Amity in Me: Part 8

Time had passed. With more scrimmages ending with more trainees in the clinic. I didn't have much time to practice anymore with all the new patience we had. It was almost depressing seeing everyone coming in with black eyes, broken bones, or bleeding. It became more and more obvious how serious this was; how hard we needed to train to protect Chicago. Tris was in the clinic quite often, usually passed out and bruised. But she was a fighter; I could see it in her eyes. She was determined to get her name back above the line.

The more I spoke with Tris, the more I saw how similar we were. Both of us had come from a more peaceful background and struggled to get out footing in our new home. But we both proved everyone wrong. We were making strides far longer than anyone else; we had to. We were leagues away from everyone.

I remember when she had come into the clinic after training with Peter. They had both came in at the same time, but she was uncurious. After I tended to her bruises and checked for broken bones, I turned my attention to Peter, who was sitting up on one of the beds.

"I see she got you pretty good." I say, pouring some antiseptic onto a cotton ball.

He scoffed, touching his nose and looking at the blood that had collected on his finger.

"Yeah, but I won. That's what really matters. I don't think she's going to make it above the line." He said.

I nodded, looking back at her. She was wrapped in a blanket, breathing softly. I sighed, looking down. It hurt to think she might have to turn away to the factionless; she was trying so hard.

"I hope she can pull through. She's a tough one." I said, running the cotton ball over his scratches.

He winced at the stinging of the medicine. I laughed, putting more on another cotton ball.

"But congrats Peter. I'm glad you're making it through." I said, forcing a smile.

He couldn't tell it was forced. His face had lit up.

"Of course! I'm tough! But after hearing what happened to her before makes me think she's pretty tough too." He said

I remember. It was a situation with her and a group of others. When she was above the line, they came and tried to push her over one of the cliffs. I had heard that one of them was Al, a friend of hers. But when he was discovered, and she chose not to forgive her, he had stepped off the edge. I remember seeing his body, bleeding and twisted. The though made he shudder. To think, someone being that desperate.

"Yeah. She's gonna make it. I can feel it." I said, putting bandages on his wounds.

And with that, we never so=poke of it again. He told me about his other fights he had that week and I tried to laugh and enjoy his victories. But, on the inside, I was torn. Both from Tris and what Eric had said. No mercy.

And then, it happened. Tris had her last battle with Big Tank and lost. She had come into the clinic again, passed out. Big tank left the scrimmage, unscratched and sweating. She walked with the medics to the clinic.

"I'm sorry Lil Tank. I had to. She would have-"

"I know. It's okay. Good Job. I'm glad you made it to the next stage. "I said.

She narrowed her eyes. I went over to Tris, checking her pulse and checking for broken bones again. Tank put a hand on my shoulder.

"She won't make it to the next round you know. She is below the line." She warned.

I only nodded, not looking at her. O dressed Tris' wounds and made her comfortable.

"Yeah. I know. Today was the last day." I said, sighing.

"I'll see you at the shooting event tomorrow, right?" She asked

I nodded, taking my tray of supplies back to the cabinet. Big Tank took this time to leave, but not before coming behind me and giving me a hug.

"It's going to be okay." She said, leaving.

I sighed. I didn't know anymore. Christina, Peter, and Will had made it above the line to the next stage, so I should be happy. But I feel like I was leaving a dear friend behind. Tris was like a mixture of Jenny and Fred. People that I had been so close to and had the luxury of calling friend. And now, she'll be gone. Maybe I'd see her around with the other Factionless. I wouldn't be able to talk to her or go near her though. And I think that's what made it worse. That I had to see her in that way; this person I felt was so strong. If she couldn't make it, could I? If I was not a medic, would I be below the line with her?

The next day, I boarded the train to the shooting event. I didn't get a lot of sleep that night; being too worried about Tris. She had woken up this morning, wondering where she was. Christina and Will delivered the bad news to her and bided their goodbye. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. We shared a quick look before we had to get ready. Tris looked exhausted, like she had been running for her life. And in a way, she had. But she just missed her exit.

Then, in the corner of my eye, I see her. Running along the train, trying to get on. It was unbelievable. I blinked my eyes and looked forward, thinking it was a dream. But when I saw Four reach for her hand and bring her in, I knew that it wasn't. When Eric saw her, he smirked.

"And who let you on?" He asked, stepping to her.

She glanced at Four for a moment before answering, "No one. I get myself up."

Eric looked around and shrugged.

"Alright then. Here are the rules." He started.

And while he was going through everything, I looked at her and smiled. That was the Tris I knew. Then one that was so determined to be the best she can be and didn't take no for an answer. That was what it meant to be Dauntless; Fearless

AND I KNEW THAT THAT IS WHEN I WANTED TO BE; JUST LIKE HER