But it's not enough. I repeat it over and over in my head:

You're doing this to save his life.

And, yes, when put to the choice, I'd rather live without him in my life than to watch him die.

But I am selfish. Love does that to a person, or at least it's done it to me. I want Dante in my life, I want to be near him, I want to feel him wrap his arms around me, I want to see the fire in his eyes when he looks at me, I want to hear the rhythm of his breathing as we sit together in one of our comfortable silences. I want…

But now, right now…

Somehow I must make it through the rest of my day. I finally turn off the water in the shower when I realize that it's gone ice cold. I strip down and wring out my clothes as best I can; I put them back on (still damp) and slog down the hall to the dorms. All of my fellow transfers are there, sitting in a group on the floor, talking in nervous or excited voices about the imminent Stage Two. I walk past them, ignoring their greetings. Eyes follow me, but I don't care. I strip down again, right in front of everyone- I really do not care- and put on dry clothes.

It's Joseph and Nicole who approach me first.

"Rain," Nicole says gently as she reaches for my shoulder, "you look awful. Is everything all right?"

I shake my head. I feel tears coming again.

"What happened?" Nicole's voice rises in pitch slightly. "Is it…"

"Don't say his name," I cut her off, my voice coming out an angry growl. She recoils with a gasp, and suddenly the entire room goes completely silent. I glare into each wide-eyed face, tears brimming in the corners of my eyes.

"Just… I don't even want to hear about him. I don't want to talk about him. If you want to know what happened, you can ask him tomorrow when Stage Two starts. That's all I'm saying on the subject." Each of my words is clipped and terse. I have never spoken like this to anyone, much less to a roomful of people.

One by one, their eyes turn away from mine and to each other's. To call the silence that follows awkward would be a gross understatement. The tension in the air is like a living thing; an exposed electrical wire, sparking and sizzling.

Nate is the first to rise, and he beckons to Nicole and Joseph, who follow him out the door into the hallway beyond. Nate holds the door for them as I watch from the perch on the edge of my bed. I see him glance back and give his head the smallest shake as he releases the door and lets it swing shut, leaving me to wallow in my misery.

I didn't really want them to leave. I didn't think I wanted to be alone, but when they're gone I feel some of the weight lift from my shoulders. I wish I could say that I felt better about it, but I actually feel worse. I have not only deceived Dante into believing that I think he's weak and a burden to me. I have also lied to my friends who have gone out of their way to be nothing but kind and selfless to me over the last few days. But at least they left, so I don't have to keep up the charade for long.

I am starting to hate myself. I don't know how I will get through the next few weeks of this, if every day is going to be like today. I don't know how I'm going to live with myself if Dante can't forgive me after all is said and done.

Or if this doesn't work, and he dies.

Or if he's not strong enough for the simulations, and he dies.

I throw myself face down on my bed. I want to cry again, but the tears won't come. It's as though my shower washed them all away, but left the grief and guilt behind, consuming my heart. I want to sleep but I know if I do that now, I'll be awake most of the night in agony. Not that that's not likely to be the case, anyway.

I lie there for I don't even know how long before my stomach rumbles; a sure sign that dinner will soon be served out in the Pit. I get up slowly because my body feels like it weighs about twice as much as usual. My hair is still damp, and as a result so is the collar of my shirt. I pick at it a little, trying to move the air through it to get it to dry. I comb back my hair and twist it into a braid, checking my reflection in the mirror inside a cabinet near the door. My eyes have dark circles under them and I'm wearing a very unattractive scowl. I have braided my hair a little too tightly, pulling it back hard from my scalp and eliminating any trace of its waviness. I look thoroughly unapproachable. Lovely.

It's a good thing that my feet know the way to the Pit because my mind is doing anything but focusing on getting there. As predicted, the dinner scene is mayhem- all noise and activity. I have arrived just as the food is being delivered to the tables and people are jockeying for seats. I start heading in the direction of my usual table with the other initiates, just sort of moving on autopilot. My eyes focus on my surroundings when I'm about fifteen feet from it, and I stop dead.

Sitting at the table across from Nate, in my usual seat, is Dante. He is dressed in black warm-ups that look exactly like the ones he used to wear during our private training sessions, but I note immediately that there is something different about him tonight. I take a few steps back, slowly, so I don't draw attention to myself. I catch glimpses of him through the throng of people moving back and forth between the tables.

His posture is all wrong: he usually sits very straight, with only his head bowed slightly as he avoids eye contact. Tonight his shoulders are hunched and his back is rounded. I am standing slightly behind him so I can't see his face, but I do see the other thing that is very drastically different: he has cut his hair. Not a lot, but enough. It used to reach well past the middle of his back when pulled back in its usual ponytail, which is how he's wearing it tonight, but now it ends at the middle of his shoulder blades. I remember how gorgeous it looked just a few hours ago, fanned out in a slightly tangled halo around his head as he lay with his eyes closed in his bed in the infirmary. I wonder if they have let him return to the dorms until I spot the nurse hovering nearby, keeping a watchful eye on Dante. I assume then that he'll be reintroduced to normal Dauntless activities slowly over the next few days, starting with meals.

I find myself at a quandary as far as what to do during mealtime. By now I'm sure that word of our split has become public knowledge within the initiates' circle, so I'm not exactly eager to just go sit down with the rest of them and act like nothing's wrong. On the other hand, I don't want to look like a coward who's running from the situation.

Relief comes in the form of Four's voice from behind me. He calls my name in a low voice, and I turn to see him standing near the table where he usually sits with his friend, Zeke. Four is not looking at me when I turn; he is looking at Dante. A few seconds later, his gaze shifts to me, questioning. I nod, and he beckons me over. I walk mechanically toward his table. Sitting with Four may end up being just as awkward as sitting with the other initiates: I'd be in full view of not only all of the initiates, but also of Eric and Max and the other Dauntless leaders at the front table.

"You all right?" Four asks me when I reach him.

"As 'all right' as I can be, considering," I reply. He nods.

"You did the right thing. Trust me. You'll both be better off for it in the end, you'll see," he tries to reassure me. I just look at the ground and nod.

"Look, I know it must be hard. I'm not going to make you go sit with them tonight, but you will want to eat to keep your strength up for tomorrow," he says, bending his head down toward me so no one else can hear him. "Do you know where the double doors are to the kitchens?"

I nod.

"Good. Go to the second door and stick your head in. A big guy will yell at you to leave; that's Anthony," Four nods to me in reassurance. "Tell him I told you to come and get some dinner. He's a good guy, even though he looks intimidating. He'll get you something. You can go eat somewhere else tonight, if that'll make you feel better."

"Okay, thanks. Yeah, that'll help," I say, and start toward the kitchens. I take two steps and turn back. Four is taking a seat next to Zeke, acting like everything is normal and life is peachy. He would have failed miserably in Candor, too.

Anthony, a huge guy with more tattoos than bare skin, provides me with a healthy serving of mashed potatoes, corn, and some kind of dish made with ground beef, onions, and tomato sauce. He yells at first, just as Four said he would, but when he hands me my meal in a covered container, he pats me on the shoulder and smiles, telling me (in a quieter voice) to drop off the plate anytime after dinner. I thank him and head for the staircase.

I end up eating my dinner sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the net, watching the light fade from the sky through the hole above. I can't help but think back to the night of Visiting Day, when Dante and I lay in the net looking up at the stars. I remember how comfortable I'd felt with him that night: just being near each other, not talking much, looking up at the stars and enjoying everything about each moment we were together. What I wouldn't give to have that night back.

The food is hot, it tastes good, and it's very filling. I start to feel a little more optimistic after I eat it. I still feel awful about my deception, and I'm still afraid that things won't work out in the end, but I am starting to accept that what I've done now can't be undone, and I do have other things that I will need to focus on very soon. Maybe it's time that I started doing that.

I return the plate to Anthony when I'm done eating, giving him my thanks and compliments on a delicious meal. Not wanting to go back to the dorms just yet, I start wandering up and down randomly selected corridors and walkways along the Pit. I eventually find myself at the tattoo parlor, which, in a rare moment, is not insanely busy. There is only one person there actually getting a tattoo; the other two artists are sitting on one of the couches engaged in light conversation, apparently just waiting for work. I feel their eyes on me as I walk along the walls, looking at the artwork on offer.

The image of the horse catches my eye. It's a smaller piece, tucked into a high corner where not many would notice it. But as soon as I see it, I think it's magnificent: the arched neck, the powerful legs, the flowing mane and tail: I remember the power of the two massive animals that pulled our plow late one spring, perhaps in another life. I remember how free I felt, riding atop that plow, and how brave I'd felt when I patted those horses, whose heads were about the size of my torso now.

I remember why I chose Dauntless.

Tomorrow, I vow, I will pull myself back up. I will eat my meals with the other initiates, despite Dante's presence. I will put everything I have into doing the best I can during Stage Two, and spend as much of my free time as I can in the training rooms keeping myself fit and sharp.

The tattoo costs only one point, seeing as it's a smaller one. A few hours later, the inked image of that horse is galloping down the inside of my forearm and I decide that it's time to head back to my dorm. It's not terribly late, but I want to give myself as much of a chance to sleep as possible before commencing with Stage Two in the morning. I find that I am not alone in this when I reach the dorms; everyone else is already in bed. The light above the door indicates that it's not yet curfew, but I stick to my plan and climb into my bed. The tattoo still stings and I'm anxious about tomorrow, which I know does not make a good mix when trying to fall asleep. But somehow I do- just as my mind turns to Dante, wondering if he will be able to sleep tonight.

I dream that we are back on the net, looking up at a star-filled night sky. But instead of lying beside each other as we did before, in my dream we are wrapped around each other, legs and arms tangled together in a comfortable jumble. We don't talk; we just look up at the stars. And even though it is a dream, I am acutely aware of each place where our bodies touch: the warm solidity of Dante's body against mine a familiarity that even my subconscious recognizes.

I am his, and I always will be, no matter what the future brings.