The next day, I return to the hospital. I'm not positive what pulled me to him, but I can't help it. Four might've been an ass, but I have to see him, no matter what anyone else says.
When I walk in, it's much more quiet than you would expect for an L.A. hospital. I find myself almost confused by the almost silence of the lobby. It seems wrong.
I think a moment before proceeding. Do I really want to do this? I haven't known him very long, and he didn't treat me the best, but I know it's what I'm supposed to do. I finally make the executive decision to continue. I walk to the front,"Four Eaton?"
The nurse is older, and you can tell how the stress has affected her. Her forehead and cheeks have clear wrinkles, despite her other features making her seem middle aged. She glances at me, and I notice the familiar bit of excitement from her recognizing who I am.
The woman types it into an old, big computer,"Ok! Room 4610, floor 3." She says. Honestly, the woman is too cheery and excited to be in a hospital. Though that could be because of me, unfortunately.
I head to the untrustworthy looking elevator, when I spot someone with a camera. Not now, please not now. I immediately pull my floppy hat over my face, to cover it, and put on my huge sunglasses.
The man starts jogging to the elevator, but I click the close door button as fast as I can manage. I find myself wishing the doors could move quicker. They close faster than usual, which I couldn't be more relieved about. I hear him sigh outside the door, before it starts moving.
I let out a sigh of relief, and lean against the door of the elevator. I can't escape the paparazzi, even if I need time alone. The elevator is slow and creaky, but at least I have a moment with my own thoughts.
I reach the his floor, and step out. There is a huge sign telling where the rooms are. I follow the one marked,"4600-4700"
I follow directions, and walk through the maze of hallways to his room. I almost knock on the door, but hesitate. What if he's angry with me? What if he didn't want to be saved? I try to push my dramatic thoughts away, and knock on the door.
"C-come in!" A weak voice yells. I slowly push open the door, and glance at his bed. I'm expecting worse than what I see. He has a blood IV connected him, but he has many bandages, and a foot in a cast.
"W-who are you?" he says, his voice cracking. "Oh, sorry." I say, taking off my hat and glasses. His eyes widen,"T-Tris? You're here?" he says.
I close the door behind me quietly, "Of course, why wouldn't I?" He looks down, seeming guilty,"I blew up at you, I thought you would not want to come see me. I thought you hated me for it.
My eyes start watering a bit, "Four, I knew you had just been through something horrid, I knew I couldn't understand. But to be honest, I didn't know if I'd come or not." I admit, looking down.
He motions me closer, "I understand. I'm not the best with...um...feelings?"
I laugh,"That sounded so cheesy." He chuckles,"I guess it did, but it's true. My father hasn't always been the most loving."
I avoid his eyes,"I guess I wouldn't know much about that. Would you mind telling me the story...the whole story?"
He slightly sits up, as if getting ready,"I think I'm ready. I've never gotten to talk about any of this stuff."
"Did you ever notice how cliche we are? It's like we are in a story." I laugh, looking kindly into his eyes. He smiles,"Of course, it's our thing. Now, it's a long story, do you want me to pause, or can I just say it all."
I think a moment,"All of it. I can't ever know the real you if don't know your story." I insist. He blushes,"Ok, it all began when I was born. He was so excited, couldn't wait. He loved my mother more than anything else, and was doing so well in politics, he couldn't imagine anything getting worse.
That's when it happened, when I was born, she died. Marcus was so in love, he blamed it all on me. As long as I remember, he was drinking. I was raised by babysitters. They taught me how to talk, crawl, walk, and he never bothered to pay them, so every week I had a different babysitter.
When I turned Four, it's when he started..." Four looks down, and I spot a tear fall from his eye. I put a hand on his arm,"It's ok."
He shakes his head, and brings himself back to his senses. "He-he started beating me with a belt. I was left to clean, barely got any in food in a day, he got a private tutor so the state wouldn't question it. I was a servant, not a child. That's when he lost the title 'father'
When I was 18, I was determined to get out. As soon has it hit midnight, I got what little I had, and tried to head out the front door. I was so proud, so determined, I was going to get out. But he caught me. He wouldn't let me go. He followed me everywhere. Marcus is my worst nightmare."
Without me noticing, my mouth has dropped open.
"When I went to see you, that was the last straw. He locked me in a basement, and wouldn't feed me. Until yesterday, I was stuck there. He opened the door, and he told me we were going. He tied up my arms, and I tried to fight back, but he knocked me out.
After that all I remember is your face. You found me, now I'm here. Tris, you saved my life. I would've died. I don't know how I'll repay that."