Divergent: Fate Happens

Chapter 2:

He finally gets to my bed and crawls on top of it, pulling his legs under his thighs. I look down at my hands as they begin to clasp together in front of me.

"Beatrice, what were you thinking?" He asks in shock, his hand lightly touching a medium size piece of glass in my shoulder. "I need to take you to the hospital."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, I stare up at him with wide eyes, "Y-you can't."

"You're bleeding all over, and you need to get the cuts cleaned properly." He states, his eyes filled to the brim with concern and authority.

"Please Caleb. If you love me you wont." I say, my eyes pleading with his.

"Beatrice..." he starts but trails off as he thinks about it. "I will only agree if we can both go down stairs while you let me clean your wounds."

I sigh in relief and nod my head in acceptance, while he huffs. He takes my hand and carefully leads me out of my room, heading me towards the kitchen. When we make it there, I can feel the fragments in my feet stinging me, forcing deeper into my skin with each step. Caleb instructs me to take a seat on the counter while he gets all the supplies--or first aid kit--we store under the sink.

He places them all on the counter next to me, then goes back and get a dish towel along with a bowl of water, and an empty bowl. He takes a chair from the dining room and places the back in front of me, guiding one of my legs to rest atop it. He pulls the tweezers out from the first aid kit, and begins plucking the glass out, one by one, placing them into the empty bowl.

As soon as he has finished one foot, washed it with the water and dish towel, then wrapped it up, he moves on to the next, silence surrounding us the whole time. It takes him a good ten minutes to finish with pulling out and wrapping all the cuts in my feet. He moves the chair back and cleans up a bit, telling me to stay seated on the counter.

He gets a paper towel drenching it in lukewarm water, and makes his way back over to me.

"I need to get that piece in your head...and it's going to hurt." He states, guilt and concern mixing in his eyes.

"Go ahead." I say, my hands clutching the corner of the counter like it will keep me together.

Caleb splits the wet paper towel in half, giving me a piece and telling me to put it to my head once he's pulled out the glass. He places his piece of paper towel onto the end of the glass while he pulls it out careful not the move it around too much. I wince in pain, scrunching up my nose while tightly shutting my eyes. I do as he said and put the wet paper towel on my head, the paper towel soaking up blood immediately. Caleb grabs a big bandage from the kit and unwraps it, sticking it to my gash as soon as I pull the towel away.

"I need you to take off your jacket." he says gesturing towards it.

My eyes get wide at the realization of what is happening, "No." I state, fast enough to be suspicious.

"Beatrice, take your jacket off so I can clean the wounds in your arms."

"No." I say slower this time, my heart kicking up speed. "I can do the rest myself."

"Take your jacket off, Beatrice, before I force you to the hospital." He replies, authority clear in his tone.

I look down as I gently slide my--now cloved in holes and marks--jacket off, revealing a back tank top that I wear as an undershirt. I take a deep breath as I hear Caleb takes a sharp intake of air.

"Beatrice, what are those?" he practically yells at me, while he points to the scars that are visible on the outside of my forearm, from when my old 'friends' beat me up. I had never told anyone about that incident, and I never plan to, as their expressions would be the same thing, pity.

"Nothing." I reply quietly, refusing to look into his raging eyes.

"That is not nothing! Is someone hurting you?" He asks, clearly upset by the sight.

I don't respond, and make the mistake of looking up into his eyes. The usually cheery green eyes are dark and devastated, a pained expression crossing his face, causing guilt to bubble up in my stomach.

"Why, Beatrice?" he squeaks, his voice losing its strong, authoritative perspective. "I told you you could talk to me about anything."

I ignore the guilt, and huff out at him, "It's not what you think Caleb. No one hurt me, I cut it on branches from a bush I fell into a couple months back."

The lie feels thick on my tongue, and by the expression on his face he doesn't believe me, but all he does is sigh and give me one more sad look before continuing on taking the glass out of my arms, no further question asked.