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Freezing cold

By Marita Brakstad

Fantasy / Romance

Chapter 1

disclaimer: I do not own Divergent. All rights go to Veronica Roth 

Chapter 1 :Saturday night

The night is buzzing with activity as 17 year old Tris hides her small frame going behind one human being to another trying to loose the person she feels following her. She dodges a running man and squeezes past a woman in high heels who looks as if she might loose her balance at any second. The night is dark and mysterious and the moon is casting shadows at every corner, making it easy for her to sneak and hide in the dark. The cold winter wind is howling and sailing through the air, making people draw their coats and jackets closer to their bodies.

As Tris isn't bothered by anything cold really, she is wearing a thin light blue v- neck sweater with worn out, baggy, ripped jeans (light denim blue of course) and a black beanie with light blue print saying " Awesome" draped on top of her thick, naturally wavy, honey blonde hair that reaches right above her elbows. She has black high-tops on her feet and her hands is covered in black fingerless leather gloves.

She runs fast and her breathing is still steady due to the hours she spends running every morning.

Running for her is a way to keep herself from going crazy and learning to control herself. Control is something she needs. Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know. That is her saying, her way of living, and of course by "them" she means every human being that lives on this planet. She needs to control her inner powers, and the more she thinks about it, the more frustrated she gets. Constantly having to wear gloves isn't what she wants for the rest of her life, so she must learn to control her temper. That's why she runs, it's to clear her mind. Everything disappears, the worries, the fears of everybody finding out, the frustration, everything. She is alone in the world.

The streets are getting longer and the crowd of people out mingling outside a club or a cafe is getting smaller as she is getting farther away from downtown Chicago. After what feels like an hour of running between alleys and behind houses trying to loose her stalker, she finally reaches her apartment block. Only though it couldn't have taken more than 20 minutes. She sprints through the dimly lit reception and up the seven sets of black/grey stone stairs to her floor.

She unlocks the heavy door to her apartment and steps inside. Her back hitting the closed door behind her, she sinks down to the floor hugging her knees to her chest not bothering to turn on the light yet. Since the light is out, she assumes her mother is away for the night... again. Tris is used to being alone, she stays quiet at school keeping to herself and her mom is often away. She has friends, two to be exact, but they have their own gang and Tris is definitely not a people-person. The less people that know her, the easier it gets to hide. Even though they try all the time to get her to sit with them at lunch, talk in-between classes or hang out after school, she always comes up with some lame excuse.

She didn't really know why she'd expect her mom to be there tonight, she's almost never home and Tris couldn't even remember the last time they had hung out on a Saturday night.

The apartment feels lonely and cold, kind of depressing really. After what feels like hours, she stumbles and pushes herself up from the floor stretching out her arms and legs. She takes of her slightly worn out shoes and turns on the light in the open room. Their apartment consist of three rooms, a combined kitchen and living room with the form of a square, a bathroom, and two bedrooms.

The first thing you see is a wall with two doors. Tris's moms room, and then her room. They have a small bathroom each that separates the two rooms. Then you see the small kitchen with dark brown benches and white cupboards. They have a small window right over their sink, with view of the city. The livingroom is simple with a way too comfy, old, light brown couch, a white coffee table and a black TV and is placed to the left of the front door. They have two normal windows with dark brown curtains on the same wall as the kitchen. Tris goes straight to her room and jumps face-down on her queen sized bed, inhaling the sweet honey smell from her perfume on the fluffy, pink pillow.

She groans and shifts so that she is staring at the ceiling, which is covered by a painting of a frosty forest with small snowflakes falling slowly from the sky. In the patches where you can see the sky through the clouds there are bright shining stars, reminding her of everything she's not.

Beautiful, bright and not afraid to shine. The stars are actually small lightbulbs that she has put up in different sizes to make it more interesting. They are the only providing lights except from her window and the lamp on her nightstand. The grass is covered by frozen teardrops that's glinting in the moonlight and the trees are leaning a few inches to the right due to the frosty winter wind that is supposedly there. The painting that covers all of the ceiling is a creation of her own. She loves to paint, it's another stress reliever.

The uneasy feeling she got when she felt a set of eyes on her back in downtown Chicago is yet to go away. She wonders why someone would follow her, whoever it was. Being followed halfway home from a cafe is definitely not normal. Hopefully, she had shaken him off while taking all those twists and turns, it would be hard to keep up.

Since Tris doesn't have anything to do, she crabs some clothes from her white dresser and changes into grey capri sweats and a light blue baggy muscle tee with fluffy blue socks and throws the other clothes in the hamper that stands in the far left corner of her room, then she flipped herself back on the bed with a sigh. Holding her hands up in front of her she takes off her gloves and places them on the light wooden colored night stand.

Frosty sparkles immediately starts to form inside of her palm and mixing into the air around her, this is why she has baby blue walls with tiny snowflakes covering most of them, so that the frost that might appear isn't so visible. She would hate for her mother to find out about her abilities. Her mother would absolutely flip, and probably panic too.

Her room isn't much with only a white bed in the middle of the room with the foot-end facing the door, a white dresser to the right of her bed, the wooden nightstand on the other side and the white curtains that goes all the way to the floor. Her window faces out against the city, so her view is beautiful with all the blinking lights from the tall buildings every night (same as the kitchen/livingroom).

She closes her hands together an makes a very tiny blizzard while separating them slowly until they are about four inches apart. The air around her is getting colder by the second, and a frosty mist is making everything less visible than it was before. She can no longer see the details on her walls and only the outline of her door.

Tris continues to play with her powers, making snowballs or ice-crystals until a door slamming shut makes her jump. Any traces of what she had been doing was gone in a blink of an eye, a thing she had learned not long ago. She had serious trouble keeping it a secret when she didn't know how to reverse it. She blinks her eyes several times, trying to gain proper sight again. Loud footsteps walks in her livingroom before they suddenly stop. She wonder if she remembered to lock the door, she was positive that she did.

Carefully, she places her feet on the floor from where they had been propped up on the side-springs of her bed and walks slowly to her bedroom door. She opens it only slightly and peeks her head out. Honestly, she must admit that she's kind of terrified.

Her mothers blonde curls are spread out on the armrest of their couch with one of her hands draped across her forehead. Her other arm is resting on her stomach while her feet are still on the floor, blood red heels are placed nicely right beside them, as if she stepped out of them right before she collapsed. She is wearing a tight black dress that goes about mid thigh with a sweetheart neckline and her lips is the same color as her shoes. Now Tris just feels stupid, of course it was her mother.

"Mom?" Tris's soft, quiet voice travels around the room. But her mom was already fast asleep, snoring quietly while her chest rises and falls again with each steady breath.

Tris sighs disappointed and closes her door softly so her mother won't wake up. She tiptoes over to her and carefully lifts her legs so they lay on the couch, and drapes the red and fluffy blanket that laid at the other end of the couch over her mostly uncovered body. Tris places the overly high heels with the rest of her shoes at the bottom of her mothers black closet in her room. She takes the Advil from her bathroom and places it on the coffee-table along with a glass of freezing cold water. Her mother will most likely have a massive hangover tomorrow morning.

Just another Saturday night Tris thinks as she returns to her room for the night.

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