"Would you choose longevity over purpose?
Immortality over meaning?"
The next morning I feel horrible. The aches and pains have finally got to me.
Not to mention I didn't let my hair out before bed so, I have a tender sore spot in the back of my head where I slept on my ponytail.
I look at my face in the mirrors by the sinks and showers. My eyes look sunken, blue circles around them, my nose is in better shape but a large purple bruise covers the left side of my jaw. I guess i'll leave my hair down today.
I splash my face with cold water and run my fingers through my hair taking the pony tail out. Thank goodness my hair is straight and not curly. Curly hair is nice but I can't imagine fighting to survive and having to manage my hair at the same time.
At some point today I need a long hot shower.
"Well, don't you look like a ray of sunshine." Says Peter who is standing at the sink adjacent mine. I don't answer because I'm not a morning person, I just shrug at him and turn back to stop the faucet.
When I'm walking past him he grabs my arm and turns me to look at him. "What?" I snap and I self consciously take note of the curious eyes glancing in our direction. I'm really really not a morning person. I hope my face shows how much I don't want to be messed with this morning.
"Woah, no need to bite my head off." He says releasing my arm. "Just thought i'd help you out."
This confuses me and before I can ask him what he means he puts both his hands on my shoulders and turns me around. I can feel him tugging at my hair and I turn around to stop him but instead i'm staring at a white fluffy little feather.
He holds it up to my face and then drops it. We both watch it float down onto the cement floor. I'm about to thank him but he opens his mouth again.
"Maybe you're used to feathers." He laughs. "Sleeping with the chickens."
I just turn and walk away. I know an insult when I hear one and I'm not going to thank him for the feather plus, I'd rather not start trouble. I'm in enough shit.
I see Christina and Will standing at the door. To my surprise they're waiting for me. I can't express how much better that makes me feel.
Tris is already in the training room when we get there. She must have been here early training to raise her rank.
Should I have a schedule memorized?
I look around the room, and I find myself relieved that Eric isn't here. I let the air out of my lungs, I guess I was holding my breath.
Everyone walks over to punching bags and just starts training. It's really annoying how they all know what to do. Like they're programmed.
For all I know they could be. They've all been written in this way. Each one has strings controlling them.
Right?
"Good morning." Says Four, snapping me out of my silent fuming. I look at him and I can tell he's not having a good morning. I'm pretty sure it has to do with Tris having a new tattoo and me being right. He shrugs in her direction. "You were right."
"I know." I say with a sigh, surprised that I don't feel good about it and I start walking to the only remaining punching bag.
He follows me.
"Any other surprises?" He asks, taking his place behind the bag, holding it firmly as I take my first punch. It's weak because he doesn't even move.
"Nope." I'm not about to tell Four his future. It's the only power I have here, knowing what's in store for them meanwhile they control what happens to me.
His eyes narrow. "You know that if something happens, you're responsible. These are all people around you. Not puppets. You can help them all but you're choosing not to."
I stop and look him directly in the eyes. This isn't part of the movie. My heart starts beating fast and I can feel myself starting to panic.
He's right.
He's so right.
Why didn't I think about it that way?
The lights feel brighter and I start to feel dizzy with guilt. I haven't done anything yet but I already know that everything that comes after. . .and I AM choosing not to say anything. I'm being beyond selfish.
I have to rest my head against the bag. I think I hear Four ask if i'm alright but I feel like i'm submerged under water. Drowning in my own selfishness.
If I don't say anything to the victim. . . the person about to be stabbed.
If I don't warn them.
Doesn't that make me the same as the person holding the knife?
Will I be the bad guy in this version?
The one trying to save herself?
I'm consciously being led to the bench where I sit with my head between my legs, this might become a common position. Maybe it's the hunger catching up to me paired with this overwhelming guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach but I feel so hollow.
Four leaves me alone and goes back to being an instructor. I feel eyes on me but I can't think about them right now.
"Why the hell are you taking a break right now? You haven't even started yet." Says an angry voice. I know it's Eric. So he's arrived.
Fuck him.
I feel like crying but I also feel. . .like hitting something. I'm so angry and depressed I just want to die. I can't remember ever feeling like this, so filled with a crushing anger, I feel like i'm going to implode and explode all at the same time.
How dare Four place the blame on me. Even if it's future blame, he's naming me responsible for whatever happens. This is a goddamn movie. SO what if i'm only thinking of myself? If I don't then who will?
Why should I care about anyone here?
They're NOT real.
Not to me.
"WELL? INITIATE?"
I look up to see his glaring grey eyes. His hands are balled into tight fists.
I'm not afraid of him.
I'm too angry for fear.
I focus all my anger into my glare while I stand, not taking my eyes off him.
Its literally a glaring contest. I see someone walk up to Eric from the corner of my eye and I hear the sound of someone clearing their throat.
Neither of us looks away.
My hands hurt and I open and close them. My nails were digging into my palms. My hands were balled into fists too.
Before I even know what's happening. I feel strong arms wrap tightly around me. I'm still glaring at Eric but he's smirking now. His eyes look amused. Someone is holding my arm tightly, almost enough that it hurts.
"What, going to hit me?" Eric laughs. I see red flashes behind my eyelids.
I don't remember lifting my fist to hit him.
I don't even remember seeing people rush to stop me.
I don't even remember stepping forward.
I just feel so angry. I hate this world and I hate everything.
None of this is fair.
I don't know who is holding me back but I curse them to hell.
"What about you?" I say through gritted teeth. "Are you going to kill me? Are you going to throw me to the Faction-less? Big bad boss?" I throw the threats he and Max concocted in his face in a voice I don't recognize. I want to make him angry.
It works.
His face distorts into rage and for a second I feel my anger driven bravery waver. Replaced by fear. I almost regret everything I've ever done in my life.
He takes one giant step forward and grabs a fist full of my hair. Yanking me forward and out of the arms that, now that I think about it, were probably holding me back to protect me.
My hair feels like its going to be ripped out. My scalp is on fire.
I instinctively grab onto the arm that has a hold of my hair and dig my nails in. His grip doesn't lessen. If anything he just raises it higher pulling my hair even more.
Hes dragging me outside now and I don't know where. He's not looking at me but I keep glaring. I glance at the arm and hand that's clawed onto his.
The tiny 'Be Brave' tattoo looks darker, the veins in my wrist bulging and making the words look harsh, it's almost ironic.
He finally throws me onto the ground. I land hard on my hands and knees. I hear a door slam.
My nails made large scratches down his fore-arm. I've drawn blood.
Good.
At least he let go of my hair. The back of my head still burns and now my knees hurt.
I glare back at him and I stand slowly. It's quiet and he's glaring back.
He's tensed, like a lion ready to pounce and tear his prey to shreds. The adrenaline running through my veins is like fire and I have to hold my self back, I can't just flail crazily like a Magikarp. That would be ineffective.
The blood on his arm excites me, I feel dangerous. I remember him saying they should just kill me and be done with it.
I want to kill him.
I want to make him feel like they SHOULD have killed me when they had the chance.
My mind goes blank and I run at him with my right fist raised.
He's fast and he catches it in his large iron grip. I raise my other arm to strike and he just grabs that one too. I'm struggling against him trying to get my hands free.
I go to kick him and he puts both of my pathetic fists into one of his hands and with his free hand he deflects my kick and punches me in the gut, HARD.
I cough, my vision blurs and I feel my legs give out.
NO.
I'm not done.
I pull back with all my strength and weight to try and free my hands again. When that doesn't work I go in to try and bite him. He smacks me right in the face.
At that exact moment he releases my hands and I fall backwards onto my butt.
All my emotions disappear replaced by pure shock, all my anger is just gone.
Poof.
My cheek is stinging and my gut feels like he punched a hole through me. I instinctively put a hand to my injured cheek and look up at Eric.
My mouth hangs open, I can't believe he slapped me in the face.
SLAPPED ME
He stands there, like a statue of perfect patience.
"Are you done?" He asks me, barely above a whisper. I jump at the sound of his voice and I just can't handle this. . .I stand up and walk straight up to him.
"Don't try that again." He warns, his brows knitting together with fustration.
I don't listen.
I raise my right fist but I have no more anger to fuel me and he immediately grabs it tightly, before I can hit him. I don't fight to free it.
My vision is blurry and I realize my eyes are watering, I can't see him clearly anymore. I'm being consumed by sadness, my insides are gone and I just want him to hurt. I need to hurt him back. Before I crumble.
I know its pointless but I raise my left fist and I hesitate before bringing it down onto his chest. He doesn't capture it like he did the other.
There.
I've hit him.
Barely.
The tears are flowing freely now and i'm sobbing loudly, sucking air in and transforming it into loud gasps of pitiful noises. My knees buckle from beneath me releasing me from my craze and my whole weight sags to the floor. He lets go of my right fist.
I'm so pathetic.
I want to go home or at this point just disappear.
To him this must have been like dealing with a giant toddler throwing a tantrum. I've all but effectively scratched and tried to bite him.
I sob till my throat is dry and my cheeks burn from the salt in my tears. Till I can't even breathe. All the while Eric is just standing there.
I hate him for seeing me like this.
It's quiet now, with the only sounds coming from an occasional sniffle. My lungs hurt. Everything hurts and I feel really empty.
I didn't accomplish anything from my outburst.
"What brought all this on?" He asks moving towards me. I don't answer. I'm actually not sure how to answer or if I can. I open my mouth and nothing comes out.
When my eyes meet his again, he doesn't look so scary and mean and I just feel embarrassed so I look away. Why did I want to kill him?
He grabs the hand I have pressed to my cheek and rips it away, I press it to the cold concrete. He then grips my chin, turning my face to examine his work.
"I got you good." he says.
I can literally feel a hand print on my cheek and I laugh. I sound like a raspy dying fox that's smoked cigarettes my whole life and it makes me laugh harder. It hurts a ton but I can't help it. I just clutch my stomach and laugh.
I'm crazy aren't I?
But he's laughing too.
.
We sit like that for a moment longer. Even after the laughter dies down and the echoes become silent.
Hes leaning against the concrete wall with his injured arm slung casually over his knee. His other leg extended. He seems to be relaxed. Sure that i'm not going to go crazy again. I won't.
I'm seated with both my legs under me. It's uncomfortable and not to mention I'm already really sore. I probably look like a mess.
I should be okay now.
When I finally look around at where we are I realize its just an empty room. Maybe used as a separate training. On the far wall lean punching bags and spare equipment. It could also just be a storage space.
I wonder what the others are doing right now? Probably thinking about how suicidal I am.
Eric stands and offers me his hand. I look up at him and he's not smiling but he doesn't look angry. Just expectant. I slide my free hand into his while still holding my stinging cheek. It's a faded sting and I imagine it looks like a giant red hand print over an equally giant blue bruise.
His hand feels rough and calloused.
These hands feel strong and large and they make me feel impossibly vulnerable. Like he could crush my hand into dust.
"Let's get you looked at." He says and pulls me up. My legs feel stiff and he literally lifts me to my feet and releases my hand, Its absence leaves my hand feeling even more vulnerable. "Can you walk?"
I just nod and follow after him, my feet bare. Making little pitter patter noises with each step. My hand hangs to my side, feeling weird with nothing to do. I wipe it against my pants. He glances back at me a few times, maybe to make sure I don't fall over and die at any moment. I dismiss the thought that I may look much worse than I feel because I feel pretty shitty.
Would he let me go and grab my boots?
At the infirmary a kind looking tattooed lady with extremely short blonde hair looks up at us from her desk. When she sees Eric she stands up quickly. "Sir."
Oh, right. He's a leader.
I sit on the nearest gurney and she brings all these weird smelling creams and ointments and one long needle. I glance at Eric and he just takes a seat on the bed next to me.
That needle is large.
The shot, thank god, was for Eric. Which he administers to himself and motions for her to just work on me.
She starts on my face, spreading a foul smelling ointment around my eyes and over my abused cheek. I wonder what it's supposed to do besides make me feel slimy.
She starts to lift my shirt and my hand shoots up to stop her reflexively. I don't want to remove any clothing in front of anyone, it's not just because Eric is here. I don't know this woman.
We both glance at Eric and then back at each other. I'm hoping he'll tell her to just leave it. He doesn't say anything but he sighs and turns away, gentleman like.
"I won't lift it too high, you don't have to take it off. There's no need to be embarrassed" She says reassuringly. "I just want to treat your stomach."
I'm about to question how she knows my stomach hurts when I realize I've been clutching it. I move my arm and she lifts my shirt slowly. She doesn't look surprised and she doesn't ask how I got hurt.
I wonder how i'd answer if she did ask.
The cold air on my exposed stomach gives me goosebumps. I suck air in sharply when the cold ointment gets rubbed over the start of a deep dark bruise that spreads over my abdomen. When I tense to fight the cold, pain shoots through like cramps but her slow circular motions rub the pain out. I'm getting a belly rub, like i'm a dog but I am oh, so grateful.
I could be a dalmatian with all these spots.
She makes me drink a clear thick nasty liquid, painkillers I guess and adjusts my bed so that I'm not laying down but i'm also not sitting straight up and then turns to fix Eric up.
The drink soothes my throat but tastes like lotion.
Yuck.
He has to get stitches and I immediately feel guilty. His face shows no sign of pain when the needle goes in and out of his skin pulling it closed.
Maybe the shot was to numb it?
I can't watch anymore so I turn away and focus on the numbing tingles in my fingertips and the way my eyelashes keep touching the ointment on my cheeks.
My breathing is even and raspy.
"So are you going to tell me what made you crazy?" Asks Eric breaking the silence.
"It's just a misunderstanding with Four." I sigh without looking back at him.
I can never tell Eric.
"ahhh, You have a crush on him and he doesn't feel the same back?" He says this mockingly, like it's not uncommon for some love-struck girl to go crazy at being rejected.
I turn and glare at him, shocked that he'd come up with such a stupid theory.
Do I really look like a dumb love-struck girl? I start to feel better that he had to get stitches and wish it hurt him.
"I don't have a. . ." I start and then I just sigh again and lay my head back. "I don't care what you think."
As soon as I say that, I feel weird. I feel unsure but why would I care what he thinks?
But how does that make sense? If I was rejected by Four why would I attack Eric?
"My advice. I think you should avoid Four. He's a coward and he's weak."
At that I look back at Eric who is lounged in his bed too.
What a weird thing to say. He glances at me and shrugs then stares up at the ceiling. I realize the Nurse lady has left us alone.
I decide I don't need to watch what I say if we don't have an audience.
"Are you giving me dating advice?" I ask and I don't disguise the shock and disgust in my voice. I hardly feel like Mr. personality would have any good advice on anything involving social interactions with others.
Unless it's a fist-to-face situation.
"Not dating advice, just advice in general, or if you would prefer. A warning."
"What makes him a coward?" I ask. I can't help but be curious.
Four seems like he couldn't have a cowardly bone in his body but then I remember Eric and Four don't like each other.
"You aren't just saying that cause you don't like him right?And why would you care?"
He sits up and faces me and I flinch at the movement thinking he's going to hit me but nothing comes. When I look at his face he's smiling. It's an almost cute smile. I can't help but find that I prefer his angry scary face more though.
He's unpredictable.
A smile is more threatening than a scowl.
"I don't care." He shrugs. "But YOU were the one who attacked me over an argument that you're having with HIM." He continues and I feel the heat rise into my face cause he's right. "I don't like Four, but i'm not going to get involved in his lovers quarries."
"Oh, right." I say embarrassed. I can't look at him cause it's so weird but I don't want Eric to think Four likes me and that I like Four for that matter.
Four belongs with Tris and drama like this could threaten that.
"I don't like Four and he doesn't like me, it's not about love or like. He just made me really angry. . ."
"It doesn't really matter. Just learn to keep yourself in check. Emotions cloud your thinking and make you stupid." He says and he runs his hand through his hair. I see the stitches, there's ointment over them and it looks shiny, red, and gross.
He see's me examining the stitches, a grin spreads across his handsome face.
His smile makes me feel like i'm walking on egg shells, or near a time bomb ready to explode at the slightest prod.
My stomach turns nervously. Anxiety.
"You effectively scratched me and then tried to bite me. Do you want to pull my hair too?" He asks mockingly, leaning forward as though to let me grab his hair.
His hair is a light brown color. His face is close to mine, I know i'm blushing.
I really tried to bite him.
I don't grab his hair or comment on how he actually pulled my hair first. It's stupid.
Besides his hair is so short I don't think I could get enough in a fist to actually pull.
When he sees that i'm not going to do anything he sits back again and I relax a fraction. He almost looks disappointed. like what? 'No more fight left in you?'
We sort of just sit there quietly and I think about my first day here.
My first day in this world.
"You saved me." I say softly and I look at him, I realized that I said it as a question.
"It surprised me." He says simply and his eyes meet mine. He's confirmed it. Answering my question.
But his eyes. . .They're so impossibly calm and gray and deep and. . .Pretty.
He saved my life.
We stare at each other for what feels like eternity. Neither of us want to ask the other why.
Why I jumped.
Why he saved me.
My chest feels tight. The longer we stare the tighter it feels. I almost feel like I need to put some of that special ointment on my chest.
It's painfully strange.
He stands quickly as if about to leave. I almost feel disappointed.
Almost
I want to ask why he saved me and I know it'll eat away at me until I find out. I'm about to ask but instead. . .
"It's almost lunch break. As soon as that's over I expect you to go back and finish the day." He says sternly and he's heading towards the door.
"Don't lose on purpose, ever again"
I have to fight again? I groan inwardly.
"What if I don't want to fight? What if I lose?" I ask and he turns sharply, his face betrays the earlier playful-ness.
The casual guy who asked if I wanted to pull his hair.
Maybe it was just an illusion?
His face is severe again and his eyes are a stormy gray. Its dizzy-ing how he can change so quickly. Just like the weather.
"Then you aren't trying." He says through tight lips. "And you're better off at the bottom of that chasm."
It's as though he's slapped me in the face all over again.
I know i'm not trying as hard as I should. . .As hard as everyone else is trying and I'm not surprised that someone noticed.
But no one knows how hard it is for me to even. . .move.
When all I want to do is disappear.
"I never asked you to save me, you know." I whisper and I hate how weak and childish I sound.
I stare at my hands.
He doesn't say anything and when I look up to see why, It's because he's already gone.
I don't know how long I just lay there, staring at the ceiling but I don't want to get up.
The nurse comes in and out occasionally and never says anything to me. I silently thank her for this time to myself.
When she stops coming into the infirmary I remind myself that lunch breaks have probably begun.
I HAVE been trying, screw Eric.
I go to sleep and silently dream that I won't have to wake up.
I get up and have to convince my feet that they won't shatter upon impact with the floor.
I have to summon the willpower to exit my house and that the door knob won't judge me if I can't.
I have to carry myself everywhere even when the weight is too much to bear.
No one knows the battles we fight internally every day, how much of it we spend just going through the motions.
Where the most impressive thing you did that day was get out of bed.
"You're alive." Says a female voice in my ear, breaking through my silent depressing thoughts, but so accurately countering everything.
I am alive.
I fake a smile at Tris and notice that she isn't alone. Christina, Al, and Will are also here.
Christina looks harsh, like shes been beaten up. A cut on her eyebrow and a matching cut on her lip.
I don't have to pretend to be hurt because I feel weak and tired from depression and when I turn my head to smile at them all, the movement is slow and they notice it.
"How are you alive?" Asks Will, excitedly and he takes a seat at the end of the bed, pushing my feet to the side. "I didn't expect you to look. . .not dead."
I laugh. The heavy feeling lifting a fraction but the sound is off. Unnatural.
They all start to settle in, waiting for me to answer. Christina doesn't look bubbly and happy as usual.
"I'm fine." I lie but in actuality everything on the outside IS fine. I smile at them and they all seem accepting. "Are you alright Christina?" I try to divert the attention to her. "They have a bunch of ointments here, they really help."
"I'm good." She says but she sounds spiteful. Is she mad at me?
She stands and walks out, Will goes after her and Al takes his place at the end of my bed.
Tris pushes me gently over and sits next to me and her expression is thoughtful, she drops my boots near the bed.
Thank god she brought them.
"We thought you might be dead." She says guiltily. I don't blame them. Eric is pretty scary and the way he dragged me out of the room. . . I don't tell them that he actually didn't really even hurt me. Just thoroughly slapped me.
I'm afraid that it might tarnish his reputation and he'll actually come back and kill me.
If you speak of the Devil, the devil shall appear.
But that doesn't explain why Christina was so cold.
"Well one, Eric came back in a worse mood than usual so we thought he killed you." Starts Al and he grabs my toes, like we've been friends forever, not like he's the guy that knocked me out yesterday. I'm listening intently and I don't mind the touch, I like the familiarity. "Two, Four looked worried. Three, Eric took his anger out on Christina and held her out over the chasm. Four . . ."
I gasp and sit up. My gut no longer hurts but it still feels tender and I hate the way the ointment rubs onto my shirt. Like wearing sunblock and having it accidentally rub off onto your bathing suit. I interrupt his listing and he stops touching my toes. I rub the ointment off onto the back of my arm.
I remember the part in the movie where Christina concedes and Eric flips out.
"So she blames me for putting Eric in a bad mood?" I say sadly, putting my arms over my eyes, I'm starting to get a headache. I AM the one who attacked him.
What did I expect? Just being here was bound to change a few things.
I'm grateful they don't ask WHY I attacked Eric. Maybe they just assume I'm suicidal.
"She'll get over it." Says Tris reassuringly. I look at her from under my arm and I notice Four standing in the doorway, awkwardly.
As if he's unsure whether to stay or go.
He's looking at Tris and she's looking back at him. I realize i'm smiling now. They must already like each other. At least that's going smoothly.
I hope.
"We're gonna go grab lunch." She says quickly and gets up, pulling Al along with her. I look between them confused. They don't have to leave.
When she looks at me she adds "I think Four needs to talk to you."
I watch as Four passes Tris and I can't help but feel like there's something wrong here.
"I see that you're alive and well." He says. He doesn't sit which makes this so much more awkward. I was trying to figure out why I felt weird about them passing without a greeting. "I'm sorry for what I said. I realize it wasn't fair."
It's not fair. I glance at the arm over my eye and my stupid 'Be Brave' Tattoo is there like a reminder that i'm a chicken and i'm only trying to save myself.
I can see that Four is getting frustrated with my silence but I don't know what to say.
I accept your apology?
I'm the one who should be sorry. I'm the selfish one. I'm the one who would chose myself over anyone here.
But I don't apologize.
"When she came down that hole. The very first jumper." He starts and he looks like he's seeing the memory. His eyes have that faraway dreamy look. "I just knew I couldn't leave."
I nod, I know.
"I'd been planing to escape because I've been suspicious of the changes and whats going on around here." He admits. "And then, out of nowhere, here comes this girl, that just knows."
He's talking about me now.
He starts pacing and I just watch him walk back and forth.
"I hate not knowing what's going to happen. I hate not being prepared. Then you predicted the future and all of a sudden I realized how I have no control over anything that happens in my life." He runs a frantic hand through his hair. His eyes look wide and I'm starting to feel nervous, like he's snapped. "You already know what's going to happen, cause it's pre-determined, and that means nothing I do. . . The choices I make. They aren't mine."
I reach out to grab him without really meaning to, I'm afraid he's really snapped.
I want to comfort him, hold him together.
He's spiraling and I can relate to the feelings of losing control and fear of the unknown. Even though I'm the cause, I want to fix it.
It's my fault.
He just looks at my hand and finally takes it in his own, It doesn't feel like Eric's. Before I realize it, i'm pulling him towards me, he comes willingly and takes a seat next to me on the bed and rests his head on my shoulder. I can feel him shaking, his breathing is erratic and I know his heart must be beating at a hundred miles per hour. I know what it's like to panic.
I still don't know what to say.
So I don't say anything and I let him sit there.
We're the same.
We're both lost.
Soon he starts to calm down. He closes his eyes a few times and I can tell he's fighting to take control.
"Can you tell me about your world?" He asks in a whisper. I feel like he's a baby bird and I need to protect him.
I just nod.
I can distract him from his world.
I can distract myself from this world.
When I find my voice I tell him about airplanes and oceans, about sharks and bears and deserts. I tell him about the president and about the different countries. I use my hands to describe the giant ships that distribute trades across the oceans. I tell him about beaches and sunblock.
And he just listens.
Then I start to talk about my family.
His hand reaches up to my face and his finger brushes lightly against my cheek. "You're crying." He says.
I didn't realize.
I shrug him off and wipe the rest of the tears off myself. Trying to act cool but I know crying and blubbering is the farthest thing from cool.
I remind myself that Four belongs with Tris and that I want them together. I almost want to tell him.
They're soul mates.
"Well, I'm worried that I might not get to go back home." I say slightly above a whisper and trying to sound harsh. But I'm also worried that i'm becoming too selfish.
"Maybe that wouldn't be so bad." He says and he stands. I silently curse because it's like he answered both my worries.
I look up at him and his brown eyes are so gentle and reassuring like a brother. For a moment I think it really might not be so bad.
"Maybe."
Is it really so easy to let go? To give in?
My stomach growls and my face turns red.
"Lunch is almost over. If we hurry we can get some food." He says with a laugh, and he holds his hand out to me.
I stand without taking it and I motion for him to lead the way. He cocks his head, drops his hand and starts walking out. I try to walk slow enough so I stay behind him rather than next to him.
If what I did in the infirmary leads him on I could get myself into some real trouble. Now that I see him standing so straight and walking so confidently. I feel weird that I wanted to comfort him. He's stronger than me.
"So about what happened in there. . . " I start and he turns around, his right eyebrow is raised.
"It didn't happen." He says and he's smirking.
"Good, cause I told Eric that I didn't like you." I laugh. "I mean I don't like you like that, cause I really don't but uhm never mind." If anyone else were to see that situation they'd also think it was a lovers reconciliation. That is so not the case.
"Oh right about that, what happened between you and Eric? Obviously he didn't kill you." He asks but I couldn't answer him because we were already at the cafeteria and Al is waving us to come join them.
I smile, and this time I feel like its genuine.
I can try, and in time it'll come naturally right?
I sit between Tris and Al. Tris hands me a piece of warm bread and I thank her wholeheartedly.
It tastes amazing, but It could be because I've barely eaten anything since I arrived here.
"You think that tastes good? You have to try the cake." She says smiling.
Four takes a seat across from Tris and I see them make eye contact. She looks away first, shyly.
Four tries to hide his smile behind a cup of whatever it is he's drinking and I feel happy.
Everyone's laughing and having a good time, and even Christina seems to be happy like she's gotten over her previous scare.
She tosses rolled up pieces of bread into Will's and Al's mouths.
She even throws one for me too. I wasn't able to catch it but I tried.
It's really nice.
Maybe it wont be so bad.
Thank you for reading!
Magikarp is a fish from Pokemon.
