I can hear her. Whoever she is, she's upset. Her soft tone is often sad. She will sometimes force laughter, or other times a cold hand will reach for mine hesitantly.
Lately, she doesn't talk at all. I feel her presence though. I feel her distress like I can claim it as my own. She's in pain.
I am too. I'm stuck in a body I can't control, in a body that won't follow my commands. I can't move my hands when I want to curl my fingers around the girl's. My eyes won't open no matter how hard I try.
I have no control over what happens to me.
I have no control over what happens to me.
"It's over," the girl says.
No, it can't be because I'm still alive inside of a dead corpse. I'm still here.
I'm trapped!
There are other people in the room. Machines beep and a man is talking.
"We did everything we could, Tris," he says apologetically.
"I can't do this."
I've had days to memorize the sound of her comings and goings. I can tell when it's her, or when it's someone else without needing to hear a word. And right now she's leaving. She's leaving me with strangers who want to hurt me.
Needles, straps designed to tie me down, scissors opening me up, and pills that made everything fuzzy and confusing, race through my mind.
Nothing bad happens when the girl is with me. The panic I feel when I'm awake is bearable when I know she's in the room. I'm safe with her. Things aren't quite as bad when we're together.
But she's gone. I'm alone and hands are touching me. They're going to hurt me. Soon there will be pain. Uncontrollable pain. The Woman will be back. She'll tell me things. She'll say I'm worthless, she'll say I deserve the pain.
Don't leave me! I scream in my head.
Come back. I don't know what you look like. I don't know your name, but none of that means anything because you make my nightmares go away, you protect me from my fears.
No, not again. Not again. I've had enough.
No, please. Please.
"No!"
Gasping for air, my eyes fly open.
There's silence and then a flurry of movement that I pay no attention to.
I'm not strapped down, but I can't find the energy to sit up. I look around the room, searching for the girl. None of the people are right.
A man I don't recognize steps into my line of vision. "Eric! I don't believe it," he says.
He starts to reach for my wrist when I strike. Pulling him down is easy. I use him as leverage to lift myself up, twisting my arm around his neck, much to the alarm of the others in the room.
"I don't know who Eric is," I say, voice raspy from lack of use. "And I don't know any of you."
Squeezing experimentally, I watch their scared faces turn as white as the sheets on my bed. This man is important to them. I can use him to get what I want.
"I want to see the girl," I rasp.
"Who?" the man in my grip asks weakly.
"The girl!" I yell.
I don't know her name. Fear and frustration take turns flooding my mind. I need to see the girl. She'll make things safe again.
"Tris, he means Tris," the man says. "Matthew, go get Tris!"
A young man races from the room, the door slamming closed behind him. I continue to hold onto the slim, scared little man, feeling his pulse flutter nervously under my arm.
Tris' POV
The first thing I do when I walk out is run outside. I make it to the gate before my knees give out. I fall to the ground, my torso leaning into my bent legs. The screams fly from my mouth. I scream and I yell until my vocal cords give out and all that's left of me is a sore throat and silent tears.
My body rocks back and forth. My head is filled with what I've just lost. He's gone. It's over; he's gone.
"Tris," Matthew calls from several yards away.
I ignore him. I attempt to calm myself, but the harder I try, the worse it gets. The tears just won't stop.
"Tris, he's alive."
Freezing, I replay that sentence over and over in my head. He's alive. Alive.
I whip my head around to face him. "What?"
Matthew's face is grim. "He's awake."
I quickly push myself to my feet. "Awake."
He nods, face serious. "You need to get back. He's threatening David."
Striding to him, I ask, "What happened?"
"I don't know. We were removing the IV, then his eyes opened," he says, leading me back inside, down the hall to where the hospital's located.
He's awake.
With that thought, I race ahead of Matthew. "Eric!" I yell, running down the multiple hallways, making it to the door, panting.
Eric's sitting up on the bed, arms wrapped tightly around David's neck. I don't really think about why he's threatening David.
Grabbing hold of the edge of the door to keep myself standing, I stare into the eyes of the man I thought I'd lost forever. My free hand slaps over my mouth.
He's looking back at me, relief flooding his own eyes. Walking forward, I say, "I thought I'd lost you."
His grasp on David loosens. "What's your name?" he asks, his frightened eyes locked on me.
I stop dead in my tracks.