Tris' POV
As we walk up to the door of his room, Four turns to me.
"Can I run a quick errand? I'll be back within a few minutes. You can make yourself at home in there." I nod, wondering what he has to go do.
He opens the door, and after making sure I will be alright in here, he walks out, closing the door behind him. I look around his room, and for the first time I take it all in. Of course I hadn't looked around his room the last time I was here.
I walk around, looking at the bare walls and then I notice something on the table next to his bed. There's a knife on it. This knife looks familiar. It's the first knife we used to throw six years ago. I can't believe he still has it. I sit on the bed, and pick it up, feeling the coldness of it against my skin. It reminds me of when we were just kids; when we didn't even know the thing that happened to me even existed. I kind of wish I could go back to those days, but I've come so far.
I know I'll probably never forget what happened to me, but I can at least push it aside for now. I don't have to have it change me completely; I can use it to make me stronger.
I don't know how long I sat there looking at the knife, feeling it in my hands, remembering the past with it, but the door opens and Four walks in. He sees me holding the knife, and walks over to me. He sits next to me on the bed, and gently takes it from my hand. I wonder if he had gotten the wrong thoughts by me holding it. I would never hurt myself, if that's what he was thinking.
Maybe if I ask about the knife he'll tell me about it; about the past it has. He might even mention me; maybe I could find out the reason he stopped talking to me, stopped hanging out with me.
"That's a cool knife, where did you get it?" I always did wonder where he got all the knives we used.
He plays with the knife, spinning it around in his hands. "I got it when I was younger," he says. Well I could have told him that.
"How old were you when you got it?" I ask.
"I was…" he trails off. I wonder why he doesn't want to tell me. He stops looking at the knife, and turns to me. I stare into those blue eyes, the eyes that I'm starting to love looking in to, for what feels like eternity.
"You can trust me, you know," I whisper, looking down at my hands. Maybe he doesn't; I'm just a new transfer to him. I could be gone in a few days if I don't pass initiation. Maybe I don't mean anything to him, that he was just being a nice guy by saving my life.
He reaches up and gently pulls my chin up, making me look into those eyes again. I seem to get easily lost in them.
"I do trust you, Tris," he says. He stares into my eyes as I stare into his. I don't know how long we just stared into each other's eyes. He then speaks up again.
"I got it when I was twelve," he starts. He stands up from the bed, and starts walking around the room. "I was a transfer like you, you know," he says, turning to me. I do know, I want to say, but I don't. I probably should wait until after initiation to tell him who I used to be.
"We're not so different, you and I. I was one of the few who have ever transferred from Abnegation to Dauntless, and now so are you."
"You got a knife when you were twelve in Abnegation?" I ask, playing dumb. I'm pretty good at playing dumb, and it's kind of fun.
"I had more than one. This was just the first one I got," he starts telling me, and I can see in his eyes he is thinking back to when he first got it.
Those eyes are almost as good as telling the story as he is.
*****PAGE BREAK & REWIND******
Tobias's POV
I pause outside the door to my room, and I turn to Tris.
"Can I run a quick errand? I'll be back within a few minutes. You can make yourself at home in there," I say, hopping she'll let me. There's something I have to do.
She nods, and I open the door for her. I make sure she's going to be alright, and then I leave, heading down to the Pit, where there should be a funeral just about starting.
As much as I don't want to be there, don't want any part of it, I need to inform someone about something. That lowlife they're going to be calling brave and courageous shouldn't be seen as that, he should be seen for what he really was.
I make my way there, and walk up to Eric. As much as I don't like the guy, I know he's going to listen to me and change the speech he was going to say about Peter. It's his duty as a Dauntless leader to tell everyone the truth, and he knows it.
I tell him everything I know, leaving out who the person was he was raping, and how I beat him up and left him there. I ask him if he thinks this was a suicide, or if he thinks someone threw the body into the chasm.
He thinks the latter, and I can tell from his expression he knows it's the latter. I don't know if that means I was the one who killed him. But I couldn't really care less, because he deserved everything he got, and much more. He should have been chopped to death and fed to alligators.
After I make sure Eric is going tell everyone who Peter really was, I quickly head back to my room, wanting to be near Tris again. I don't know how she's going to react to everyone knowing what Peter did, so I decide to wait and tell her some other time. I know nobody is going to find out it was Tris who he was raping, but she still might get upset.
As I open the door, I see her holding the knife I had next to my bed. She wasn't planning on hurting herself, was she? She couldn't, she wouldn't. I know what happened to her could really change someone, but she is so much stronger than anyone I've ever met, that I know she's going to get through this. And if she'll let me, I'll be there for her to help her through this.
I quickly walk over to the bed, and sit down. I gently take the knife from her, trying to get the thoughts of her hurting herself out of my mind. I can't imagine Tris doing that.
She pulls me out of my thoughts and asks, "That's a cool knife, where did you get it?"
I spin the knife around in my hand, thinking back to the time when I first got this knife. It was the first knife I ever had. This knife had started my dream to become Dauntless.
"I got it when I was younger," I say, hoping she wouldn't ask more questions. I don't know if I want to tell her my past; let her in like that. I know she has let me in, by letting me help her after the attack; by letting me get close to her, letting me hold her.
"How old were you when you got it?" She asks, and I can tell she's not going to let this go.
"I was…" I trail off, thinking back to the time when I got the knife, and even about the times I used the knife. I used this knife with Bea, when we were just kids. It's the first knife I ever threw, the first knife she ever threw, and I keep it next to my bed to remind me where I came from, where I've been, and where I'm going. It reminds me of the time when I wasn't alone, when I had Bea there. I know we were just kids, but she was the only friend I ever had, and the only friend I ever trusted.
I stop looking at the knife and turn to Tris, staring into her eyes and imagining what it would be like if I was staring into Bea's eyes. I could tell her everything; why I changed and stopped hanging out with her, stopped talking to her. I could tell her how it almost killed me not having her as a friend. I could tell her I missed seeing her smile, and hearing her laugh. She was my best friend, and I know I'll never forget her. But I also know I'll never see her again.
Tris pulls me out of my thoughts when she looks away and whispers, "You can trust me, you know." And I feel like I can trust her; I feel like I can trust her like I trusted Bea all those years ago.
I gently reach my hand over to her chin and pull it towards me, making her look at me again.
"I do trust you, Tris," I say, and I mean it.
"I got it when I was twelve," I start. I get up from the bed and walk around the room, thinking back.
"I was a transfer like you, you know," I say, turning to look at her again. "We're not so different, you and I. I was one of the few who have ever transferred from Abnegation to Dauntless, and now so are you."
"You got a knife when you were twelve in Abnegation?" she asks, her voice mixed with curiosity and shock.
"I had more than one. This was just the first one I got," I say, as I think back to the day I first got this knife.
"I saw a bunch of Dauntless kids playing with it before school one day. I thought it was one of the coolest things I ever saw. So I knew I had to get it," I say, remembering the day.
"So what, you stole the knife from them?" she asks, a smile spreading upon her face.
I look away, knowing I can't keep the smile from forming on my face.
"No way! You did not steal a knife from a Dauntless kid when you were twelve!" She laughs. I like the sound of her laugh, I haven't heard it a lot but I know I want to hear more of it.
"I told you, this wasn't my only knife I had when I was a kid," I say smiling, shaking my head at the memories.
"You mean to tell me, you stole multiple knives from Dauntless kids? How?" she asked, shocked.
"Oh, let's just say I'm pretty good," I say, throwing a wink her way, and earning another laugh.
"So what did you do with all these knives you got? Did you keep the collection on your bedroom wall?" she jokes, knowing how little personal items we could have in Abnegation. I laugh, imagining all the knives I had stuck in a wall in my bedroom.
"Ha, how about we save that story for another time." I don't know what she would think of me after I tell her the things I did in Abnegation; how selfish I was to want to learn how to fight and throw knives.
"How about it's your turn to tell a story," I suggest. "We can make this into a game; every story I tell you about me, you have to tell me a story about you." I want to get to know more about her; how she became such a strong Dauntless girl coming from Abnegation, and this may be my chance to find out.
She looks around, as if thinking on if she wants to play, then looks at me with a smile and says, "Deal."
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