Tris' POV
From the corner of my eye, I see David slumped over in his chair.
And my mother walking out from behind him.
She is dressed in the same clothes she wore the last time I saw her. Abnegation gray, stained with her blood, with bare arms to show her tattoo. There are still bullet holes in her shirt; through them I can see her wounded skin, red but no longer bleeding, like she's frozen in time. Her dull blond hair is tied back in a knot. but a few loose strands frame her face in gold.
I know she can't be alive, but I don't know if I'm seeing her now because I'm delirious from the blood loss or if the death serum has addled my thought or if she is here in some other way.
She kneels next to me and touches a cool hand to my cheek.
"Hello, Beatrice," she says, and she smiles.
"Am I done yet?" I say, and I'm not sure if I actually say it or if I just think it and she hears it.
"My dear child, you've done so well."
At that instant, I know exactly what she'll say. I'm done. I choke on a sob as the image of Tobias comes into my mind, of how dark and how still his eyes were, how strong and warm his hand was, when we first stood face-to-face.
"But you're not done yet. Tobias, Caleb, your friends. You have so much to live for."
I close my eyes. My mother's hand draws me into her arm and I gladly go into her embrace. I feel a thread tugging me again, but this time I know that it isn't some sinister force dragging me toward death. It's dragging me the opposite way, back to life.