DEADLY
Summary: A one shot that comes from my 'Drag me under' universe. It is set between chapter 24 and 25 (the first few days after chapter 24 actually), where Tobias is left to deal with the repercussions after taking a life. A twist on Insurgent, where Tris think she's the one that's deadly.
A/N: This is what I left out during DMU, as I felt it wasn't necessary to the plot line. However, I had it written and decided why not post it as a separate piece. You can read this separately or as an extra add-on if you've read, or want to begin, Drag Me Under (if the latter, I suggest you read this once you finish chapter 24). Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this.
Dedicated to: All my loyal readers of Drag me under (and of course, anyone else who likes this!)
"Tobias..."
Someone was calling his name, but he didn't want to hear. He was too far lost in his mind—an empty shell of a mind—to care what happened on the outside. Tobias was frozen, stuck in time almost, unable to feel anything physically. His insides were another case. It felt like everything was intensified, electrified. His insides were going hay-wire and his emotions heightened greatly.
His fingers itched. The memory of that night was still there, lingering at the back of his mind. His skin remembered its smooth surface; how cold it was and how foreign it felt. Yet, somehow it felt oddly right... like it was made to fit his hands.
The whole scene played on repeat in his mind, and he had to relive it each night. He remembered how easy it was to pull back the trigger and release. He remembered how easy it was to kill the man who was the bane of his existence. He remembered how easy and good it felt to watch Eric drop dead—his pale, lifeless body hitting the ground with a bone-crunching thud.
What wasn't easy was what came next...
The sore began to burn a hole where his heart had used to be. Used to be because he couldn't possibly have one after killing a person—regardless of how guilty and horrible a person he was. Tobias knew he would have to live with this, forever carrying around a burden that was large enough to squash an elephant. He would have to get by each day, knowing that he was the one that condemned a man to death. That ache would be hard forever marred on his skin, as a reminder of the atrocious crime he had committed. Though there was no physical scar, no bullet wound—although that would've been a lot easier in many ways—he could feel the mental wound seeping blood. It would never fully heal, never fully close, because he would never fully forget.
"Tobias..." Her voice called out to him again. A sing-song tune echoing through his head. He knew who it belonged to, but he refused to acknowledge it.
He knew she wouldn't understand... No one could understand the grief... The heartache... The trauma he was experiencing. No one... not even her.
"You can't keep ignoring me." Her voice was more bitter than sweet now, and with a nod of defeat, he turned to face her.
Her face wasn't like he had remembered... Had it been so long that she had changed so considerably? Though many of her features had remained the same, her cheeks had noticeably filled out more—a sure sign she was gaining back her strength. Her lips were more plump, but they were broken, like she had been chewing nervously on them. Her eyes were by far the worst... Tobias hadn't seen eyes as grey and dull as hers that day in the underground cellar, but now, they held almost no life at all. Was this what he had done to her? She was staring down at him, the same concern plastered on her face every night she came out to check on him.
"You were having bad dreams again, weren't you?" She asked, reaching out to stroke his cheek.
He flinched away immediately, refusing to let her touch him. He didn't want her to catch this infectious illness... This virus that made him cold and deadly.
He nodded in answer to her question because he didn't want to tell her the truth. He didn't have a nightmare. Tonight was different. He had been forcing himself to remember every painful detail because that way he could hurt... That way, he could convince himself that he wasn't a monster.
He had nightmares often though, and that was the only reason why she came to sit with him almost each night. He knew the walls were thin, but he had secretly hoped they were thick enough to mask his cries and sobs during the night, obviously they weren't. As much as he had tried to shield her away from his troubles, she found a way to mix and jumble herself in his own personal problems. It was his problem to fix, not hers... No matter how hard he tried to keep his distance, to give her some space to find herself, She would use that time and energy on him. Why she chose to waste it on him he had no idea...
"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked again, her voice a little more hopeful this time, but her eyes remained guarded. He couldn't blame her for being cautious. Each other night had started like this, and each night, she had learned to put up walls to hide her disappointment.
"No..." His voice shook. How many days had passed since he last spoke? He licked his lips, trying to remember how to speak again. "I don't feel like talking... I just want to be left alone."
In all honesty, he didn't know why he kept doing that. His words betrayed what he felt on the inside. He was dying for her to stay and comfort him... He so desperately wanted to open up to her, but he couldn't. He couldn't taint her. He didn't want to destroy her innocence by corrupting her soul. He was deadly... but she didn't have to be.
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