Rediscovered Love

Chapter 2

*Some music for the mood :)

~5 Years Later~

Karen's POV

They took me in. Evelyn allowed me to join a small group of four others in a window-side apartment. I sleep far from the glass, yet so much light filters through the dirt-stained panes that it still manages to wake me up in the early morning. Most people wake up before the sun's rays can cross the horizon. Still, I can only be stirred by the heat of later-morning.

I roll off of my half of a dirt-filled mattress with damaged springs. The coils have already punctured me countless times; ten scars line my back from those incidents. I leave my blanket sewn out of scraps of clothing behind and proceed to the rusted piece of metal mounted on the wall. Most factionless, can't find old mirrors so in our apartment, we use a square of old metal.

My hair is long and greasy; it runs down to my waist where it stops in thin, damaged strands from a lack of proper nutrition. Aside from my cheekbones being more pronounced, my face is painted in soot and grime. Without anything to cleanse my pores properly, red lumps dot my skin like mountains. I'm positive Jeanine would never recognize me if she saw how I looked today. My heart aches with a disappointment I drown in everyday. I grasp my even dirtier dirty-blonde hair and wrap it together with a strand of old string, before heading out of the room through a deteriorating doorway.

"Hey Jordan!" Jake waves to me as I make my way to breakfast. He isn't as old as he looks; only twenty-four years old. Same as me. He was cut from Amity for being too aggressive after three warnings caused by fights. Jake stayed in his birth-faction, but had an aptitude for Dauntless, so figures. Many of the factionless initiated to Dauntless and didn't make the cut. It does happen to be the faction with the most cuts. In second is Erudite, where many don't make it from failing the final IQ exam. The majority of factionless are divergent, like me. So many also voluntarily leave their chosen faction out of fear of being found.

I take a seat on the stone floor next to my roommate and factionless friend. The cold slithers up and around my unshaven legs. It wraps itself around my arms causing goosebumps to form. Today's breakfast is the same as yesterday's dinner- canned peas, cold. We almost always have cold vegetables for meals. While we eat in our chilly corner, Jake chats with an older man I've seen before. I don't know his name though.

He holds an old copy of Faction Weekly. It's the edition that discusses my imprisonment five years ago. Jake peers over at the headline: "Karen Matthews Imprisoned By Supposed Lover?" A tattered image of me covers the front page. It's a random picture; one of me when I was healthy in every way. I was happy then. My teeth were straight and pearly. My hair was perfectly even. My clothes were thoroughly fitted, with not a crease of imperfection. "Do you think she's still alive?"

"I hope not. Still, under Jeanine I doubt it."

I can't believe Jake would say something like that. He wants me dead. The only friend I have left wouldn't hesitate to have me die. Jake turns to me. For a moment, his pupils widen. I blink. They're normal. His eyes dart back to the picture, then to me. My heart stops. I wouldn't be surprised if he saw who I really was. Jake's eyes narrow to slits.

"Say, did you have a sister Jordan?" I know this type of question and what happens if I answer "no"

"Yeah, I did actually. She was two years older than me and transferred to Erudite." I smile to myself when I catch him glance at the newspaper, for my quick lie. Then I remember, it's exactly what got me here. My horrible habit separated me from who I loved most. My lips feel numb and everything blurs. Warm tears race down my cheeks. I wonder if Jeanine thinks about me as much as I do her?

"What's wrong?"

"I miss her," I say, secretly referring to Jeanine. Jake doesn't respond. Probably because he holds no remorse for the person in that picture; the same person situated next to him, enjoying a meal. When there aren't any words in the air, the sounds of a quite morning and the clatter of our old, bent, spoons do.