We couldn't find Nick. He was supposed to be in the 'interrogation' room thirty minutes ago, but I guess he ditched his responsibilities. There is a reason why he is not turning up. Obviously, he has something to hide. I just can't believe it. Is it actually possible that Nick could have done this to me? Is he the rebel disguised in a soldier's uniform?

I think back to the times when we were together. He came into our apartment. He hugged me. Hugged me. If he was the one who picked out an apartment for Peter and me, he could have had a plan. Did he install cameras? So that he could have seen me when I was in the simulation? I shiver at the thought. I was so stupid.

"They hate me," Peter says, "They don't trust me anymore."

I roll my eyes at him as I swing my legs in the air. We are sat on the top of the table in the longest corridor I have ever seen. The air here is eerie, but it cannot compare to the depression Peter feels. Therefore, I don't mind.

"You told them the truth, Peter. Truth is always brutal." I try to comfort him but it doesn't work. I am growing tired of his winging. No matter what I tell him, his mood would not change. Why do I bother?

"Yeah, I told them that I tried to kill you," he says solidly, "I don't think they would appreciate keeping a murderer within the safe house with Tris fucking Prior." I am about to scold him for the expletive he added to my name but when I turn to look at him, he has his head in his hands with his fingers pulling at his hair.

"You're not a murderer, so…" I trail off, tearing my eyes away from his fragile state. He sighs with irritation, and I almost yell at him for doing so.

"You don't get it," he states, looking up at me. I see tears pool in his eyes from the corner of my peripheral vision, "You just don't get it, Tris."

Okay, if he says anything else, I will yell at him.

How dare he? We are all afraid. All of us are in danger of being killed. He is a coward. I knew it before but now it is clearer than ever. It shouldn't matter if people know him for his true self. I'm sorry but did I have a choice in confessing about Will's murder? I had no choice. It was the only thing that kept me alive (gaining Candor's trust). Even though Peter didn't actually kill anybody, he still has the nerve to show his weakness. After I have the mini-rant in my head, I look back at Peter.

He has wiped his eyes with the back of his hands and cleared his throat. It takes him a moment to compose himself again.

"Do you want to go home?" his voice is back to normal, but his eyes are still vulnerable.

"Yeah," I answer bluntly, hopping off the metal table. He does the same and then wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. I hug him, letting all my anger flush away from my body.

"I love you," he says. I realize that he has noticed my frustration and is deciding to make me soft again. I sigh before replying.

"I love you too." A small smile plays on my lips when he pulls away from me. I stare at him for a moment before his lips meet mine and we kiss slowly.

We walk towards the exit, waving at a soldier who is in charge of guarding the boarders of the safe house. Peter has composed himself (finally), but he keeps running a hand down his face from time to time when I glance at him. There is a scanner near the metal doors which let you out of the building. I lean forward and present my face to the red light. It trickles down my features before I hear a quiet beeping noise, freeing me from this place. The guard nods at me and I step aside to let Peter do the same thing. I watch as he copies my movements. He leans down, presents his face and stares at the tiny camera. The soft 'beep' I heard before changes dramatically and blares all around us for five seconds. Peter jumps back in shock and I do the same.

"It's alright, do it again," the guard reassures Peter. He obviously knows my boyfriend well enough. If they were strangers, he would have been dragged down to Al's office immediately.

Peter does the same thing, this time straightening his face and moving like a robot towards the camera. The harsh beep startles us again.

"Sorry, Peter," the guard mumbles, coming out of his shell and looking alert, "You'll have to come with me."

"What? Why? What's wrong with it?" Peter asks, glancing at me worriedly.

"I don't know, but you'll have to sort it out with Al," I step aside to let the guard through and take Peter's hand, looking up at his face. He looks weak again.

"I'll wait for you," I comfort, "Maybe it's just a glitch-"

"It's no glitch," he cuts me off, "They know how I treated you, and now that they know the truth, they will do everything to get rid of me." I close my eyes in frustration and open them to see his twinkling eyes.

"You're overreacting," I say, noticing his face twist in disgust, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself."

"I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I just worry about my fucking future. They will kill me, they will try to kill me-"

"Do you even hear what you're saying?!" I shout suddenly, noticing his eyes widen, "It's just a fucking glitch! Al has nothing against you!"

"Watch your fucking mouth, Tris," he says, and I feel anger flare up in me again.

"What did you just sa-"

"I said watch. Your. Mouth." He interrupts. He is trying to let anger overpower his weakness but it doesn't work. He won't scare me for a second. I know him too well. I don't know why, but I press on.

"Don't tell me what to do," I shrug my shoulder, leaning back on my foot as he towers over me. The guard who is waiting for Peter to follow him has probably shit himself. I feel sorry for him.

"You'll do what I fucking tell you to-"

"Oh, so now you're playing Derek?" I challenge, seeing the flames in his eyes being extinguished by waters. Is this how we are going to manage our stress? Yelling at each other? He furrows his eyebrows at me and steps away, sighing in what sounds like disgust.

"Find me when you're cooled off. I don't want to be around you right now," The anger management lessons have payed off. He would have yelled at me, but instead he chose the other option of keeping his distance. I watch him turn away and walk down the corridor with the guard. He walks steadily, showing no signs of distress. I, on the other hand, am showing plenty. I need some air. Can I still leave without him? I fight with my inner consciousness for a second before deciding against it. Leaving would only make things worse. I need to face my responsibilities like an adult.

I take a stroll towards the coffee room with my hands in my pockets. Unfortunately, I don't find Christina there, so I turn around and walk in the opposite direction. Just as well, I think. I need to be by myself for a while. The war evicts so many emotions from people. Sometimes, you're angry, sometimes you cannot stop laughing. I blame the human nature on the stress. It is the only logical thing to do.

My heart rate stabilizes itself after a few minutes. The redness flushes from my face and I sigh as I keep picturing Peter's face. He looked so hurt. His words 'I don't want to be around you right now' make me think of that time when Four and I nearly broke up. He has had enough of my sacrificial nature and wanted me to be Divergent. Not reckless.

I walk into the nearest room I find and shut the door behind me. There is nothing settling about the space I am in. All the walls were stripped of any decorative objects and the floor lacks carpets. There is an eerie breeze tickling my legs. I realize that a gap at the bottom of the wall quite clearly leads to the outside. Fresh air. That'll do I guess. I take a deep breath and then exhale, listening to owls hooting in the distance. Is it night time already?

I walk up to a desk in the room and lean forward against it. It is freezing to touch, but I find comfort in that. I look down at my hands. They are filthy. I can't find time to look after my nails, and I definitely do not have time to wash my hands over and over again. It seems to me that everything I touch around here, stains my hands. I want to smell them, but something tells me that sweet flowery scents won't be penetrating my nostrils.

Suddenly, I hear the door swing open behind me and spin around towards the source of the noise. Nick blocks the light which is trying to flood into the room. His silhouette is confident and strong. His face comes into view when he walks into the room, shutting the door behind him. I smile nervously and fold my arms, making myself look bigger. What is he doing here? As my eyes flicker all over his body, the question escapes my lips. He smirks at me and stops.

"Just wandering," his face is twisted, like a serial killer's. All of a sudden, I start feeling nervous. I lean against the wall and bite my lip.

"I think they are looking for you," I start, clearing my throat when my voice comes out shakily, "They are looking for the culprit who put me under a simulation." I observe his eyes for any signs of recognition.

"Oh, are they?" his voice is chilled. To my surprise, it relaxes me slightly.

"Yeah," I cough, glancing from my feet, to his face. He locks the door in one swift motion and I tense up. He might be the rebel. I don't know for sure if he was the one who put me under the simulation, but all evidence points to him. I wish I was equipped with a gun. "Why did you lock the door?"

"I don't want anyone to disturb us, Tris," he retrieves a needle from his pocket and taps it gently, pushing down with his thumb onto the plunger gently, "Come here."

I laugh nervously and shake my head. If he steps closer to me, I will attack him. His feet move slowly and cautiously towards me. I watch his eyes glue to my face. He is trying to figure out how I will react. I can tell.

"Unlock the door," I say. He shakes his head in response, coming closer to me. That is when I finally spring into action. As he raises his needle-occupied hand, I try to dodge his blow, thinking he will stick it into me. Another simulation? What is in it? For all I know, the liquid is purple. I groan when he hits my rib cage with a fist. I fall to the floor before jumping back up quickly.

"Come here, I won't try to hurt you if you co-operate," he purrs, staring me down. I grip my side with both of my hands as I start backing up. I underestimated his strength.

"I don't believe you," I gulp, watching him close the gap between our bodies slowly. Once he gets too close, I kick his ankle, hoping he would grab it with at least one hand but instead he groans loudly and lunges at my vulnerable body. In just a few seconds, I am trapped within his enormous arms, trying to squirm free. I can't let this happen. My instincts kick in and I try to punch him, or kick him or bite him. I don't want to forget again.

"Stay fucking still," he hisses into my ear. When all else fails, I scream. I scream at the top of my lungs.

"Peter!" My mouth shapes the vowels only for his name. This is not supposed to happen. I scream again, but I lose my voice as he stabs the needle into my neck. Everything starts to blur and my eyelids feel heavy.

"Shh, there you go, relax," his voice has a soothing impact. I moan as everything goes black. Is this supposed to be a simulating serum? Or just a tranquilizer?

I say we make 13 reviews until I upload the next chapter ;) Tell me what your thoughts are :P