Warning: This chapter contains self-harm and discussion of suicide.

TRIS POV

Something pokes me in the side.

"Tris?"

I lift my head off the table and blink at the lights of the dining hall. I must have fallen asleep, or gotten close. Uriah continues to prod me in the side, and I slap his hand away.

"Looks like someone didn't sleep enough last night," Christina says.

Yes, I was busy breaking into your birth faction. I chalk it up to, "Nightmares." It is the second stage of initiation, after all.

Nobody bothers me after that. The rest of our breakfast time is spent with the boys cracking jokes and Christina describing her plan of how she is going to get all dressed up and talk to Bryce tonight. Dez is uncharacteristically silent, but I don't mention it to her, too exhausted to even form comprehensive thoughts.

"Come on, we should get going," Uriah suggests. "Don't want Four to take his wrath out on us when we're late for patrolling."

So we all stand up, though the clock on the wall tells me that we still have some time before we have to be armed and at the tracks. As we file out the cafeteria doors, Justin catches my arm and leads me back to him as the group goes on ahead. Oh God, I don't want to deal with him right now.

"Hey," he says with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "I'm just tired."

He nods and wraps an arm around my shoulders, similar to how Tobias did last night, but the weight is lighter. "You're still in first, right?" he asks, making small talk. I suppose this isn't so bad. This is innocent and friendly, aside from the arm around me. I really only let my closest friends do that, like Uriah.

"Yes. Are you still in third?"

He shakes his head. "I doubt it. I mean, last time I checked I was, but that was in the first stage. I'm not so sure that I am good at the simulations."

"I doubt that," I reassure him. "Besides, all of our ranks will go down for this stage anyway. We're combining with the Dauntless-born."

"That's true."

We walk on in silence for a moment until he leads me to a hall where there is no traffic, effectively detaching ourselves from our friends. Justin stops and leans against the wall, so I do the same but put some space between us.

"You're honestly amazing though," he shakes his head and slides closer. Oh boy, here we go. I bite my cheek and force myself to look at him. "I bet you'll come in first again either way."

I shrug noncommittally. "I don't know." I want to add that is not a big deal to me if I do or I don't, but for the rest of the initiates, the top rank is a big deal.

"Don't do that," he says, lifting my chin up with his finger. "Don't put yourself down. You're so brave that you could do anything." He pauses and caresses my cheek, and I desperately want to push him away. But the last time I was insensitive about another boy's feelings, he turned on me, tried to throw me into the chasm, and then threw himself into the chasm when I wouldn't forgive him. I don't think Justin would react that way, but then again, I didn't think Al would, either.

"We've all heard about the things you did in the war, you know. You stopped the simulation, you turned yourself into Erudite to spare everyone else. You saved so many lives, and you must be so proud." His green eyes scan me with amazement, and when he is this close, I see freckles on his nose. He is handsome...

I cringe. "I'm not proud of anything I did—"

He cuts me off, "Come on, Tris. Take a compliment for once, will you?" Before I can reply, he presses his lips to mine.

Frozen in place and just a tiny bit curious, I don't retreat. I have only kissed one person in my life, so I am not sure what it is supposed to feel like with someone else. Justin's lips are warm and soft like Tobias's, but they are infinitely different from Tobias's. Because he is not him.

That is when I pull back with a hand on his chest. "Justin," I mutter. "This isn't going to work."

"Oh." He leans back with hurt in his eyes. "Why not?"

"Because," I start. "Because we're friends, and I don't feel that way about you. Because I think you like the idea of me and the stories of my 'heroism', when you don't really know me. Because..." And I finally admit it to myself, and aloud. "You're not him."

The man I loved is not like anybody else. He is the only thing I am used to, and everything else feels wrong. It is not because he is the only familiar thing I know, but because even this kiss just now felt like disloyalty. Nobody could replace Tobias, or his role in my life.

I am his, and he is mine, and it has been that way all along.

"I'm not Tobias Eaton," Justin scowls. "I'm not our instructor. You know what the difference between me and him is? I actually like you. You said it yourself that he doesn't, and he doesn't treat you like it."

I close my eyes. "Justin, he and I have always had problems, a lot of them coming from my end too. And that is what I mean by not knowing me; you don't know the horrible acts I have committed, you don't know how disagreeable a person I am, you don't know the dark parts of me that I don't reveal," I try to explain. "You have an incredible image of me that I would never live up to. Even if I didn't still have feelings for him, I would give you the same answer."

My clarification has erased most of the pain of rejection from his expression. He runs a hand through his light hair and sighs understandingly.

"I guess I get it..." he says. "I'm just embarrassed now—"

I cut him off. "Don't be. We don't ever have to bring this up again, and we can just be friends like usual. Okay?"

With a slight smile, he pulls me into a hug, and I let out a breath of relief at the fact that I seem to have handled this situation correctly. "Okay. Friends."


All around me is pure darkness.

I feel around for something that can guide me through it, or maybe a light, but I am engulfed in empty space.

"Hello?" I call out, hoping for some assistance. Nobody responds.

Taking a step forward, I notice that my movements are restricted. Something is attached to my ankles and yanks at me when I try to walk further. Before I have time to contemplate the disturbing fact that I can only take one step in each direction, the screaming starts.

First, it is Caleb. The last family member I have left.

"Beatrice!" he screams from nowhere. It echoes around me and swallows me whole.

"Caleb," I gasp, struggling against my restraints. He sounds like he is in pain. I have to help him.

Then, another voice joins him. Christina.

"Tris, help me!" she cries out.

I start panicking. Not my best friend.

And then Uriah adds to the chorus of agonized voices. And Dez. I barely catch the sound of Zeke's screams before they all overlap each other as more chime in.

"Stop!" I shout, covering my ears. My breaths come in short gasps as I try to block out the terrorizing sounds.

But the worst part is when it all ceases, just like I commanded, and the silence is replaced by the one person whose pain is directly mine.

"Tris!" Tobias screams from the void.

"No," I whimper, sinking to my knees. "No, no."

He pleads for help, and I plug my ears because if I listen, I will break. His screams soon morph into cries.

I have only seen Tobias cry once—which makes this circumstance where I can't see him worse because his face is up to my imagination. It was when I woke him up from the simulation that controlled him, when he almost killed me. Something about his sobs is heart-wrenching; maybe because he is so strong and is always supposed to be in my eyes. He is supposed to be unbreakable. But he isn't, and that scares me more than this whole sim.

"Tris," he cries out again. "It hurts."

Sim. Of course this is a simulation. It wouldn't make sense if it were real. I focus on the sound of my heartbeat, the only predictable thing in this situation, and repeat to myself that it isn't real, it isn't real.

I emerge into reality silently.

"Tris," Tobias whispers next to me. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I register his hand on my shoulder.

Pushing myself off of the reclined chair, I stand and pace to the door like I am going to leave, and then I think better of it, walking right back and straight into his arms.

An uncontrollable sob bursts from me and is muffled by his shoulder. I curl my shaking fingers into his jacket and clutch onto him like he will disappear at a moment's notice. I just lost him in the sim, but it feels like I lost him a long time ago.

"That was my w-worst fear," I stutter out in between bouts of tears. "That the last people I love will die, and I won't be able to do anything about it."

"Shh..." He runs his hand through my hair. "You don't have to explain it."

I continue on anyway. "My previous worst fear went away because it already happened. I killed my parents."

"Tris," he scolds, keeping me at arms' length. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that. They made a choice—"

"To defend me," I eek out, guilt tightening my airway. The sight of their bodies, each littered with bullet holes, replays in my mind.

"Because they loved you. And their sacrifice was worth it."

My crying reaches a new height, and he envelopes me back into his embrace. His lips on my forehead erase the immediate anguish and chase away the rest of my misery. With Tobias, I can be strong and whole and loved. I can be the Tris that met him. I can be the Tris that took his hand when I wanted to, and kissed him back at the chasm.

He is the only person who can bring me back.


Today was rocky, like varying cliffs of emotions that constantly kept me on edge. So I go to a place where I can escape it all and enjoy a moment of peace.

The gaping hole in the ceiling is the only source of light, but the stars above don't provide much of it. Underneath hangs the net that caught me each time I took a daring leap into this faction, and I am surprised to see that it is occupied. There is only one other person in this compound who has the capability of feeling appreciation for simple things, so I approach the net with comfortable steps, knowing exactly who lies in it: the boy who pulls me out of it each time I land.

Tobias glances over at me when I haul myself into the net and roll into the space beside him. I don't speak as I lie there and link my fingers together on my stomach.

"None of the victims are connected in any way that I could find," he says slowly.

"So it's just random?" I sigh at the unfairness of it all. But then again, that makes it sound like it would be fair if certain people were being targeted, and that's not just either. This will complicate finding a reason for the deaths of these people, as well as who is coercing them to kill themselves.

Tobias hums in affirmation next to me. "Yes, but you should look at their files just in case I missed something." He has always insisted on my perceptiveness.

A lump grows in my throat, a sign that I am uneasy. "I don't want to talk about it right now," I utter quietly. Suicide is not an appealing topic, as it transports me back to dark places.

"Okay."

We slip back into heavy silence. A gust of summer wind dives into the hole above our heads and bathes us in a warm breeze. As I close my eyes to enjoy it, he reaches out and takes my hand in his, causing me to go unexplainably stiff.

He notices the movement and grazes his thumb over the back of my hand in tiny circles. "You don't have to be afraid of me, Tris," he murmurs.

"I'm not," I deny, relaxing back into the net. But I realize where that irrational fear stems from: he once drove a knife through my heart, making him unpredictable. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register that contact with him is always a risk, since he could tear himself away from me whenever he decided. It is a defense mechanism to tense up and give him mixed signals.

Tobias lifts my hand up with his palm pressed to the back of it now. I don't think anything of it until I feel his lips on my wrist, directly against the four scars that line it.

Automatically, I rip myself from his grip.

"How did you know about them?" I demand, sitting up and backing away from him. Because he crossed my boundaries. "Tell me!"

My scars—my moment of weakness, my breaking point—are something I never wanted him to know about. I never wanted anyone in general to know about them because in a place like Dauntless, any sign of a lack of strength is frowned upon. Suicidal tendencies are especially seen as grotesque in the city at the moment, with the current news of it in circulation.

It was supposed to stay between Caleb and I. And the scars have faded immensely since then; the thin, white lines would only be noticed if they were pointed out.

So how does he know?

Tobias looks utterly bewildered. "I thought you knew..."

"Knew what?"

He props himself up and faces me. "Tris," he says, reaching out for me. He tightens his jaw when I jerk my fingers away from his touch. "I was there."

The sun is beginning to set. It is fall now, meaning that the light disappears well before it used to in the evening. The orange of the sunset peeks into the Abnegation kitchen and paints the walls with something other than dull, plain gray.

The fact that it is evening means that Caleb will be home from his faux charitable work in the factionless sector soon. That thought alone is enough to renew the awful pit in my stomach that fills me with dread. I will have to hurry and eat dinner before he gets home, unless I wanted to be trapped at a dinner table full of false pleasantries coming from his end and murderous glares from mine.

That is my life now. No matter what I do, I am stuck. I am restrained to this house where my mother's hums still echo off the walls, where the ghost of my father reads the newspaper at the table. The place that I left because I was not perfect enough to play along anymore, yet here I am, after witnessing how horrible the world can be outside this home filled with lies and deceit.

It is an endless cycle of reflecting on the misled choices I have made that led to my current regret. It is monotony where I try to immerse myself back into this selfless community only to get caught up in thoughts of war, war, war. Always war and overwhelming guilt, without a break, with nothing to keep me busy.

After two months of this, I have decided that this loop will continue on until I perish.

When I begin moving robotically throughout the kitchen to get the supplies I need to make dinner, I am hit with a familiar thought:

I don't want to do this anymore.

It is an idea I have had before, but this time it strikes me as odd and unrecognizable. During the war, I threw myself into harm's way. I flippantly claimed to myself that I wanted to die, but now...this time, I mean it.

Before I escaped Erudite, I realized at my execution that I wanted to live, to hold on, to grasp onto those strings that tie me to life. I felt that way a few days after, even, when I pulled myself together for one last ride, for the information that Jeanine killed the Abnegation over.

But that was when I had my friends. That was when I had Tobias. They're not here now, and though I will see the last of them next year, some relationships cannot be mended. Besides, at this point I am not sure I will be able to hold on long enough to meet them again.

Tears blur my vision when I recall the bittersweet moment of when Tobias and I returned to his house in Abnegation. After weeks of torture, I still found it in me to love and be loved, and that was when I told him those three words for the first time to his face. And when I curled up in his arms in bed that night, for a moment I felt tranquility—the city around us was in tatters, but I had him.

I don't have anyone anymore.

While I don't have the guts to go through with actual suicide, the desperate urge to replace mental pain with something else drives me. The cutting board beneath me is littered with teardrops, but that is not the thing lying on the slab of wood that grasps my attention.

I pick up the knife and examine it with a strange interest. My miserable image reflects back at me in the blade, and I carry it with me and perch myself on a chair at the kitchen table with the idea that if I replace mental pain with physical, then maybe I will be temporarily relieved. After all, I can handle physical agony; I have been shot in the shoulder and pummeled during initiation, so this shouldn't be overwhelming.

Pressing the tip of the blade to my wrist, I wince but carry on until the line of blood travels all the way across. This first one is the worst because I am unaccustomed to this deep stinging.

This cut, I decide, is for my parents. Selfless through and through, they silently taught me important lessons about sacrificing and love. I was never good enough to live by their examples, and it was the reason that I unthinkingly got them killed.

Underneath it, I carve another cut, admiring the way my flesh parts around the knife.

This second cut is for my friends that I was unable to save. I directly caused Will's death when I shot him in the head, seeing no other choice at the time than what my fatally-wired brain saw. I couldn't prevent Marlene from jumping off the roof of Dauntless, or so I believed. If I wouldn't have foolishly chased after Jeanine that morning when Max met with Jack Kang, then maybe Shauna would have gotten the medical attention she needed sooner and would not be paralyzed today. Lynn was already in jeopardy when she went to attack Erudite, having been susceptible to the simulation serum, and I knew and did nothing to stop her; preventing her from going could have prevented her death.

Too many people surrounding me have paid for it.

With a shudder and unavoidable tears, I cut a third mark into my wrist. This one is for the Abnegation Caleb, the altruistic brother who always scolded me for not projecting myself outward. He was twisted and manipulated in Erudite, and he came out scathed enough that he would deliver his own sister to her execution for the sake of knowledge. Maybe if I had seen it earlier, I could have prevented his transfer.

With a deep breath, I watch the crimson blood leak out from the slices in my skin and drip onto my dress and the floor. I sniffle and decide that I will do one more because even though I am mostly numb, there is somebody else that deserves to mark my skin as revenge for the evil I did them.

The fourth cut is for Four himself and the constant anguish I put him through. I often like to tell myself that it is his fault that I am struggling through each day—because if I had the promise of him waiting for me, then I wouldn't be—but he was only protecting himself by splitting us up. He loved me, and I took that love and ran off with it in a labyrinth of danger. He chased after me for a long time, but then he stopped, and I acted like I was surprised? Of course he wouldn't want to be with me; he gave me everything and I never gave back. He only wanted me to stay alive and with him, and I didn't have the decency or courage to do that. I was a coward who wanted the easy way out of the war.

I watch the blood continue to ooze out of my wrist, out of the four slits. The guilt that gnaws at me is heavier, rendering the cuts painless.

I don't register that the front door opens, or that Caleb is crying out to me, screaming at me about how I could do such a thing. I don't feel him tend to my wounds or carry me up the stairs to my bedroom. When I do wake up from my trance, the ordeal rewinds in my mind, and I realize how I got here, with a bandage on my wrist and with the moonlight spilling into my bedroom.

In my numb state, I see Tobias sitting at the foot of my bed in my peripheral vision. He is handsome like I remember him, and his face is gentle when I hear him say, "Don't do this to yourself, Tris," in my subconscious. And then he is gone when I take a full glance to see if he was real.

It could never be real, especially since the Tobias I last confronted wasn't the same one I fell in love with.

However, it is enough to wrack my brain and get me to ask myself what the hell were you thinking?

I start sobbing hysterically, filled with angst and confusion and a desperate need for human contact and empathy. If I am going to give life another chance and forget about torturing myself, then I can't be alone.

Caleb is awake when I find him downstairs on the couch and staring at the fireplace with unease in his expression. I collapse in his arms with a whimper of, "Caleb," because in this moment I don't care that my brother betrayed me. I need him, and maybe this is where he can redeem himself. In that moment, I hate myself for all the mistakes I have made enough that I am able to set aside my contempt for him.

And when I see the strained worry on his face, I vow that I will never harm myself again. It isn't worth it. If tonight has proven anything, it is that people can grow back together, and life can get better with more people in it.

I watch Tobias with awe when I realize how his words connect. That night, I didn't hallucinate him. He was real—kind and real and there.

"You were there," I repeat softly to myself in an effort to set the truth into stone.

He nods and meets my eyes with his near ebony ones. "Caleb sent me an urgent message through the factionless, something relating to you," he narrates. "I left Dauntless and went straight there. I was shocked when I heard what happened...and I didn't know what to say to you, or if being there was fine in the first place."

"Well, it worked," I tell him, my voice choked with emotion. "What you said."

It gave me the jolt I needed to get my act together. It prevented any future harm toward myself. He saved me.

He sits up completely, and I shift closer to him, no longer desiring a distance between us. With a pained expression, he admits, "I couldn't bear to see you like that. You were gone, replaced by a void. I couldn't believe that the girl who conquered fear landscapes with ease and antagonized me while I threw knives at her head was reduced to that."

My eyes become wet as much as I try to blink away the tears. I never wanted to be that person he saw, but the events of the war shattered me into tiny pieces that still have yet to be put back together.

"Ever since then, I've wanted to see you awake again." I remember him telling me similar words once. He angles my head up with his hand on the back of my neck and presses his forehead to mine. "I wanted to see the girl I fell in love with again. That was why I kissed you during paintball; for a second, you were her. My first jumper."

"Tobias..." I whisper miserably, tears running down my cheeks.

His lips brush mine as he speaks delicately. "I want to build you up again. I want to be a better person for you."

My breaths are ragged as I try to control myself from having a catharsis.

"Come back to me, Tris."

With a sudden urgency, we simultaneously close the gap in between us. The kiss is curious, feeling out familiar waters, and then it morphs into something disparate, something eager. It is not like his shy one that I didn't reciprocate, and it is not like yesterday's coverup that we were enthusiastic about. Finally, we don't have to hold back any longer, and after today's revelations, I am compelled to show him how I truly feel.

Our lips fall into a synchronized dance that we easily recognize. We sit straighter, move closer, until our thighs are pressed flush together and our torsos are aligned. My hands tangle in his thick hair and his shirt because I am desperate for something to hold onto; if I didn't have something to anchor me, my fingers would be trembling from the intensity.

The way his arms are wrapped around me, rendering me locked in a stubborn grip and unable to escape, sends a new course of need into the kiss. A need to make up for lost time, a need to keep each other exactly where we are and never slip out of touch again. The warm familiarity of him makes me realize how I will always want this, want him.

We part only when I pull back reluctantly, longing for air but yearning for him more. I cradle his face in my palm and breathe, "I'm scared, Tobias."

I'm anxiously hoping for this to go right this time, but I am equally terrified because of the results of our relationship last time. I am fearful of us undermining each other until we become exactly what we wanted to avoid.

"I won't let us break each other again," he murmurs reassuringly. Tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear, he displays the gentle side of him that I don't often witness. "We can take it slow."

I shake my head and admit, "I don't want to. We can't erase the past, and we can't go backward; I think we should continue where we left off."

"Only if you're sure."

As much as I have tried to convince myself otherwise, he is the only thing I have ever been sure about. I seal our inevitable fate with another kiss.


Yay, Fourtris is back! Although it won't be smooth sailing from here...
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