Chapter 9

Death, I have always been afraid but now I have come to see you for what you truly are. I will embrace you as if you are an old but not forgotten friend and you will swallow me into your darkness like a cozy blanket. You are misunderstood and you are seen as wicked but you are not. You give comfort to those in suffering and listen to those who are depressed.

Death, you come like the thief in the night, leaves nothing behind except memories. I ask of one thing and nothing more. Leave good memories of me; my laughter, my smile and my wicked sense of humor. Let those who truly know me remember the moments we shared and live out my ambitions and dreams. Let my name flow into the wind and not a curse under people's mouths. Let them feel the warmth you gave me, my cozy blanket.

My eyes danced behind my eyelids as my fingers slipped through the metal bar, I will welcome my destiny even though my life was short lived. This life isn't supposed to be long lived but to be cherished while we have it.

A strong grip on my wrist shocks me out of the depths of my mind. My eyes spring open to meet gray ones that I have come too familiar with. Instead of their usual cold emotionless glare they burn of worry and determination.

"Victory, grab on to me," he demands.

Fuck destiny.

Quickly I grab his arm with my right hand, holding for dear life. The pain in my arm throbs throughout my whole body. He pulls me up to ledge of the bridge till I can pull myself up. My body quakes of the aftershock of what could happen.

I could have died. My eyes look up at my savior, my hero. I wouldn't be sitting here now if it wasn't for him. He sat there looking at me, heavily breathing, his eyebrows scrunched up in focus. Never before am I glad to see him. My head lays on his black clothes chest as tears ran down my face like a stream. No words are spoken between us but I can feel his hand rubs my back. We can silently agree that I will be alright.

The last time I took a bath was when I was five and my father washed me up. Mother was always busy at work but Father was always home by five; rain or blizzard. His job as an Immunochemists never stopped him from being a parent. He would play with my hair and lightly splash me as he made sure I was clean. That had to be one of my favorite memories of him before he passed away when I turned ten.

Now at eighteen I am sitting in a tub with warm water enveloping me. Eric insisted that I take a bath instead of a shower saying that the bath will soothe me. The light notes of lavender embrace me as I wash my skin, carefully over the bruise on my arm. But they are still there, as fresh as a flesh wound. They sting is still there and I can feel it burning. I dunk my head into the water, my scalp throbs from being pulled tightly by Sam but I took a heavy dose of painkillers to ease the pain. The down side of the pills is that I will be in a sleep coma for the next few hours and I can drown in the tub if I don't hurry to my bed soon. I empty the tub before reaching for my towel to dry off. I dried off before slipping into my underwear and an oversized t shirt since most of my clothes are still in Teresa's possession. I dried my curly hair leaving it out from my usual ponytail. I dodge looking at myself in the mirror as I opened the door. I'm too horrified to see my reflection.

My apartment is missing its usual warmth aura, the smell of crisp apples from the Amity farms and the soft sound of jazz that I like to play. It felt cold and unwelcome, something I made sure to change when I first moved in. Eric stood in front of my massive bookcase looking over my psychology selection. I sort my bookshelves by genre instead of alphabetical order. I slowly made my way towards him as his back faces me. I can see the outline of his muscles from his fitted shirt, every muscle is well defined and his pants hang on his waist perfectly.

Victory, get yourself together.

I straighten my back as he turned around sensing my presence.

I'm not weak, I'm strong. I am Dauntless.

He looks at me with concern; something I am not familiar with and I already hate it. Does he view me as weak?

"Thanks Eric."

I mentally winced at the coldness and distance from my voice, I didn't do it intentionally.

Eric's jaw tightens as he crossed his bulging arms over his chest.

"You're welcome," he grunts before making his way to the door.

Great, I've upset him.

Quickly without thinking I reach for him, my hand catches the bottom hem of his shirt. He stops mid step as the silence between us grows. I bite my bottom lip debating on if I should ask for what I want.

"Stay."

I can't be alone with my thoughts, not now. He is the perfect distraction.

Can I trust him?

"Please."

My hand moves to touch is bicep, his skin chills my fingertips. I rest my head on his back inhaling his scent; leather and a manly musk. I can feel my heart beat at ease as his scent surrounds me.

"Ok, I'll stay."

Hello everyone,

Some of y'all might hate we see more of Victory embracing a softer side but don't fret, in the next chapters there will be some major ass kicking. We will see more of Victory's secret past in the upcoming chapters. Until then…

Abschied von, MsJennyLin