Chapter Twelve
"Wake her UP, Four!"
"I'm trying!"
"What's going on?! Is she Divergent? This isn't Divergence!"
"Tris, be quiet! I'm trying to wake her up! Nothing's working!"
I can hear everything around me; I know their voices, but I cannot move. I hear the beeping—it is so fast that it sounds like one long beep—and I hear other noises, and I feel a stab in my neck before I am finally able to regain control of myself, and I open my eyes.
Tris.
Drake.
And Tobias.
My eyes rest on Tobias for only a second, before they go back to Drake and images of what he did to me come flooding back. I have straps across my wrists and my ankles, holding me to the table, just like the arms in the ground. The beeping gets faster, and I struggle against the straps so hard that they begin to cut into my skin. I cry out in pain and panic, and Drake sets his hands on my shoulders, trying to calm me down.
But I cannot trust him after that. It was a simulation, sure, but he still did it, and I cannot trust him I cannot trust him I cannot trust him. "Don't touch me!" I scream, my voice weaker than expected.
He quickly stops touching me and holds his hands in the air, showing me that he is obeying. "Get me out of this chair," I hiss at Tris.
They all move to unshackle me, and as soon as I am free, I start running. I run out of the room with the chair, down the hall, into the Pit, and down the hall that I walked in when I first came here. I see the net where I fell, and I jump onto it, my feet falling into the holes. I struggle to get up, and I look up at the light. There is light! I have to see the light; I have to go back. I cannot stay here; not with Drake. I claw at the dirt, trying to get up. It is not working, why is this not working?! I glance all around me, looking for some type of help. And then I see it: a ladder. My ticket out of hell.
I jump off of the net and rush to the ladder. I struggle to pick it up, but I do, thanks to the adrenaline in my veins.
"Emily! Wait!"
"Em!"
"Emmie!"
They are following me, and they are right behind me in the hall. I gasp and set the ladder on the dirt walls. I start to climb, to climb as far as I can. It is only halfway up the pit, but I turn around on the top step and wonder if I can jump up to the top.
I do not stop to think of the consequences, and I jump. My hands grip the top of the pit as my body collides with the wall. It hits my nose, and blood begins to drip out of it, onto the ground below, back in hell.
I glance down, and I am suddenly filled with fear. My arms are too weak to pull myself up. I see the three of them down there—they are so far down there—and their faces are filled with concern.
"Emmie, it wasn't real." Drake's voice is faint, but I hear it loud and clear. His voice no longer comforts me. Instead it fills me with fear now. "Please…. Please come down."
I look down at him, still hanging onto the top of the pit by my fingernails. With a groan, I pull myself up and grasp at the dirt. I pull myself up, out of the pit, and I am free. I begin to run, to run as fast as I can, and I know where I am going. I am going back where I belong, back with Evelyn and the factionless. I hear their shouts behind me, and it only energizes me more. I run faster and harder each time I hear them and their evil voices.
How did I ever trust them? Those people… They are evil, just like the rest of the factions. I should have known better.
I run and run and run. I do not bother to get on the train. Instead I run beside the tracks, knowing where to go. I need to run. I need to get this energy out of my body; this fear out of my bloodstream. It is like a virus, like an infection. I need to purge myself of it, I need to do anything to possible to get it out of me.
I am hot, sweaty, and panting when I see the first signs of the factionless. Trash is on the ground and broken down buildings are around me. But then I see her: Evelyn.
I give my last bit of energy in a final sprint, before I collapse to my knees in front of her and she scoops me up in a hug without a word.
Right here… In Evelyn's arms, this must be where I belong. She is not my mother, but she is the closest thing to it. And I have heard that mothers are the only people in the world who can comfort you during your worst times of life. And I am finding that is true as I cry into her shoulder and she rubs my back.
"Shhh…"
I open my eyes and look up at her, tears stinging my cheeks. "I'm sorry," I whisper, broken.
She gives me a small smile, but it is strained, and I know she is angry. And I know why: I failed.
"John, dear… Take her away from me."
