TRIS-

I found myself sat on a faded leather couch, my fingernails digging into  a small patch of the foam that was peeking through a burst seam. Someone had probably spent hours working on ripping through those stitches, just to get to the old foam beneath them, just to distract them self from this place. And for that, I was grateful.

I ripped off a tiny piece and rolled it between my fingers, somehow fascinated by such a mundane thing.

The second hand dragged itself lazily arround the face of the old grandfather clock that stood in the corner. So many times it had re[eaten the same motion, and yet, it was still going. Round and round until... One day. It'd probably fall off. And just lie there improspned between the clock face and the glass window.

Beside it was a lamp. At some point I think it was supposed to have a silver stand, but it had tarnished a light copper, almost pink, colour. The lampshade was a putrid green colour, with a few embroidered flowers dotted here ad there. The actual reenter fabric was probably only a few shades off being a perfect match with the wallpaper. And just like everything else in this room, the wallpaper was old and haggard also.

The section by the window was hanging off, probably due to damp, and there was a few places arround the room that looked like merely brushing your fingertips along it would make it disintegrate.

There was a wooden coffee able in font of me, with a plate of biscuits, two cups of tea, and masses of paperwork.

How many notes did they really need? Nothing was really that complicated that you needed to write a whole new dictionary.

I scrapped up more foam beneath my nails, reveling in the oh so quiet rip that provided some noise to the quiet room. For the past few minutes, all I'd heard was the ticking of the clock, and all that did was remind me how slowly time was indeed passing. And how quickly Caleb was wasting money.

In an armchair across from me sat Melanie Holt. A woman with eyes too big for her face and cardigans that looked like she'd stole them from a retirement home. Although this room she called an office also looked like it'd been plucked out of a retirement home, so maybe she just found it buried under one of the couch cushions and decided to keep it, thinking that having a grandma-esque appearance would make her patients feel more comfortable and willing to actually be councilled.

Because you can't get mad at an old lady, can you? Even if that old lady is probably only in her mid forties.

"Tris," she said, "Ignoring me is a big waste of both of our time."

I looked up, dropping the foam into my lap. "Well I don't know what you suggest we do, because all you've done so far is ask me questions I've already said I don't want to answer."

"Okay then," she said, as if I didn't just snap at her. "I won't ask you questions, but you need to tell me why you're here-"

"Well that's easy, I'm here because my brother said so."

She smiled, in that way that's so overly polite you'd rather they flicked you off. "What I meant was that reason, why do you think your brother wanted you to come here?"

Sighing, I pulled my feet up onto the couch. "I'm here because I went off the rails. I didn't fit into the assigned slot. I'm a square peg in a round hole. And my brother wanted that fixed."

All she did was nod.

"I tried to prove a point and ended up dropping out of highschool. You happy?"

She picked up a biscuit and with a little tilt of her head, I knew she wasnt happy with my subpar answer.

"I got my teacher arrested, I drank, I slept around, I did drugs, I got pregnant, I put my unborn child up for adoption and then I almost killed it because I was so fucking numb that I didn't give two shits about anything and ended up in the hospital having an emergency cesarean, an open adoption was organised but I haven't opened any emails they've sent me because I just don't care. Is that what you wanted to hear Melanie! "

Melanie Holt sat with a crumbling biscuit in hr hand and a blank face.

"Thank you, Tris. I know how had that must have been for you-"

"Hard? I just listed off every fuck up I've done over the past year and all you can say is 'I know how hard it must have been' bullshit. When's the last time you were the disgrace of the town? I walked right on into that mess thinking it'd be as. Thinking that I could handle it. Well I don't call shouting down handling it.

"You know what though, Melanie? I was handling it. Fabulous, at that. Until I got cocky. Until I started to genuinely believe it was easy. And then it blew up in my face.

"I'd built a gun and was so confident in the fact that it wouldn't fire that I held it up to my head without the safety on. And guess what. It fired."

A/N

Oomph there's another chapter. (Hopefully two in one weekend will make up for the fact that I went MIA on this book for a while.)

I dyed my hair purple last night, and now my hands look permanently cold. It was blue before, am that one didn't stain my skin so bad, so I was kinda surprised.

But anyway, no one what to hear about hair (no one wants to hear about anything to be honest) but ah well I'ma talk about something.

I've started work on another story. It's one I started a couple years ago but couldn't continue with, but it's having a revamp, and a name change, it's now called 'We Could Be Lovely' and the first chapter is posted if you wanna check it out please 😌.

I'm also writing another story about the British Mafia which is hella fun and stuffed with badassery.

I've also been looking back at my old fanfiction I wrote on here, it's dreadful, and I'm not really sure why so many people read it. But hey ho. C'est la vie.

As always, I do not own Divergent.