I wake up panting. Another nightmare about Marcus. His cold and uncaring voice rings in my head. "It's for your own good, boy." I shudder, and slowly stand up. I can't just sit here-I need to do something. I grab my jacket and leave, careful not to wake Tris.
It's wrong, I tell myself. You're her instructor; you're 18, and she's only 16. These thoughts keep going through my head and I walk towards the training room. I eventually get there, and slowly open the door. No one is in there, so I walk in and close the door behind me. I turn the light on and walk over to the cabinet where they keep the guns. Supposedly, Eric changed the lock after some on the initiates stole one of the knives from the room and killed the first ranked, but the fact that I got in here with no problems tells me that he really didn't. I select my favorite gun, Annabelle, and grab two rounds. I pause, think, and then grab another two. This is going to be a long night, I think, and sigh. I walk over to the lone remaining target hung on the wall from today's earlier training.
You're her instructor. Bang.
You're 18; she's only 16. Bang.
But…she's Abnegation. Like me. I haven't seen another since I left. Bang. I shudder. It's uncontrollable, the shuddering. Father, I think. The reason I left in the first place. Bang. Bang. Bang. I shake the thought out of my head. No, you left him behind when you chose Dauntless. I know if I hold this gun any longer the flashbacks will return so I half jog back to the cabinet, and hang the gun back in its place, and throw the remaining rounds in the box. I walk back over to the target. Six holes are scattered around the center circle. I rip it from the wall, and run out of the room.
I don't exactly know where I'm headed, but I keep running anyways. Eventually I end up at the chasm. I look down at the roaring waters. I was here only hours ago. The memories of Trus's beaten body start to come back into my mind, but I force myself back into reality, and throw the target down in the chasm.
I know Tris will be up soon, so I head back to my room, taking my time. I quietly open the door and walk in. I sit down next to where Tris's head is lying on my pillow. I lift my hand and gently graze her jaw bone, then her temple, then her hairline. She mumbles something, but I can't quite tell what she said. She starts turning in her sleep. "No, no!" she starts screaming, and begins to thrash. I hold her body down so she won't fall off of the bed. She starts sobbing. "Four, Four!" she screams, and calms down a little, until she is silently crying. It hurts me to watch her, this beautiful, strong, tiny little girl, be in this much pain, and know I can't help her. "I know," I whisper. I stay awake the rest of the nights, just watching her, calming her as her nightmares come and go.
When I see the first signs of day, I check my watch. It says it's six in the morning, so I decide to get ready. I walk into the bathroom and shut the door. I turn the shower on, strip down, and stand in it, allowing the scalding water to burn my skin. After a few more minutes of this, I decide my head is clear enough, so I step out and wrap a towel around my waist. I throw on the first clean clothes I can find. I step out of the bathroom with the towel on my shoulder, and see Tris sitting up in bed, her hair in a messy bun. Beautiful, I tell myself, and force myself to focus, and walk over to her.
"Hi," she croaks. I gently run my fingertips over the bruise on her cheek. "Not bad," I tell her. "How's your head?"
"Fine," she says, but I know she is lying. She touches the bump on the back of her head, and I wince with her as I see the pain overtake her face.
I drop my hand down to the side where Peter kicked her. Tingles go through my hand as I feel her warmth through my shirt she's wearing, and my throat tightens. "And your side?" I force out, clearing my throats.
"Only hurts when I breathe."
I'm glad to hear her sense of humor is still there. I smile. "Not much you can do about that."
"Peter would probably throw a party if I stopped breathing."
"Well, I would only go if there was cake." She laughs at my comment, but I can see it hurts her. She grabs the hand I still have on her rib cage. I slide it back slowly, scared of what I might do if I let it linger. I nod to her, indicating that we have to go to breakfast now. We walk slowly next to each until we reach the dining hall, and I turn and face her. "I'll go in first," I tell her, hesitating, and add "See you soon, Tris."
I walk over to my usual spot with Lauren and Zeke. I glance back right before I sit down, making sure she's following my advice. I see her sit down next to Christina with her head down, and I take my own seat. "Dude, where were you last night? We waited for you, but we couldn't wait any longer for the train," Zeke asks, throwing a roll at my head. I dodge out the way. "I had something I had to take care of,' I tell him, and shoot Tris a quick glance over my shoulder. I hear the doors to the dining hall open and I look over. I see Drew walk in, and my body tenses. He looks at me, and we make eye contact. I don't have to wait for his reaction to know that my eyes are full of pure hatred. He quickly turns away and ducks in between his friends.
"Four, what happened last night?" Lauren asks, pointing to the bruise on my face. "Peter, Drew, and Al attacked Tris. They…touched her," I tell them, my voice full of hate. Lauren's eyes go wide. "Oh my God, is she okay?" she asks.
"Yeah, she's fine."
"These initiates get more twisted every year, ever since Erik took over," Zeke says, ripping a bit from his bagel.
"Yeah, well, what can we do?" Lauren asks him. I decide I don't want to discuss this any longer, so I get up and walk between the initiates' tables. "Transfers," I shout. 'We're doing something different today. Follow me." They all rise, and follow me out of the dining hall.
We walk down through the pit until we are at the glass wall. I start climbing, forcing myself to control my breathing in front of the initiates. Finally, I reach the top. I grab the ground, mentally thanking it for its stability, and then refocus back on helping the transfers up. When most of them are on the new path, I lead them down it. After a minute I turn around to make sure they are all there, and see Drew with his swollen face lagging behind. Might as well have a little fun at his expense.
"Pick up the pace, Drew," I call out. I look for Tris to watch her reaction to this joke only the two of us can truly understand. I see the gleam in her eyes as she laughs, but that's not what stands out to me; it's her wrapped around friend Will's arm. I feel a bubble of anger rise to my throat, and the small smile that was on my lips quickly drops. I've never felt like this before. Am I actually jealous of him? I turn back around and lead the group up a metal staircase in silence. I lead them through the Dauntless training facilities and into a short, concrete hallway. I stop and face the group.
"This is a different kind of simulation known as the fear landscape," I tell them. "It has been disabled for our purposes, so this isn't what it'll look like the next time you see it. Through your simulations, we have stored data about your worst fears. The fear landscape accesses that data and presents you with a series of virtual obstacles. Some of the obstacles will be fears you previously faced in your simulations. Some may be new fears. The difference is that, in the fear landscape, you are aware that it is a simulation, so you will have all your wits about you as you go through." I glance around to make sure they are following me. Most of them look tired or bored, so I continue. "The number of fears you have in your landscape varies according to how many you have. I told you before that the third stage of initiation focuses on mental preparation. That is because it requires you to control both your emotions and your body-to combine the physical abilities you learned in stage one with the emotional mastery you learned in stage two, to keep a level head."
I try to explain the simulation to them as quickly as I can. I try to be up here as little as I can. The room makes me nervous. My eyes find Tris in the crowd. Somehow just seeing her calms me down. "Next week you will go through your fear landscape as quickly as possible in front of a panel of Dauntless leaders," I continue to tell the group, my eyes never leaving Tris's face. That will be your final test, which determines your ranking for stage three. Just as stage two of initiation is weighed more heavily than stage one, stage three is weighed heaviest of all. Understood?" They all nod.
"You can get past each obstacle in one of two ways. Either you find a way to calm down enough that the simulation registers a normal, steady heartbeat, or you find a way to face your fear, which can force the simulation deeper, for example," I shrug. Unfortunately, that's the only way I've been able to get past mine. Two of my fears have too many painful memories to calm down, one I can't avoid, and the last, well, I just can't calm myself down. "I suggest that you take the next week to consider your fears and develop strategies to face them."
"That doesn't sound fair," Peter calls out somewhere from the back of the group. "What if one person only has seven fears and someone else has twenty? That's not their fault."
I flash back to last night, of the image of him dangling Tris over the chasm rail like a flag, of his touching her. The idea of him talking about fairness now is hysterical to me, and I can't control myself; I start laughing. "Do you really want to talk to me about what's fair?" I slowly start walking towards him. The initiates make a path for me-they can see I'm going in for the kill.
"I understand why you're worried, Peter. The events of last night certainly prove you're a coward." My voice is hard and full of hate-deadly. Peter stares back at me, remembering the beating I gave Drew and his narrow escape.
"So now we all know that you're afraid of a short, skinny girl from Abnegation," I say, my voice practically a whisper. The corners of my lips turn up in an evil smile. I turn and make my way back through the initiates. I see Tris's smile on her face as I walk by, and I smile back. After I explain how the landscape works, I dismiss them for the rest of the day.
Because I worked last night, I have the afternoon all to myself. I spend a good majority of my time throwing knives with Zeke and Lauren in the training room. I haven't gotten much sleep lately, so I decide to take nap after we finish. I guess I really needed that nap, because the next thing I know Lauren is shaking me awake and she's dressed in her pajamas.
"What time is it?" I grumble.
"Four," Lauren says, sniffling. Then do I notice the swollen, red eyes and the tears streaming down her face. "It's Al," she croaks, and starts to cry again. I pull her in to my arms and let her cry in to my shoulder until she's done.
By the time we get to the chasm, the Dauntless have finished the removal and cleanup of the body. It happens every year; one initiate can't take the pressure and doesn't want to become factionless, so the throw themselves over the rail and into the chasm. It's never affected me so much before. Maybe it's because it's my first group of initiates. Whatever the reason is, I feel a sadness in the pit of my stomach.
We can't face Eric's stupid "memorial ceremony," so I go back to my room with Lauren. I hear a knock on my door a few minutes later. When I open it, Zeke comes in and walks over to Lauren on my bed and starts patting her hair. He whispers words that I can only assume are soothing in to her ear as he tries to comfort her. I don't know how I fit in here anymore, so I leave them alone. I wander until I find where Eric was holding the ceremony until I find Tris at the end of a hallway.
"Tris," I say softly.
"What are you doing here?" she asks in a strained voice. I can tell she's been crying. "Shouldn't you be paying your respects?"
"Shouldn't you?" I know she and Al were friends, even if he did attack her. She still remembers him as the big, happy guy who tried to protect her.
"Can't pay respects when you don't have any," she grumbles, and covers her mouth. I see the tears start to form on the surface of her eyes. "I didn't mean that," she whispers.
"Ah," is all I can say. I know that she really does have no respects to pay him, but it's not out of hate; it's out of loss.
"This is ridiculous," she says angrily. "He throws himself off a ledge, and Eric's calling it brave? Eric, who had you throw knives as Al's head? He wasn't brave! He was depressed and a coward and he almost killed me! Is that the kind of thing we respect here?" She screeches the last few words.
"What do you want them to do? Condemn him? Al's already dead. He can't hear it and it's too late," I say. I've never been good at comforting. I'm not sure exactly what to say.
"It's not about Al," she snaps. "It's about everyone watching! Everyone who now sees throwing themselves into the chasm as a viable option. I mean, why not do it if everyone calls you a hero afterwards? Why not do it if everyone will remember your name? It's…I can't…" I hear her voice crack, and she shakes her head in her hands. I bit my lip, trying to decide if it's too risky to hold her.
"This would never have happened in Abnegation!" she shouts hysterically. "None of it! Never. This place warped him and ruined him, and I don't care if saying that makes me a Stiff, I don't care, I don't care!"
As my eyes wander, trying to decide what to do next, I notice the camera on the wall above her. A wave of panic goes over me as I remember that whoever is in the control room probably just heard everything she said.
"Careful, Tris," I say quietly, keeping my eyes on the camera and hoping she notices.
"Is that all you can say? That I should be careful? That's it?" she scowls at me.
She must have a death wish. "You're as bad as Candor, you know that?" I grumble as I drag her further down the hallway, out of the camera's range. Once we are safe, I put my face close to hers just in case someone saw anything suspicious and sent anyone to check on us.
"I'm not going to say this again, so listen carefully," I whisper, and grasp her shoulders firmly. They are watching you. You in particular."
"Let go of me," she mutters. I realize how hard I'm grabbing her, so I loosen my grip and stand up straight.
"Are they watching you, too?" she whispers, barely audible.
I can't tell her, not yet. "I keep trying to help you but you refuse to be helped," I say gruffly.
"Oh, right. Your help," she snorts. "Stabbing my ear with a knife and taunting me and yelling at me more than you yell at anyone else, it sure is helpful.
I'm genuinely confused at this. "Taunting you? You mean when I threw the knives? I wasn't taunting you," I tell her. "I was reminding you that if you failed, someone else would have to take your place."
She grabs the back of her neck, putting two and two together. For someone so smart, it sure did take her a while to get it.
"Why?" she finally says.
"Because you're from Abnegation and it's when you're acting selflessly that you're at your bravest," I explain. I watch her eyes trying to understand it all.
"If I were you, I would do a better job of pretending that selfless impulse is going away," I say after a minute of silence. "If the wrong people discover it…well, it wouldn't be good for you." It wouldn't be good for either one of us.
"Why do they care about my intentions?" she asks.
"Intentions are the only thing they care about. They try to make you think they care about what you do, but they don't. They don't want you to act a certain way, they want you to think a certain way, so you're easy to understand, so you won't pose a threat to them." I bite the inside of my cheek, hoping I haven't said too much. I stare at Tris for a second, and find myself leaning in closer, my hand pressed against the wall next to her head.
"I don't understand," she says, looking down, "why they care what I think as long as I'm acting how they want me to."
"You're acting how they want you to now, but what happens when your Abnegation-wired brain tells you to do something else, something they don't want?"
The spot between her eyebrows scrunches up as she thinks about this. She looks very cute doing this.
"I might not need you to help me. Ever think about that?" she says proudly. "I'm not weak you know. I can do this on my own.
I shake my head. Tris, you have no idea how much you're going to need me. "You think my first instinct is to protect you, because you're small, or a girl, or a Stiff," I say, choking on the last word, "but you're wrong.
I lean my face closer and place my fingers under her chin and tilt her head up so she is looking right into my eyes. She needs to understand this. "My first instinct is to push you until you break, just to see how hard I have to press." I tighten my grip on "break" so she understands just how dangerous I really am, but her eyes seem unmoved. "But I resist it," I say softly, and loosen my grip again. Now she seems nervous.
"Why," she asks swallowing, "why is that your first instinct?"
"Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up," I explain. "I've seen it before; it's fascinating." My hand move around her head, grazing very inch, until it reaches the back of her neck. "Sometimes I just…want to see it again, want to see you awake."
She places her hands on my waist, and I feel my heart jump. She makes me so damn nervous. I think back to what I told myself in the training room earlier. It's not right, you're her instructor. I ignore the voice and place one hand on the small of her back and the other on her head. She leans in and presses her face in to my chest. I tense up, not used to this closeness, but then relax. I like this feeling, I like it a lot.
"Should I be crying?" she asks, her voice muffled by my shirt. "Is there something wrong with me?"
"You think I know anything about tears?" I tell her quietly. My voice stays in a monotone; I'm not sure what this feeling inside of me is.
"If I had forgiven him do you think he would be alive now?" she asks.
"I don't know," I tell her, moving my hand from her head to her cheek in my feeble attempts at comfort. She leans in to it. I feel the warmth of her cheek.
"I feel like it's my fault," she whispers.
"It isn't your fault," I respond, and move my head down so our foreheads are touching. It just seems right.
"But I should have. I should have forgiven him."
"Maybe. Maybe there's more we all could have done," I say, and think back to all the times I could have defended him, or taken the time to help him after the lessons. "We just have to let the guilt remind us to do better next time."
I feel her frown, and she pulls back. She looks at me like she's trying to solve a puzzle.
"What faction did you come from, Four?" she asks. I realize I just said an old Abnegation saying. Crap.
"It doesn't matter," I reply quickly, lowering my gaze. "This is where I am now. Something you would all do well to remember for yourself."
She is just staring at me. I feel an urge to get closer to her, but I resist. I want nothing more than to kiss her, but I know I shouldn't, I can't. Instead, I kiss her forehead. She doesn't say anything; we stay like this for what seems like hours, with nothing and no one disturbing us.
While we stand there in our embrace, I realize two things: one, she has fallen for me completely, and two, that I feel the same way about her.