natural question, but it has so much weight to it. "Are you sure you want to know how I got my scars Tris? It isn't a happy tale."

I can see out of the corner of my eye, that she is still slowly approaching me, but when I give her the choice to listen she hesitates. I should have known she wasn't different. She is going to leave. At least I didn't get very far with this relationship.

"Yes." Her voice is still barley above a whisper.

My eyes leave the floor to look at her, but I don't understand her posture when I finally take in her figure. She looks tense, but there is something etched in her features that shows concern. The look of concern is what gives me the courage to start. "I didn't have a happy childhood Tris. I thought tonight we could make some happy memories. Like children are supposed to have."