I do not own anything, just my ideas.

Chapter 50

TRIS

My mother always told me that dreams could come true, but she forgot to mention that nightmares are dreams, too. Many mornings I would drag myself out of nightmares and find there was no relief in waking. I keep closing my eyes tight and opening them, hoping I can wake from my current horror, but it is hard to wake from a nightmare when you are not even asleep.

No matter what happens I will find a way to come back to you… I promise I will come back to you.

I hear my promise to Tobias over and over in my head. It is repetitive and tedious, but it is the only sane thing I can currently hold onto.

I cannot remember the moment when everything went wrong, but I do realize how deep I am in. The others did not argue when I screamed, and the car pulled over in seconds. There were moments of panic before I recognized the building to our right. It stands tall, with many windows and one of the major hospital from downtown's logo on it. It is a research building that Caleb is interning at this summer.

"We have to go inside!" I yell through the wind.

The others do not protest, but they are not happy. The car's events are still burning.

We run into the building like several others from the street. There is chaos in the lobby, with hundreds of people trying to evacuate to the basement. The higher arced ceiling just sends the sounds into dozens of bounced echoes, giving the illusion that the room is louder and crazier than it is.

I have to focus. How am I going to get out of this mess? If I stay among the crowd, David can't do anything to me with the threat of witnesses. I could slip away from his grasp, putting a large distance between us. But I can't do that. What is there that would stop David from coming after me or the people I care about? This could be my only shot with him alone to end this. After this, my window will close and all will be lost. I can't run. I have to stay and finish what I started.

First things first, I have to get David alone and away from the others. I will need something with me as a back-up. I look around. There is a police officer trying to direct the people. He has a gun, but… I can't handle a gun, especially after what happened with Al. I reach into my purse and feel for the can of pepper spray. It will have to do. There is a pocket knife attached along a chain to the pepper spray. I feel the knife burn next to me, but I ignore the feeling that has dulled some in the past almost three years. I dis-attach the knife and put it into my pocket and put the pepper spray in my bag.

I begin to search for David when I hear a familiar voice yell, "Tris!"

The owner of the voice has light brown hair and observant, green eyes. Caleb.

"Tris, what are you doing here?"

"I don't have much time to talk."

"Yeah, we have to get to the basement. What are you doing here? I didn't think you'd be coming over here today." He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. We have to go downstairs. There's a tornado—"

"Caleb, listen to me. I can't go with you."

"What are you talking about?"

"I have something I need to take care of."

He pulls me along the crowd. I feel a familiar pull dragging me along with it. When we have reached the next floor, I pull away. He looks at me with concern.

"What are you not telling me?"

I cannot tell him. How could I make him understand that I have started down a path I cannot turn back from? There is nothing he can do, anyway. This is my fight, as if there was a good enough reason for him to take my place in this.

All I tell him is, "Mom."

He internalizes the word, and I feel like he has an idea of what is happening.

"I am not letting you do it alone."

"You don't have a say."

"Let me do this thing for you. Let me help make things right."

"Right for who?"

Even amongst the bustle around us, there is a pause. "…I can't live with anymore guilt."

Deep down, I know his motives are selfish. He does not want to help me, only himself. He can't stand the discomfort that I bring him. I know he senses my reaction, because he adds, "I don't want to see you hurt anymore. I can't let someone hurt you." Since when? What has changed?

Someone bumps Caleb in the side, distracting him for a moment. In that moment, I glance to the side and make eye contact with David. He tries to stay unnoticed, but his eyes scream in fury. Or is that what mine reflect? I can't tell anymore. The adrenaline runs through my veins.

"I do not know what you are doing, Tris, but I can already tell you…" His voice trails away.

"What, Caleb? I can handle it."

"It's not that you can't handle this. It is that you shouldn't have to."

I feel frustrated. Tears are pointless, and they will deflate the running energy inside me. "Everyone has a choice, and this is mine. I won't let you sacrifice yourself for my sake. You will always be my brother, and my… our mother wouldn't want us to hate each other. So don't let me hate you, and I won't act like I do not love you."

"Don't…"

"And Tobias…" My voice catches in the back of my throat. If things go bad, this could be my last words to him. "Tell him… Tell him that I love him."

Just like that, I disappear into the crowd. I feel Caleb reach out towards me, but I don't know what he does exactly. It looks like I fall into David's trap, and maybe that is true. I fumble with my phone in my purse. I fumble for the voice recording of my phone and begin a new one. The lines on the screen imply it is recording. Instead of follow the other people to the basement, we go into an empty side room. At first, I think we are alone, but I someone lingers behind us, gripping his hand around my arm when he enters the room.

"Where are the others?" Matthew asks David.

"This does not concern those pin heads. I should not let you stay, considering this mess is your fault."

Even though the remark came from David, Matthew's anger makes his grip harder. Maybe it is geared towards me.

There a silent stand still. Each person does not dare to make the first move with the threat of dominos falling and not stopping. Without words, David grabs two chairs from the side and places them facing each other. Matthew tries to shove me towards them, but I feel the self-defense I learned many months ago. I shove an elbow into Matthew's stomach and try to pin him by his back. He reaches for his bag that is on the ground and pulls out a gun. He points it at me.

I freeze.

My breath catches, and I pray they do not see that.

He shoves me into one of the chairs and wraps duct tape around me. David takes a seat across from me.

"Got this off of one of the guards," Matthew says as he steps back after tying me.

David gives him an almost annoyed look, but immediately brings his attention back to me. "How?"

"My mom. She was too bright of a star to completely burn out."

David does not reply to that. He rubs his forehead, right in between his eyes.

Matthew speaks up, "Now is our only chance, at least to make it look like an accident."

"Are you going to kill me?" I ask even though I know the answer. "You are going to kill me. You might as well tell me what really happened, then."

"I told her how to save herself. I gave her a chance to take her… loved ones away. To stay safe. And the stupid woman… she didn't listen! She wouldn't listen. She got herself killed for, for—"

David jumps up and throws his chair backwards. He paces some. I feel my own anger building.

"She wasn't stupid. She knew right from wrong, unlike you. She understood what love really meant."

He quiets down. "She had no idea."

"Did you love her?"

David goes to grab his chair without replying. It would make sense. The way he went out of his way for her. The anger and emotions he feels from her death, after he is responsible for dozen others. He puts his chair back in front of me, sits, and looks me in the eye.

"Yes, I did. But that time has passed."

"No it hasn't. If you really love someone, you do not stop. You either loved them and still do, or you never did. And you don't kill them for your own selfish, personal gain." I think of my parents, of what my father told me that late evening in the kitchen at home. It takes more than death to stop loving someone. "You—you don't know real loss, because it only occurs when you have loved something more than yourself. And I doubt you have ever dared to love anybody that much."

"Stop it! Stop doing that. Looking and acting and talking and being her. You are going to end up just like her because you both do not know when to stop."

"So you did kill her." When he doesn't respond, I add, "You owe me at least this."

I need him to say it out loud for the recording. If something does happen to me, I do not want it to be for nothing. I want the proof available for the world to know. I have to make him say. I have to make him crack.

"You destroyed our family. My mother was the closest thing I knew to love until it was ripped away. You are a stain. I horrible stain on our lives. Do have any idea what it is like to grow up without a mother? To never have that nurturing hand to guide you. She was a better person than any of us combined. You broke me when I didn't know what broken was. And the worst part is that you do not understand what a horrible thing you have done. Of all the horrible things you have done." Tears stream down my face, tears that are not hard to strain for. But I continue.

"I was raped. A part of my soul ripped away, and there was no one, no mother, to help me. And that is your fault! You started it, and—was it worth it? Will it ever be worth it? Your selfishness and greed has sent horrific ripples in more lives beyond mine."

"Enough! I did it. I had her killed, alright?"

"And all the others?"

"Yes. I had all of them killed. I have embezzled money, dirty money… Your mother was the only good in my life, and I destroyed that."

That's it! The proof I need; and it's sitting in my phone. I should feel something more, at least, I thought this would be different. But the threat still lingers. Actually, it stares me down in between my eyes. I try to get the knife that sits in my pocket, but I have to be careful.

"We've all done bad things, but that doesn't make us bad people," David says as if trying to convince me. It feels like he has thought about it a lot—even said it before.

"But we have all done good things, and that does not make us good people," I say.

I think back to all the bad and good things I have done. I consider myself a good person. At least, a decent person. But I am the girl who punched her brother in face just because she was angry. I did not think twice when I brought blood to his nose. Yet I am also the girl who saved a classroom full of classmates from a shooter. The line blurs. In fact, I feel like there is no line at all. It feels more like a scale, balancing and shifting from one side to the other when different things are added to each end. Balance is ideal, but every second the weight shifts. No one is wholly one thing or the other.

The walls shake some, the power of the winds wrapping around the building above us. I see Matthew out of the corner of my eye.

"What does Matthew have to do with all of this?"

"That is—"

"David!" Matthew yells. "You have already said too much. What the hell are you doing?"

"The same thing you did two years ago. If you would prefer it, you can leave."

For some reason, it feels like a low blow. Matthew retreats. He reaches his hand into his pocket, and keeps it there. His fingers fumble with something, and he pulls it out. In between his fingers, he plays with a short green thread.

"What happened two years ago?"

"It is none of your concern." Matthew exclaims, shoving the green string back into his pocket. "What are we going to do with her?"

"Same as the others. We can't let up."

"Just like my mom?" But there is no answer. Neither of them speak to me, but they go to the corner. I glance at my bag. Everything in need is in there, now I just have to get out of here with it.

I keep hearing my promise: I will come back to you.

I have been doing a pretty lousy job so far. I kept digging deeper and deeper without realizing I was going down, and my chances of getting out are now shrinking smaller as the hole gets bigger. I don't want to leave them, all the people from Chicago. I want to survive, but I am afraid to live. How can I guarantee that I will not get hurt again? Sure, things may seem like they are going fine, but then I go and find trouble or trouble finds me. It is a constant loop that seems to never end. I do not understand the point of gaining something worth loving with the threat of losing it. I feel like I have been living in a delusion and this right here is real life.

Matthew and David's conversation must be heating up, because they are beginning to shout.

"No," Matthew says. "He doesn't need to come. There is a tornado outside; he can't come, anyway."

"I paged him while we were in the car."

"He will never let me live it down, him cleaning my mess. Just because he took out the mom doesn't mean he has to do her too."

My eyes pop up. "Who are you talking about?"

They don't respond, so I say it again with more emphasis. They don't respond again, so I go with my gut. "North. It was Mr. North, wasn't it? Wasn't it?!"

I turn my head towards Matthew. "That's how you got caught up with all this. Mr. North is your father."

"Fuck no. Try uncle, you imbecile." I ignore the name-calling. So Matthew is Mr. North's nephew. And Mr. North…

I say quietly, "He killed her, didn't he?"

"And apparently, he's on his way."

My heartrate picks up, but I have gotten the knife out of my pocket. I try to cut off the tape around my hands, but tentatively enough to go unnoticed. When if have them cut far enough to just rip my hands apart to break the bond, I stop. I grip the knife firmly in my right hand.

David comes up to me. He bends down to look me in the eye.

"It doesn't have to be like this. You can choose, just like I offered your mom. I really am sorry for what happened."

"You're not sorry. You can never understand the ripples of your choices. There are a lot of things that make me strong, and my mom is one of them. I will not use that strength against her. Because unlike you, we know the meaning of sacrifice."

"You're really ready to say goodbye?"

"Yes… to you."

I break my arms from my restraints and stab David in the leg with my pocket knife. I still grip it when I leap towards my bag. All I have to do is grab it and run out.

"Stop!" Matthew yells, pointing the gun.

For a moment, I freeze, completely drained. I feel the knife in my hand, and I feel like I am sucked right back into a memory.

"Thanks, for helping me out. You don't know the significance of what happened down there." He doesn't. He doesn't know what a knife has done to me, and learning how to use it to defend myself feels almost impossible. But I did it.

"You're welcome, but what do you mean? Does it have something to do with the knives?"

"Kind of... Let's just say I sort of conquered a fear, and it wouldn't have happened without you. So thank you, I mean it."

"I don't mind, I had a good time. And if it means anything, I wouldn't want to mess with you anytime soon; with your aim and boxing skills, you are more badass than you think."

"I'm glad, that's kind of what I want."

The memory feels so long ago, it is like it didn't happen to me. That day when Tobias, who was Four back then, started teaching me how to shoot a gun and throw knives.

I know if I move, Matthew will shoot me, so I'll have to dodge it. I do everything he taught me, even the stuff that was unspoken, and tell my arm to lift and throw. I almost side-arm it and try to jump out of where I was towards my bag and the door.

There is a loud pop and I feel its impact.

Matthew yells out, but I don't turn back to see where I hit him. Instead, I reach down for my bag and try to run. There are sharp pains with each moment, but I have to get out. I reach the door, but someone grabs me. More sharp pains.

David tries to pull at me with one arm while the other holds his leg. I grab the pepper spray from my bag and spray him in the face. He releases and I rush out of the room. I have to try harder to focus on what's around me.

I take steps, but I do not know where they lead me. All that registers is that I have to create as much distance as I can. Paranoia sets in, and I grab the nearest person.

She is a middle-aged women, I think. Her eyes go wide when she sees my wound. I rasp out, "My phone… Make sure someone, someone gets it. My phone! It's important. My mom…"

I slowly slip. The adrenaline falls in my body. I think I collapse on her, but I do know my weight has become too much for me to handle.

I feel a familiar, cool grip wrap around me as my eyes close and the world becomes black.


I feel like I am dreaming. At least, it feels like a dream. The darkness shapes into something that I know cannot be real. It can't be.

My mother trails near me. Her hair is down, lines of stress and sadness do not reside on her. She is her most beautiful self.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Beatrice?"

"Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me. I am so proud of you."

"Am I done?"

"Oh, my dear, not yet."

"But I have missed you so much."

"I know, but you have so much left to go. You will continue on this path and follow it where it takes you. And when you are ready to take that final step, I will be there. Because I am always with you. So run, walk, and jump. Take a leap of faith."

"But, mom, what if I fall?"

"But my darling, what if you fly? I have a feeling you would love to fly… To fly like a bird."


I tenderly rub my collar bone. It is not completely healed, but I keep touching it to acknowledge that it is there. This newer bandage is on the left side of my chest, right next to my heart. My doctor was not happy when I asked to have it done, but I convinced Tori to let Caleb take me. The larger bandage wraps around my shoulders. The bullet went into my right shoulder in the front, right above where Peter cut me.

It is cool for a summer evening. The sun still lingers in the sky as the time ticks away. I look down at the grave laying before me.

Natalie Prior

"Hello, mom… I did it. I did it for you." Tears fall in a delegate way. "They are all in jail, David, the North's, and everyone who was a part of it. It was not easy, but you were with me the whole time, I know that."

I unwrap one of the bandages on my chest. Still showing under my bullet wounds bandage, three inked birds fly to my heart.

"I got them, one for you, Caleb, and dad… I have a feeling I will be adding a fourth one for… But I am a little scared. It's because I lost you, and when you lose someone, it stays with you, always reminding you of how easy it is to get hurt. I know Tobias is different, but I just, need to know it's possible that two people can stay happy together forever… But, I want to fly, and maybe you know what I am talking about."

A shadow forms long on the ground in front of me. It is bigger than mine, and it belongs to a boy. I notice the style of his hair and the way he holds his hands in his pockets. I turn to see Caleb not looking at me, but our mother.

"She would be proud of you." I know she is.

"Are you?"

"Yes. I am. I cannot believe you did what you did. I—I wish I could understand what it is like… or how you can just…" He stutters on words that refuse to find meaning. They make sense in his head, and I guess that is what matters. He knows what he wants, and maybe he can have it one day.

"Why do the best people die?" He asks after a little while.

I look at him and at our mother's grave. I look at the other graves next to her. They all have beautiful words on them, representing the best of people lying cold under the ground. "Because when you are in a garden, you pick the most beautiful flowers."

Neither Caleb nor I are perfect. By a long shot. No one is perfect; we can try all we want, but it just won't happen. We simply have to try to be our best selves and hope that is good enough. You can think all you want, but a person's character is based on their actions.

"You know you always have a place here."

"I don't belong here, Caleb. This isn't my home anymore. It hasn't been for a while. This place does not belong to me, and I don't belong to it. Or the people in it."

It is not a direct blow, but it is a hit towards him.

"I don't blame you." His answer surprises me.

"This place will always have a place in my heart, but…"

"Not anymore. I know what you mean. When I went to college, this place felt more distant. There will always be the memories, but I have grown and expanded to a different place."

We face each other now. I reach out and hug him—tight. When we pull away, I say, "I wish you the best, Caleb. I really do. Maybe one day we can return to that brother and sister on the beach."

"Me, too. I look forward to that day." He reaches out his hand. "I love you."

I take it and we shake. "I love you, too."

Someday we might find what we are looking for. Or maybe we won't. Maybe we will find something better. But for now, my path leads me away from this place.

I promise I will come back to you. And I am.

I am going home.


Author's Note

I am so sorry for this delayed update. I held off writing, hoping that my flash drive would show up and I would not have needed to start completely over. But, sadly, it did not show up, and I had to rewrite this chapter when it was almost complete. I feel like the original was better written, but we have to work with what we have. I will say that one of my [new] favorite lines from the story is in this chapter. Please review!

Be brave, everyone!


QUOTES

1).[You will] understand why storms are named after people. -Caitlyn Siehl, person

2). [Tears] say all there is to say. The first scars never fade away –"The End Where I Begin", song

3). It's gonna hurt. It's gonna hurt because it matters. –John Green, person

4). When did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat?Invisible Monsters, novel

Congratulations to: TheaWrites and dolly123

There are 8 (person, book, person, book, person, film, TV show) quotes in this chapter. Happy Hunting! (Because there are a lot!)