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Major thanks to everyone for following along :)
For a moment, I feel nothing except utter confusion and a flash of rage that someone, especially Bella, would do something so stupid.
"Did you just try to stab me?" I turn to Bella, noticing that the earlier paleness from her skin is gone and she looks startlingly alert. Her brown eyes are wide and clear, and she smiles brightly when she turns the scissors into my skin.
I feel it then, a searing pain that makes my eyes hurt.
"What the fuck!"
"I did stab you. You can thank me later." She winks, patting my chest condescending. I'm suddenly reminded of myself, mocking an initiate when they've been punished for doing something stupid. I blink at her, her confidence so like my own that it makes me fumble when I reach for the scissors currently impaled in my skin.
For the first few seconds, I barely felt anything. The initial pinch when the shears pierced my skin, sure. Rage at her stupidity, yes. But I was too caught off guard to notice how deep she'd really stabbed me. The final twist sent a jolt of pain through my body, and I hesitated before my hands closed around the scissors to yank them out.
"I…" I start to say something nasty to her, something that will remind her that in a few seconds her skull will be smashed into a million pieces, but I can't get anything out. I'm overwhelmed by the sensation that I'm underwater. I feel dizzied, realizing that it's hard to breathe as I gasp to take in some air.
"Eric! Eric, are you alright?!" Dr. Erin shoves past Owen, knocking him to the side and charging through patients to get to me. "Eric, answer me!"
I don't say anything. I don't really have anything to say, because I'm fine. Sure, my chest has been stabbed with a pair of dirty kitchen shears, but I'll live. Even an infection won't slow me down. It's nothing a few stitches and maybe a painkiller and a nap won't take care of.
"Don't touch me."
I try to even out my breathing, noticing the way it has become erratic. I'm reminded of the simulations from Dauntless; I feel the same slippery feeling wash over me as I force myself to breathe normally, trying to reassure myself that this isn't real.
"Eric!" Dr. Erin says my name again, and I have to try to stop coughing as my heart rate speeds up.
"I'm fine," I bark, and I stop trying to remove the scissors when the pain grows burning hot and I cough again. "I just need…I just…"
For a second, I can't think. I've been in some painful situations, but not like this. My chest is starting to burn, and I wonder if she's stabbed me deep enough to really do some damage.
"Eric, stay with me!"
Dr. Erin says my name again, and this time her expression shows utter horror. I swear she grows blurry, especially when she's up close, grabbing my arm. I jerk back at her touch, hissing when the blood begins to slowly drip onto my fingers and I find my breaths coming in sharp pants.
"I said I'm fine."
I retreat a step, grasping the scissors with both hands, ready to end this stupid spectacle once and for all. But it's as though everything is happening in slow motion; she panics, trying to knock my hands away, and behind Dr. Erin, I see Owen make a run for it, hightailing it out of the room without a single person even batting an eye. I see everyone standing and watching in rapt fascination, Aidy's eyes glued to me, one hand flying to her mouth as she yells for someone to fetch Violet. Bobby makes a gagging sound when the blood starts to drip faster, and someone yells back that Violet is not a trained medical professional and will be of no help. Someone says my name again, and I realize there's now blood all over my hands.
"He looks…he looks like he's turning blue." Aidy squints at me, taking a step back. She looks frightened, and I feel an uneasy wave of fear at her expression. "I think he's going to pass out."
I grow hot, even more so when the room starts to spin to the side. This irritates me further, for the sight of blood has never bothered me. I've seen enough spilled at my own hands to be indifferent to it, but for some reason — maybe it's the fact that it's my own — it seems very wrong.
"Eric, what happened!?"
Dr. Erin is now busy calling for the orderlies to help, and I blink, swearing I'm hallucinating. Before me stands Violet, horror spreading across her face as she sinks to the floor; I suddenly realize that at some point, I sat down.
"Eric, you need to stay still."
Violet, the untrained medical professional, is ever quiet but hardly freaked out; she puts her hands on my chest awkwardly, avoiding the scissors and pressing down in some strange attempt to stop the blood flow. Her eyes meet mine, and when they do, I notice she shares the same scared expression as Aidy. "Who did this to you?"
No one says anything, until Pete coughs the name Bella. I raise my stare to him, feeling like I'm catching everything a second too late, and notice that Bella is missing from the group. I spy her near the back of the crowd, staring at me intently. It looks like she's watching for something, a sign of sorts, before she bolts towards the door. I catch sight of something dark, a mark that I can't quite make out before she's gone. My hands weakly pull at the scissors one more time, and Violet's hands gently stop mine, pausing to undo my grip.
"I don't…I don't think you should take it out," she whispers. "I think it's in there deeper than you think it is."
"Okay," I answer blankly, and I notice I can still feel her hands over mine, gently soothing me, and I have to close my eyes.
"They're almost here."
A second later, I hear a lot of screaming, someone barking orders, and what sounds just like the shrill voice of Bella saying something that sounds a lot like he owes me as a door shuts.
"Eric, hang in there."
Rough hands are on my shoulders, knocking Violet's away from me, and the pain seems to sear with every passing second. Violet yelps when someone shoves her out of the way, and her eyes meet mine as she steadies herself back on her feet. I hear her say something, mumbling what sounds like the name Derek as Aidy pulls her back a step, and it's then that I realize this hurts way more than it should.
Shit.
"Shut the fuck up. He's not awake yet. And he doesn't want your fucking pancakes. I doubt he's hungry after his attempted murder."
Aidy's voice is not the one I want to hear as I groggily open my eyes. But it is the one I hear, and she's loud. Her face slowly comes into focus, the fuzziness fading away and I groan as the pain in my chest seems to burst awake right along with me.
"Ma'am, you need to step away. We're taking him to-"
"Eric, can you hear me? You're not dead. I repeat, NOT DEAD. Bella only stabbed you, but she didn't quite kill you. But let me say, you went down like a champ. Even tried to pull the scissors out yourself."
She pats my shoulder, her hand warm and heavy, and I close my eyes again.
I can only hope that this a dream; one shitty, terrible, never-ending nightmare that'll be over when I open up my eyes again to find that I'm back in Dauntless, in my own bed. A second passes, and I feel someone holding down my arms and legs while I'm being moved. I try to protest, for I don't need to be moved anywhere, but they are stronger than me.
They are even stronger when they inject something into my neck, a drug of their choice that makes it seem like everything is slowed down even further, but which keeps me from falling asleep as I'd like to. I'm not quite knocked out, and it seems like a sick joke that now is the time that they'd want to keep me awake.
"You okay there?" one of the nameless orderlies asks, and I want to punch him in the face.
Is he expecting me to tell him that I'm doing great? Or that I'm just very, very tired and would like to be left alone? That I'll walk the rest of the way to wherever we're going?
I ignore him.
I try to close my eyes under the bright lights, and I'm vaguely aware I'm being taken down a hallway. I had thought I was still in the therapy room, but I'm not. Aidy and Bobby are running alongside me, both offering to help as the orderly swats them away. It takes a full minute, the time it takes for them to find an elevator I didn't know we had and load us into it, before I come to the sickening conclusion that I might be more injured than I'd thought.
The feeling is confirmed when I realize they aren't taking me where I think they are.
"Hi, Eric."
When I open my eyes again, I realize this was no dream. It wasn't even a nightmare. It was very real, and so was the dull pain that came when I tried to sit up.
"Why am I in bed?" I snap, not entirely meaning to take anything out on Violet. She just happens to be the only one here, watching me from the visitor's chair with her knees pulled up to her chest. "Did they sedate me? They realize I'm the one who got stabbed, right?"
Violet's gaze is fixed on me, and I stare at her as the sunlight filters in through the window behind her. Past her hair, I catch a glimpse of the tops of trees, and the sun trying to peek through the clouds.
"Violet." I say her name forcefully, but she still doesn't answer me. Eventually, she stands up and takes a step towards the bed.
"Do you remember what happened? That Bella stabbed you and you tried to pull the scissors out?" She pauses, and her hand touches mine, sliding over dried blood that's still there. "They don't know why she did it, but it was worse than they thought. You had surgery yesterday and they said it'll take a week or so to recover. You were able to walk around after, but you got tired pretty quick. They gave you a few things to help speed up the healing."
I blink, realizing I remember none of this.
"What day is it?" I ask her slowly, insulted when she leans away from me.
"Friday. They let me come see you, but only because they feel guilty it happened. They said they could get shut down over something like this."
She stops touching my hand and moves to sit on the bed beside me. It's not an overly comfortable one, and I'm clearly in some sort of hospital wing. Judging by the view from the window, I'm up fairly high, higher than the normal rooms. I try to map out the location in my mind, but my brain can't visualize where we are, and I hate that I feel disoriented and out of it.
"They said…you'll be okay." Her stare falls down to my chest, to the large white bandage, and I wish she'd look elsewhere. There's nothing noble about being attacked, especially by Bella.
"What happened to her?" I ask, relieved when she looks up to lock eyes with me. Violet looks better than the last time I saw her, wracked with panic, fleeing the room when Owen tried to apologize to her. "Is she here?"
Violet shakes her head, falling silent. She stares at me, then the door, then her head ducks down.
"Um, she's on a different floor. Someone…someone came for her. To talk to her. They think she missed a few rounds of her medication and sort of lost it and took it out on you," she answers me softly. "I don't think we'll see her again, at least not anytime soon."
"Where…" I start to ask her where they've taken her, but the door swings open suddenly, ripping my attention to the person walking through it.
"Good afternoon."
Of course. It's just my luck that we're interrupted before I managed to really pry any information out of Violet, and of course it would be by the last person I'd ever like to see.
Dr. Branger walks in with two nurses behind her. She's dressed like always, some skirt and shirt that make her look frumpy, and enters with her usual air of false authority. She waves the nurses away, asking one of them to fetch some papers for her before staring at the two of us like we might attack her.
"Eric, Violet."
The tone of her voice grates on every nerve in my body, and her face makes me want to smash her head into the tray table. I'm sure she can tell, because she forces a smile at the two of us, one that's as fake as the glasses on her face, and she stops at the foot of the bed. She flips through a few pages on her clipboard, clearing her throat when neither of us acknowledge her.
"It seems like you all had an exciting few days while I was gone," she announces, her voice full of strained kindness. "Let me start by saying, Violet, that I'd like to apologize for Owen attempting to bring up a certain incident with you. I know we've been working hard to move past it, and you weren't prepared for what he had to say."
Violet's spine stiffens, but she sits upright, pulling her shoulders back to make herself taller.
"You said he wouldn't try to talk about it in front of the group again," she tells her, sounding far more sure of herself than the girl who was shaking at the mere sight of him. "Will he be in our group this week?"
"No." Dr. Branger's answer is flat, and she doesn't look pleased. "We've changed his therapy plan for the next few weeks. You won't see him around for a while. Your own therapy plan will be adjusted as well."
"Can we—"
"Eric, I'd like to personally apologize for the attack that occurred in my absence. Dr. Erin has been reprimanded for her failure to control things, and I'd like to reassure you that your safety is of the utmost importance."
I raise my eyebrow at her. She completely ignores Violet trying to talk to her, and instead focuses on me.
"I'm well aware of what happened, and I'm not here to engage in a debate over this. I apologize for the incident. I wanted to let you know that I was at a conference when I was alerted that you were attacked, and I came back as soon as possible."
"How kind of you," I sneer, and she bites down on her cheek, trying not to react. Violet stays silent, saying nothing at the brief apologies to both of us.
"I've been in contact with Jeanine. She wasn't happy with what happened, and after a lengthy discussion, she's asked that you be transferred to Erudite to ensure that you will have no complications after the surgery. I assured her that your lung should heal just fine. We've given you a few things to speed up your recovery, but Jeanine still doesn't feel that our medical staff here is proficient enough in this case. She'd like to oversee your recovery. After that, they'll reevaluate your progress. If need be, you'll proceed with the final portion of your treatment plan. While this treatment is not what she and I had originally discussed, I respect her personal interest in the matter."
Violet sits up straighter.
"He's… Eric's leaving?"
"Yes," Dr. Branger purses her lips together, and I can tell that this is not anything she's agreed to. "For now. His orders stand to return here once he's done, but ultimately it will be up to Jeanine."
Violet shrinks back down, and her gaze swings to me.
"Eric, is there anything I can get you for the pain? We've kept you away from the patient housing floor so you would have some peace and quiet to recover. You'll head back there soon to pack up a few things for your stay in Erudite." Dr. Branger scrawls her signature at the bottom of the page she's looking at before she looks up at me.
"I'm fine. I'd like to get out of here," I tell her, sitting up fully and grimacing at the discomfort. "There's no reason for me to stay here."
"You'll be moved as soon as the transport is here to get you. Are you sure you're not in any pain?"
"No," I answer flatly, ignoring the way my chest feels tight where I was stabbed. I can only assume they've stitched it up or bandaged it, but I stop when something beeps. "Detach these monitors, now."
Dr. Branger closes her eyes and I can see the very moment the power slips away from her. I can see that her hand has been forced, that her relinquishing me from this shithole is not her decision, and I can see that she's been told to listen to what I say.
The machine beeps again and this time, she nods.
"Do you think they'll make you come back?"
Violet stands over me, her knees touching mine as she helps me put a shirt on. The act is ridiculous; I am capable of putting my own clothes on, but I've been told to move slowly and not to disrupt the stitches in any manner. I quickly found out that raising my arms up made a sharp pain appear, and it expended energy I didn't have. I'd already refused the nurse's help, but I'd given in to Violet, letting her gently pull the shirt over my head. She works at a maddeningly slow pace, but she is careful to keep the fabric away from where the stab wound is. After what seems like forever, she steps back to examine her work.
"I can only hope not," I answer, craning my neck to the side. It pops, relieved from being stuck in bed for days, and she's frowning when I look back at her.
"I think they'll have you stay there for a while." She looks away from me, her gaze flitting out the window to nothingness. "I mean, it's pretty chaotic here. Especially now. Everyone wants to see you. They're all worried that you were really hurt—"
"I'm fine. I'm not lying to you." I say the words sharper than I intend, but I don't want this pity from her. "It would take more than being stabbed to take me down. They should know that."
"They mean well." She nods, and it takes me a second to realize she doesn't pity me, but instead is trying to cope with this the best way she can. She looks lost again, the same girl that once sat beside me, drugged to the gills to keep her silent. I hate that I understand the desperation radiating off her, one so tangible that I can almost touch it.
"I know you don't want to stay here, but it won't be the same without you. You'll be gone and we'll all be here…" She stops, and her head drops down towards the floor. I feel like a piece of shit, even more so when she stumbles over her words. "I didn't mean anything earlier. I just wanted to make sure—"
"Thank you," I tell her, and I'm not so sure the painful feeling in my chest is from the stab wound. "Violet, thank you for…for making sure I was alright."
She nods.
The room is silent.
For a long time, she says nothing. She's just there in front of me, in clothes that have seen better days, looking like she might lose it. I get the impression that her world has been hanging on by a thread, barely strung together to keep her in reality.
"You're welcome," she answers softly, her gaze on the slick linoleum floors.
This time, I am the one to reach towards her.
It's not a far stretch, but it feels like it. My fingers take hold of hers and I have to swallow a few times before I can look right at her. I should be ecstatic that I'm leaving. Jeanine might not be the person I want in charge of my recovery, but I'll have a better shot at getting signed out of this place for good under her watch. It won't take much to convince her I'm on her side, that I'm far more valuable than she ever imagined, and that I don't belong here.
I should be counting down the seconds, ticking them off one by one, until I'm outside in fresh air. Erudite will be my chance to escape. Once I'm healed, I'll be gone. Gone from there, and gone from here. I'll handle the business I mean to, and I'll return to my normal life.
So why the fuck does it feel downright rotten to know that it won't be long now?
I look at Violet again, her shoulders slumping as she tries to straighten herself up, forcing herself to once again be quiet.
"Thank you for coming to see me."
I say the words too loudly. They echo in my ears and I hate that it sounds strained, but I don't really know what else to say. No one in Dauntless ever came to see if I was alright. I had teeth knocked out of my head, bones broken, my head banged around a few times, and there were more nights than I cared to remember where I'd finally downed something to help me sleep while a nurse warily reminded me it wasn't good to take them night after night. No one ever called or stopped by to make sure I was still breathing, and it would be unfortunate if they had.
So, Violet's visit means something, especially since she should have been long gone after Owen.
"Violet," I say her name, and I sound unlike myself. Her name comes out unsure, as if I'm asking her to say something, looking for her to reassure me. I loathe the feeling, hate that I need her to look up, because if I don't make this right so she doesn't look so crushed, I have the sickening feeling I won't forget it. "I mean it."
She finally lifts her gaze when I tighten my fingers through hers, but I don't move anything else. I have the strange urge to pull her against me, holding on to her until the feeling subsides. The sensation would be foreign, for holding her like that should provide no sort of comfort in any way, but I have the devastating desire to have her against me, even if just for a few seconds.
It makes it all the harder when she steps closer to me, tilting her head up until we make eye contact.
"You could have died, you know. Especially if you had pulled the scissors out. There was…a lot of blood. I tried to stop it."
She says the words softly, so kindly that I wonder what I did to deserve them. In more than a few ways, everyone had been right. I had killed, and whether it had been a result of my orders, or something else — some dark desire to exert total control over those weaker than me — I'd never said no. I didn't deserve someone making sure I was alright, someone finding something in me worth keeping alive, but here she was, right in front of me.
In the end, I can't hug her.
I can't pull her against me like I want, no matter how badly the feeling tries to force me to. I feel shaky, stomach churning and head throbbing, as I stand there trying hard to keep myself from giving in.
In the end, she's the one who closes the distance between us. She lets go of my hand, very slowly sliding her arms around my waist, just in case I might shove her away; when I don't, she leans in until her head touches my chest, far away from the bandage.
I'm right; it feels unnatural and awkward, the action so simple and downright conservative compared to the women who'd ever found themselves anywhere near my chest. But my free hand finds the back of her head, managing to grab a fistful of her hair, and I finally give in to the urge to relax against her.
The feeling is oddly blissful.
Of course, it's also short-lived.
A minute later, there is a knock on the door from a nurse announcing they're here. I don't let go of Violet, not until the very last second, and then I find that it physically hurts when she steps away.
The walk back is agonizingly quiet.
I'm not at all surprised when Kenan shows up. After a quick greeting and a long stare at my t-shirt, he graciously guides us through the maze of the hospital wing. Dr. Branger had offered to assist me, but I had zero interest in her help. I told her I would walk, and while it wasn't entirely a brilliant plan so soon after surgery, I refused to let her touch me. I had the sneaking suspicion she'd try something, shoving me down a flight of stairs or injecting me before I could leave this place. Rendering me sick or useless so she could keep me for her own experimentation, and then telling Jeanine I simply couldn't leave yet would have been right up her alley.
"This way," Kenan calls out loudly when Violet and I lag behind. I wave him off, following slowly as I try to memorize the things I'm seeing, knowing this is important.
I take in the layout of this area, the way the nurses watch us with solemn, curious expressions on their faces, and the high tech security system that blinks as we walk through each doorway. I commit it to memory, though hopefully, I will never be back here. This particular wing is more modern than the one I'd been assigned to live in, yet it still feels ancient, like it was left behind and someone tried to force it into the current century.
We arrive at a junction, and from there Kenan leads us up to the right, then to an elevator. Violet stays beside me, her fingers sometimes trailing over the ancient painted brick, reluctant to follow along. She looks eerie in this lighting, like she's not quite real, and I have to blink a few times to make sure she's really there.
"Have you ever been over here?" I finally ask her, waiting for the elevator doors to open.
She nods her head yes, stepping closer as a group of nurses walk past holding trays of syringes. "Once. But you have to be really injured for them to bring you here."
I look around once more. This area seems like a waste of space; it is large, with lots of floor to ceiling windows and unusually high ceilings. I can picture Jeanine walking through here, her gaze inspecting everything with extreme criticism, and I'll bet she had high hopes for this particular wing.
The elevator ding is jarring. Kenan ushers us through the door quickly, and I stare at the way the elevator floor doesn't quite meet the floor of the opening as he punches a few buttons and swipes his badge.
Five minutes later, we arrive back at the patient floor.
We follow him through twists and turns, and once we walk through the heavy grey doors, I'm hit with the overwhelming smell of familiarity. I hate that it's so recognizable from my time here. I follow along slowly, keeping my eyes straight ahead. There are a few patients in the hallway, some of the crazier ones who I know won't even notice we are walking right past them. Kenan whistles as we head down the dimly lit hallway, past the nursing station where several of the girls crane their necks out to catch a glimpse of us, and finally down to the row of rooms.
"You okay, man?" Kenan eventually asks, and his voice holds nothing but honest concern.
I nod.
I'm fine, I'm just struggling with the desire to head the opposite way he's taking me. Moments after we'd passed the nurse's station, Violet had slipped away, and I'd watched her slink down the hallway and towards the offices. I wondered if any of the doctors were still here, trying to make sense of what had happened, or maybe trying to figure out the best follow-up plan of action. Or maybe they're all gone, punished for what happened.
Whatever they decide to do would be pointless. Anything that relates to Bella makes little sense, and this latest antic won't be her last. I predict her wild outbursts will increase, and their only solution will be to erase her mind.
But I forget all that when Kenan opens the door to my room, the door sanded and scrubbed clean, and I step through into total disarray.
"The fuck?"
To my annoyance, my stuff is everywhere; the sheets ripped off my bed, the pillows thrown to the side, and my clothes — the dark fabric the last remaining semblance of Dauntless I have left — tossed and thrown on the ground.
I stand in the room, just steps from the doorway, and I wait for Kenan to follow me in there.
His swear is loud and angry, the harsh motherfucker echoing down the hallway, and he's gone before he can notice the folded up piece of paper on my bed. I pick it up once he leaves, after he's issued a loud warning for me to stay there and not go anywhere, as though a punctured lung and skin held in place by thread would allow me to wander very far after my walk down here. I wait until he's gone to open it up, and then I scowl.
The writing is very neat and precise, and the red ink mocks me.
I read it with a dark expression, one that mirrors the scribbled out Dauntless logo someone had drawn above it along with my name.
You're welcome.
She watches me slowly put the shirts in some sort of order, neatly folding them and resisting the urge to find Bella and shove her face first into the wall to show her what happens to people who touch my things. I manage to restrain myself, at least for now.
"Are you happy to be leaving?"
I glare at her of the corner of my eye, wondering if she's really that stupid.
"I just, I mean, I know you're sort of…attached to some of the people here. It must feel surreal to be leaving right in the middle of your treatment."
"My treatment," I say mockingly, "is bullshit. But to answer your question, yes. I'm thrilled to be leaving, because I won't be back. And I'm not attached to anyone. I'm attached to my sanity, if anything."
"Uh huh," Dr. Erin says slowly, pressing her lips together. "Either way, I just stopped by to say goodbye."
"Bye," I snap, refolding the shirt and wondering where the fuck I was supposed to put it. "Do you need something else?"
She's still sitting there, observing me carefully. When I win the staring contest, she nods her head and juts her chin out to really show me who's boss.
"I came in here to ask that you make this a clean break. We've been talking with the doctors, and we've decided there's really no need to reintroduce you to the patients. Once you're all packed up you can head downstairs to wait for the transport. It'll be easier that way."
"Why?"
"You know why," she answers slowly. "I don't need you down there causing a scene."
"You think I'd cause a scene?" I ask innocently, sneering when she moves to hand me some sort of bag. "I'm hurt."
I stop what I'm doing to cock an eyebrow at her, pleased when she looks away.
"Eric, you know I'm talking about Violet. There's no reason to prolong this or to get her worked up all over again. She's been off task since you got stabbed, and that doesn't fare well for her own treatment."
I stare at her, undecided if I'm more annoyed that this duffle bag is visually offensive or that she's in here to tell me who I can and can't talk to.
"I know that you like to think that you know her, but you really don't. You have no idea that she's poorly handled the trauma from her past, and with the way she's exhibiting obsessive behaviors over you being attacked, I think you can see why we're worried. It'll be easier if you stay away."
Dr. Erin finally looks up from the bed, trying hard to look like she's not at all uneasy. She already glanced around a few times, pushing her glasses up her nose and attempting to keep a neutral expression on her face at the dismal accommodations. I know she's familiar with the patient rooms, but I wonder if this is the first time she's ever really been in here. She definitely doesn't look impressed, and I get some satisfaction when she sighs heavily, readjusting her position on the bed.
"You know I'm very sorry for what happened. I had no clue at all that Bella was planning on doing something like that, or where she got the scissors from. But I'm glad you're alright, and I'm glad the surgery went well."
"Gee, thanks. That means a lot." I roll my eyes, returning to packing up my shirts. The number of personal items I have is dismal at best, but I refuse to leave the shit here.
"I just feel like I need to go over some things with you. I feel the need to explain that the only reason we let Violet visit was because she was distraught by the attack. She was visibly upset and refusing to do anything until she was certain you were alive."
"Someone would have to try harder than that to kill me." I grit my teeth together, insulted that everyone here seems to think I'd be taken out that easily. "Trust me."
Not that Bella hadn't tried. I had to admit I was surprised to learn that she'd had managed to do some actual damage. I was taken aback that she'd actually punctured my lung with the scissors, which explained why I'd felt like I couldn't breathe. In order to fix her little tantrum, I'd had surgery a few days ago, but this incident had prompted a few things to move into place, including attention from Jeanine that these doctors didn't want. It was clear she wasn't at all happy with what had happened here.
I could tell Dr. Branger was pissed, and she should be. I had completed shit while I was here, I was nowhere near where I'm sure they'd hoped I'd be progress-wise, and I'd fully resisted every therapy method they'd thrown my way. I was the ideal candidate for their experimental methods, and I was now being ripped away from them. To top it off, Dr. Erin had been supervising at the time I was attacked, and losing a patient on her watch wouldn't have gone over well for either her or Dr. Branger, especially when there was an option to use me for their own gain. Lack of patient control, however, was something Jeanine wouldn't stand for.
"Well, she did harm you. And that's something we aim to prevent here. We prefer our patients in a more…relaxed state of mind," Dr. Erin states, watching me cross my arms over my chest to stare at her.
"I'm fully aware that you prefer sedating everyone into behaving. Easier to keep people in line that way," I answer, and her eyes narrow.
"I'm not here to debate our methods. I know you don't believe in them. I'm simply here to ask you a favor."
For once, I hadn't expected Dr. Erin to show up. Her visit was surprising, and even more so was the realization that she'd only come in here to plead with me to not say goodbye to Violet.
"Since the two of you talked with Dr. Branger, she's been asking about her own release date. How much of her program she's really completed. I hate to be the one to break it to her, that she'd never survive outside of here. But you know that, don't you? You know she's violent and unpredictable. I know that you…seem to get along with her, but you can't ignore such behavior. We need to let her readjust to her life here, without you."
I look away, and I can feel my whole face tightening. This whole conversation feels gross and unnecessary. I'd expected her to come in and apologize, but instead I've been treated to a riveting discussion on how worthless Violet is. It's strange, because up until a few days ago, Dr. Erin seemed to think highly of her. She's always been respectful of Violet, and I'd learned that she was the one to assign most of her unlimited privileges to her when she realized Violet could easily earn them thousands of times over.
But the way she's speaking right now, I half expect Violet to come lurching in here with an axe and a crazed expression on her face.
"She's violent? That's interesting, considering half the time she flees from confrontation. She can barely make eye contact with people or speak above a whisper. I agree, she might be unpredictable, but she's got it together far more than the others on this floor."
"Half the time. You've seen her attack unprompted."
"I'm pretty sure Owen coming after her counts as being prompted," I retort, examining the ceiling.
"Eric," Dr. Erin announces firmly, "Listen to me. She was brought here because of who she is. I think it would be in your best interests to leave her alone for a while. Especially before you leave. You'd be helping us minimize her reaction to your…release."
"You mean, you don't want her getting any ideas? You don't want me whispering in her ear that she shouldn't believe in your methods?" I mockingly answer her, hatred running deep in my veins. "She might not survive on her own, but she'd damned well try. That's the difference. And did you just tell me you're keeping her here against her will?"
Dr. Erin's silence is very loud.
"So, you are?"
"No, we are not. Her orders were to stay here until her treatment is completed. This event has been a major setback. She's not eligible for release, nor is she on track to complete any program. In all the years she's been here, she's made little progress—"
"Are you actually treating her? Or are you making her color pictures and tell you which animal is her favorite? Because your methods are shit, and you know it."
She presses her lips together until they disappear.
"Tell me, if you were treating her, just you , no Dr. Branger, no other doctors with their own agendas, no Jeanine," I stop and stare at her pointedly, noting the way she leans back. "What would you do? How would you help her? If you weren't keeping her here…just because."
After another moment of silence, Dr. Erin looks away.
"Alright. I'll play your game. If she was my own patient, one not here to carry out sentencing, I'd work with her one on one. I wouldn't let her get lost in the group therapies and I would prefer not to force the answers out of her. Perhaps an immersive method. I'd like to teach her to be able to process what happened, but all this would require…"
She trails off and I wait patiently. "Would require what? Just doing those things? Less aerobics and more actual work?"
"There are things about why she's here that you don't know. Things that are out of my control. I can't dictate her program as much as you think I can."
"Why not?" I ask, wondering just what else I can get out of her. "Why can't you change the direction of things? Start actually working with her and get her to where she—"
"She won't be released, Eric," Dr. Erin tells me firmly, and this time, her expression is grim. "Part of her sentencing is to be here, working through a very specific program designed to rehabilitate her the best we know how. Her program does not ever include her leaving here. She wouldn't cope outside these walls, even with proper therapy. She wouldn't be accepted anywhere. She'd wind up dead, just another factionless body you'd stomp over on your next patrol."
"You know that for a fact?" I question, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Yes, I do."
"And why are you telling me this now? A few days ago you were jumping up and down at the fact that I'd fallen asleep next to her. Now you're telling me to stay away. What changed?" My curiosity wins out over me, and the doctor seems surprisingly willing to share this with me. I push further, hoping she'll comply. "You didn't seem to mind at all, if I recall correctly."
Her cheeks flush at my statement, my words clearly hitting a nerve.
"I was wrong to overlook that little event. I was…I liked the idea that something in you resonates with something in her. The two of you of have this connection, one that I can't explain, that doesn't make sense. She should fear you, much like everyone should. You should despise her, for she is the weakest patient in here and the least like yourself. Yet, you two seem to need each other. Maybe you see yourself in her. Maybe you're afraid, and you feel brave by making sure she isn't."
"That doesn't answer my question," I point out, trying to ignore her armchair psychologist diagnosis. "Why now?"
"When you leave here, she will self-destruct. It'll be easier for the both of you if you put an end to this friendship now. Let her adjust back to the way things were. I'm trying to avoid having her slated for any extreme measures if she reacts poorly to you being gone."
"And you've seen no growth in her? Nothing? She's exactly the same as she was when she came here?"
"No, Eric." Dr. Erin sighs. "But that doesn't negate the fact that you've been giving her this false sense of hope. You shouldn't be getting involved in matters that you can't change. Even after you're released, you won't be able to help her. Setting her free would be a death sentence for her. No faction would be welcoming to her. We weren't anticipating you leaving so soon, and we know that she won't handle it well. You would have been asked to leave her alone when we knew your release date. To stop encouraging her to want out. She was fine before you got here. Content. She knew her place in life. You've given her this idea that her life can be something it will never be."
It's my turn to lean back.
My mind is whirling, trying to connect dots that are just a little too far apart, but I nod my head regardless.
"Are you telling me this because you think I won't be coming back here?" I ask her slowly.
Dr. Erin nods wearily, rising up from the bed and watching me carefully. After a minute, she uncrosses her arms and takes a step towards me.
"You know what? Say your goodbye. Just make sure it's worth it."
I find her sitting on the fire escape.
I don't know how, but I knew she'd be out here. I slowly ease down next to her, feeling like I'm far older than I am, silently cursing Bella and her attack. I try to get comfortable on the cold metal, but it's impossible for a few reasons.
It seems fitting, though. Nothing in my life has been easy, this conversation isn't going to be easy, so I might as well be uncomfortable while I sit here. I widen my legs apart, trying to make it feel like we're anywhere than on a rotting staircase, but Violet doesn't acknowledge me. She swallows when I nudge her with my elbow, and it's then that I get the feeling she knows what I'm about to ask.
"I heard about your room. Do you think Bella did it?"
Or maybe not.
She looks over at me and smiles, the kind that's so pathetically fake that it reminds me of the one Four had the day I told him I'd be helping him train the initiates. It falters the longer I stare at her, until I nod my head.
"I'm one hundred percent sure it was her. Though I have to say, I find it sweet. Clearly, she can't let go of our friendship," I announce loudly, wondering how on Earth she isn't cold sitting out here. "She could have just asked to hang out. She didn't need to go to such extremes to get my attention."
This time Violet can't help but smile, the corners of her mouth turning up, even though it's obvious something's bothering her.
"What are you doing out here?" I cut the small talk short, turning to face her. I'm close enough that my feet are almost touching hers, and my knee rests against the side of her thigh. She's dressed warmly, given the dark storm clouds that won out over the sun again, except for her feet. No one here seems big on shoes, but I get the sinking feeling Violet's were taken away from her. "You get tired of sitting next to Bobby?"
"He's going nuts that he hasn't seen you yet. He keeps asking Pete to break into the hospital wing since he thinks you're still there." She shoves her hair behind her ear and she looks away from me. "Are you…are you going to—"
"Yeah, forget about that. I want you to tell me why you're here," I interrupt her, and I wait until her black eyes are back on me. "What did you do that was so bad that you ended up with all these nut jobs? I've told you before that you're almost a little too sane to be stuck in a mental institution."
I expect her to look away, but I also expect her to answer me. After all, she told me she was working on a way out of here, and her post-shower confession still felt pretty fresh. There had to be a reason that Dr. Erin felt the need for me to stay away from her, something I'm not supposed to know that would make this whole façade fall apart.
But Violet doesn't give in as easily as I hope. If she were an initiate, I could easily intimidate her into telling me whatever I want to know. In Dauntless, my methods rarely failed. But she's not an initiate, this isn't Dauntless, and she's something more than just someone wandering the halls with a crazed expression on her face. Like Dr. Erin, I realize I don't want to force it out of her, I simply want her to tell me.
Maybe it's that I want her to trust me, even though I don't especially deserve it.
"You know what I did," I point out, figuring I might as well fill the silence. "I took the fall for Jeanine. I took the fall for another leader against my will. I didn't deserve any of this, and when I get out of here, I will make them all pay. But you, you can't possibly have done something so awful that they'd lock you up here and subject you to years of their treatment. I may have done the things they accused me of, but I don't think you did."
"Don't be so sure about that," she stalls, her gaze up in the clouds. "I'm in here for a reason. I don't think it's right, but you might. You might agree with their decision."
"Try me." I smirk at her, and she looks like she'd rather do anything — including possibly attending one of those terrible two-hour long therapies — than talk. The two of us stare at the swirling clouds in the sky, the misty fog weaving itself through the trees to the point where the forest slopes down.
"Violet," I prod, knocking her knee with my own.
"Okay, but it's a long story."
"I've got time," I lie through my teeth, unable to tell her that any second now, Kenan should be crashing through to tell me they're here to take me away.
Beside me, she sighs wearily. I can see her fidgeting, but I wait patiently. I press my feet down against the metal grate of the stair, ignoring the sharp feeling. It's painful, but good. It reminds me I'm alive, and at least I have that going for me.
"I'm sure you figured this out by now, but I've been in here for a really long time," she begins, and I turn my stare away from the metal and back to her. "I grew up in Candor. I was just a normal person there. I went to school, I had a lot of friends. I liked it, and I can remember feeling happy, really happy. Sometimes, I think about that, how good it felt to be happy, because I don't think I'll ever feel that way again."
She stops, adjusting the sleeves of her sweater before she continues. "But, there's this guy..."
I raise an eyebrow, already irritated with where this is going.
"He works with Jack. He administers the truth serum during their interrogations."
"Niles?" I ask in surprise, thrown off completely. "I'm familiar with him."
"Did you know he had a son named Derek?"
I shrug, trying to remember. I'd never personally interacted with Niles, and I'd always found him to be arrogant for someone so boring.
"I guess."
"Well, Derek was maybe a year older than me. He'd already chosen Candor, and he was…well, he was everywhere I went. I started to notice him on my way to school, on the way home, even when I went out with my friends. It felt weird, like I was seeing him in places that I shouldn't be. One day, he asked me if I wanted to get coffee with him. I was really dumb, and I had no clue that he'd been deliberately following me around. So, I agreed, and of course, it went terribly."
"Why?" I stare and her, noticing her arms wrapping around herself.
"He was…really conceited and obnoxious. He told me I was lucky to be seen with a guy like him, and he kept bringing up that he had connections to Jack because of his dad. He told me I should listen to what he said, because otherwise, he'd make sure no one would ever want me. I didn't really get what he was talking about. I listened for a while, then I thanked him for the coffee and told him I had to head home. He was mad, really angry in fact, but I didn't think anything of it. I went home, did my homework and I forgot all about it. Until I started to notice him more and more. Always looking for me, always like he was waiting. One day, I ran into him at the market. He was with a friend of his, and they both followed me out once I'd bought the things I came for."
She stops, and she takes a deep breath.
"I should have noticed that something was wrong. Derek hadn't bought anything and neither had his friend. They stayed a good distance behind me for a long time — until we got to the woods. I didn't live far from there, but he called my name and I stopped. I turned around, and that was when he grabbed me."
I blink.
"Looking back on it, I should have kept going. Or I should have screamed or tried to get away. But I couldn't. I was frozen, especially when his friend left us and said he'd be right back. I thought they were going to kill me, but instead, Derek backed me up against one of the trees and kissed me."
"What?" I start to say, but she shakes her head.
"Yeah. To say I was surprised was an understatement. I should have figured out that he was still pissed off that I didn't want to date him. But I didn't figure it out, and I didn't want him to kiss me. So, I pushed him away, and he didn't take my rejection very well, this being the second time. I thought I was saved when his friend returned right as he was screaming at me. He told me I was going to be sorry, and that's when Owen saw us."
"Owen?" I ask, and I feel an intense rage that he was involved. "What did he do?"
"Nothing, at first. I don't think he knew what to make of what he was seeing. He was walking towards us, and I knew he could see everything happening. He watched as Derek taunted me for what seemed like forever, not saying a word. He watched as Derek got so worked up that he hit me and told me I owed him for making him feel so shitty. When Derek turned his back on me, I thought I had a chance. I should have run away, but something in me snapped, and I went after him. I managed to get him to the ground, and I thought he'd get the hint and leave me alone. Instead, he hit me one more time on the side of my head, and everything went blurry. For a few seconds, I thought I couldn't see. But I managed to kick Derek in the stomach, and when he fell back, he hit his head on the rocks behind him."
"Violet," I blurt out, my fists clenched tightly, but she shakes her head again.
"It's as bad as you're thinking. His skull was split open, and it immediately started to bleed everywhere. He was still conscious, but I knew it couldn't be good. I tried to help him. I went over to him, and I…I tried to stop the bleeding and I tried to keep him calm. And he kept…he kept saying it was all my fault, and how he'd kill me when he could. Owen finally came forward. He said my name once and then he fled, yelling he'd be back. I didn't know where he was going. I thought maybe he was getting help, so I stayed with Derek, telling him to hang in there. I don't know why. The man was going to hurt me, and here I was, trying to console him because I was afraid for my own life. Owen returned not long after, but not with the help I was hoping for. He came back with Jack and Niles."
"Did he die?" I ask, as one thousand thoughts ram their way around my brain. "Is Derek still alive? Is he here?"
"No." She shakes her head furiously. "He died before they could get him out of the woods. Niles was understandably furious. He blamed me and I couldn't…I never even got to tell them what happened. They kept asking Owen, and he made it sound like I'd killed him for no reason at all. I pleaded with them to listen to me, that what Owen was saying wasn't entirely true. That Derek had assaulted me, and I'd only tried to get him off of me. I'm sure you can guess the rest. I was prosecuted that day. Charged with the murder of Niles' son, and sentenced to time here. I was told I was lucky, that I should have been executed that day."
Her voice trails off slightly, and she looks faraway, like she's reliving it all over again.
"I wasn't actually of choosing age, so my parents accepted the sentence for me. Since I was minor, they agreed to waive their parental rights at Jack's demand, and they severed all ties with me. They were told never to come see me, never to petition for my release, and never to speak of what happened. Jack believed that I had killed someone. He told me that here, they could help someone like me. At first, I thought maybe he was right: that I needed to be here, since I'd hurt Derek. That maybe it was all my fault and I should have to serve time for it. But I soon realized it's not a sentence like yours. It's a life sentence meant to keep me here, away from everyone. Sometimes, I forget that part. But when I think about it… I never even got to take the aptitude test, never chose a faction. I've just been here, all this time."
I unclench my fists.
"So, when you asked where I'd go if I got out...I don't know. I don't have anywhere to go, and I never will. I couldn't just walk back into Candor and start over."
Her smile is gone now and she chew the sides of her cheek.
"I finally realized that I'll die before I ever get out of here. I'd never really looked at it that way, since I'd always tried to make the best of it. The first few years I was in here were awful. I don't remember much of them, but I remember telling everyone what happened. I screamed for them to let me out, to tell everyone the truth. It got worse when Owen showed up. He sort of went mad with guilt over what happened, but no one would listen and Jack didn't want him spreading that around Candor. So, he stuck him in here with me. But once he was here, I couldn't handle it. Seeing him daily brought me back to that moment, every single day. I could barely look at him, and I couldn't be on the same floor as him. So, I asked to speak to Jack or my family, and in return, I was given a lot of stuff to keep quiet: sedatives, electrotherapy, isolation. The best they found was large doses of peace serum. They found that it made me tired, and quiet, unwilling to speak about such negative things. Pretty soon I just stopped talking, and they'd sometimes ease up on the dose. By the time I was twenty, I'd come to accept it as my new life. I followed along with what they asked, and I learned how to stay off their radar. Some of them worked to make it better. Dr. Erin gave me the most privileges she could, and she told me I had more freedom than others. I was allowed a lot of things other patients weren't. But, I feel like I've earned them."
"Violet…"
"It's okay." She smiles miserably, her gaze stuck out in the distance. "I did kill him. I didn't mean to, but I did. When you got here, there was something in me that just snapped the same way it did when I attacked Derek. You were so furious with the doctors here, so unwilling to go along with what they wanted. I knew that feeling. You made me want to be free. After a few days of seeing you, I knew that I had to try to find a way to get out. That there has to be someplace, somewhere I could go. Pete said I could maybe go to Amity. He said I could tell them what happened and they'd let me stay. He said it's easy to get lost in there, or that maybe his family would let me stay with them if I explained what happened."
"Does everyone know why you're here?" I ask her tightly, and I have to force myself to stay seated. "And is Pete planning on leaving? Does he know where Amity is from here?"
"He says he does," she answers, sounding slightly more optimistic than before. "And yeah. He said he's had enough of being in here. Yesterday, he talked about how he misses being home and how he'd even be willing to work with his family again."
"Fantastic," I tell her, and she looks over at me. "Violet, tell me that everyone who knows what happened has told you that it was wrong. Tell me that these…doctors are aware of what's gone on."
"They are," she answers simply. "I have told them. They said there's nothing they could do. They just go with it because…because they can do whatever they want with us. They can practice on us, inject us, experiment however they please. Bobby's had his brain wiped twice. He can't remember that he tried to kill his entire family in a fit of rage. Bella can't remember that she's been given so many diagnoses that they just keep giving her stuff to take, hoping something will work. Pete's been in isolation for two weeks, far longer than anyone else. It just depends on the doctor and how they feel that day. They used to threaten me with the brain wiping treatment, but they stopped when it didn't stick as well as they'd hoped. There's a newer version they've been working on, and I'm sure they'll want to test it out soon. That's why… I want to get out of here. Even if I'm only out for a while, I want to know what it's like before I won't remember."
"Fuck." I snarl the word. She looks startled, not by my choice answer, but by the way I stand up abruptly.
"Violet…"
She stares up at me curiously, holding my stare as I stand over her, fighting down the irrational thoughts of going to find Dr. Branger, grasping her by the throat to cut off her air supply and trying to reprogram her brain myself. I want to see how she likes it, to have the threat of having your whole self erased, all because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"This is bullshit. All of it. You shouldn't be in here. That sentence…that's not even…he had no right." I bark the words at her, knowing I'm not exactly telling her anything new. I'm just simply reminding her of how unfair the whole thing is. I want to tell her she needs to fight, she needs to come with me, clawing her way out of this place every chance she gets. That this is no life here, and that accepting their sentencing is defeat, and she's better than that.
"Have your parents ever come here? Did anyone…ever visit? Or follow up?"
I think back to Bella's words, how no one has ever come to see Violet, and she confirms them by shaking her head.
"No. Jack made them promise they'd never step foot in here. They could have tried, but they didn't. And there's no one else to know I'm gone."
"How did they explain where you went?" I hiss, and the anger tastes bitter in my mouth. I find myself growing furious at Jack's blatant abuse of his power, and at the fact that these so called doctors are able to do as they please. "Didn't anyone notice that you just disappeared?"
"I don't know," she tells me, her voice nothing but honesty and hurt. "I can only assume they said I got sick…or maybe I ran away on my own. Maybe people thought I was factionless? No one's ever told me how they handled it."
"This is—" I stop, catching sight of Kenan watching with a knowing stare. He nods and smiles, waving me towards him. But his smile isn't happy, it's one that tells me he knows what we're talking about, and he's looked out for Violet for a long time.
I just hope he still will.
"Insane?" Violet stands up, locks eyes with me, unblinking, and I realize there's not a hint of irony in her words. She shrugs her shoulders, her gaze turning back to the never-ending forest, and her head drops down.
"Yeah, I know."
I say goodbye in her room.
The air is warm and heavy, barely-there sunlight filtering in through her window. It all seems wrong; the lights flicker every once in a while, and the floor seems uneven. Maybe it is. Maybe I've never noticed. A prickle of paranoia flashes over me as my head is filled with the thought that maybe none of this is real. Maybe my brain's already been wiped clean. Maybe—
"Will you come back and visit? Even…even just once?"
She stands in front of me, pushing her hair out of her eyes, the pieces chopped up and not staying where she wants them to. When she stares at me, I'm hit with the sickening awareness that I've never noticed that she's pretty in a startling way. That she isn't what I'd normally find myself staring at from across the Pit, but she's beautiful in a way I haven't seen before.
I swallow thickly.
"Or, will you promise that you won't forget me? If you don't come back here, that you'll remember who I was? Maybe…maybe I'll see you again, sometime. Out there."
Her words are so full of hope, so optimistic, that I feel nauseous as I fumble for her with nothing to say. I roughly yank her against me, my nails digging into her exposed skin. I find my mind frantic, pleading with me to just give in, to give her what she wants.
This isn't it, but it's all I can do.
My hand finds her lower back, and even through her shirt I can tell she's cold. She looks up at me, and I realize her eyes aren't black, but brown.
"I'll…"
My forehead touches hers, the action so disgustingly juvenile that I half expect myself to forget how to breathe in some clichéd reaction to being so close to her. I can feel her hands resting on my chest, one of them sliding up and looping around my neck, and she frowns.
The whole event is laughable. I'm sure to anyone looking in, they'd think that this is the moment that will change my life. That this moment is the one that means I'll break her out of here, that I'll valiantly kill Jack and rectify this situation, that I'll ride off into the sunset with her, taking her with me into the paradise that awaits us, saving the day and allowing myself to be happy for once. I struggle with it all, the same sickening sinking conclusion that in here, I am powerless. Against them and against her.
I'm stupid to think that I could save her.
I'm stupid to think that I'd want to save her.
I'm stupid because I do want to.
I give in when her nose touches mine, her fingers digging into my hair and my own fingers twisting the fabric of her shirt. I need to remember that I've never been powerless, at least not against them. I can get out of here, I can deal with Jeanine, I can deal with Jack. It's dealing with Violet that will be harder, knowing I've left her behind, with only a faint promise to fix things.
It's when her lips finally touch mine, cold and soft, that I realize she's never asked me to save her.
I don't say goodbye.
"Sit in the middle."
The orderly that walks me out looks suspicious. He should, for I'm being taken away under the guise of some medical necessity, but I'm walking out with him. I'd refused a wheelchair, feeling fine enough to walk, but quickly realized I was still short of breath. So, that meant we walked slowly, far slower than he liked, while I smirked alongside him. I wasn't handcuffed, and I can only assume that they found me to be too weak and pathetic to fight them off.
I made sure to stay quiet, because I wanted my hands free.
I let them guide me out, each one so close to me that they bumped into me as we walked, one with his hand on my arm. I let them prod me forward, until I saw the truck, almost identical to the one that had brought me here. They aren't incredibly kind as they push me forward a step. One opens the door and the other signs off on a clipboard, not even looking up at the guard. I climb into the truck awkwardly, sliding into the middle of the back seat, keeping my stare forward. I'm tempted to look upwards, to scan the windows looking for her, but I can't bring myself to see her face.
I'd left her in her room, unable to say anything.
"He's in."
The orderly slams the door shut without so much as another look in my direction. The driver walks around the side of the truck, nodding and waving them off. A second later they slide into the seat, the dark blue uniform out of place amongst the white.
"Are we leaving?" I snap, unwilling to sit here any longer. I'm growing impatient, an itchy feeling that makes me wants to tear my skin off, and I have to bite down on my cheek to keep it from taking over.
The driver nods, waiting for something. Once the orderlies have retreated back to the doors to await our departure, she turns around and stares directly at me.
Maybe it was the heavy anxiety that had settled in my stomach, or maybe it was the faint lingering memory of Violet's face when I'd stepped away, or maybe it was the fact that my chest did hurt, but I'd failed to notice that my driver was a familiar face, one I hadn't expected to see again so soon.
"Buckle up, Eric. It's a bumpy ride back to Dauntless."
Tori shrugs the heavy blue jacket off, tossing it to the passenger seat beside her. She smiles widely at me in the rearview mirror and locks the truck before taking off.
The hospital looms in the rearview mirror the entire time, until the heavy gates open up for Tori and she drives through them with a smug grin. Then it's gone, the sanitarium vanishing the same way it had appeared when they brought me here.
Out of nowhere.