A/N: I don't know what this is. I just finished Allegiant (if you don't like SPOILERS then get the hell out now!) and am consequently suffering from post-book depression. So this came to be. Or something. Yeah...I'm tired, and currently feel like there's a black hole in my stomach (dammit, Veronica, I WANT MY LIFE BACK), so this will probably suck :P

IMPORTANT: Yes, I do realize that Tobias and Evelyn "made up" and that Marcus and Evelyn are no longer "warring" each other, but for some reason this fic makes it sound like they didn't. But yeah. He's thinking about how it was before when he says that part, and I guess he's still dreaming about when he hated them...or something. I have no idea xP

I do not own Divergent. One word: Duh.

I see your face when I look into the mirror every morning. It's always there, hovering behind my shoulder, with two thin-but-muscular arms attached to it wrapping around my waist. Then I turn around and it's gone, you're gone, everything's gone.

The mirror is broken now, jagged shards of glass covering the floor of my bathroom. But the ghost of your touch keeps haunting me like nothing else.

You're so stupid, so selfish, so goddamn fucking infuriating I just want to drag you back here and yell and scream and dent the walls with my fists and kiss the living daylights out of you. Then maybe you'll look me in the eyes again—then maybe you'll show me those overly large, blue-gray eyes again—and tell me you love me and that you'll never leave me and it was all just a bad dream, a bad dream, bad dream, nightmare that never ends but it's over over over fucking over now because you are finally back.

But then you're not. And it kills me.

There's a vial of memory serum hiding under my bed like that monster everyone feared when they were five—myself excluded because you know my monster actually came out and he certainly wasn't hiding under my bed. That mask of careful, Abnegation selflessness and wisdom everyone knew as Marcus Eaton was what he crawled beneath to disguise the fact that his favorite pastimes included "disciplining" me and my mother until one of us had to fake their own death to be free.

Obviously, that someone wasn't me.

There's something to be said about your parents waging war against each other, especially when both of them have turned into something less human and more machine.

Especially when you dream of seeing the skin melting off their screaming faces as they burn.

But then you realize that it's a dream and that they're dying and wasn't this all just a big nightmare but if it's a dream then you, Tris, are dead and oh God oh God oh God—

Anyway. The serum. I want to take it. I want it so, so bad. Every moment of every second of every minute of every hour I feel my muscles screaming at me to just reach my arm out and—grab it. Unscrew the lid, drink it. Goodbye life, goodbye past, goodbye future, goodbye me.

Goodbye Tris.

And that's where I pause, my hand stuck somewhere between grabbing and punching myself in the face for being such an idiot for didn't Christina tell me, didn't she beat some fucking sense into me that day back in Abnegation when I stood by myself perfectly ready to pour a few drops of liquid down my throat and forget everything and everyone. It's not a question, it's not, it's not it's fucking not. Is anything ever a question, anymore. Is there anything left to wonder about. No no no no no no no no—

Some day, I will die. I will. I will and I want and I wait in numbtwistedagony for that moment to arrive.