Shauna waits with me on the train tracks near Dauntless. The silence between us must make her uncomfortable, because she says, "How was your visit?"
"Fine." I'm short with the word, making it clear that I don't want to talk.
She speaks into a radio to tell the train to stop where we're waiting. "You don't look like you're much in the mood to jump on," she says with a shrug.
I say nothing. If I had to jump onto the train, I could, but I won't argue if she wants to tell it to stop.
"Listen," she says while we wait. "I don't know what happened between you and your brother, but I have a brother and a sister and even though we fight all the time, I still love them."
"What?" I snap my head to the side to look at her. "I didn't say anything about my brother."
"You're the only visitor from Abnegation, and we have an Abnegation transfer this year." She keeps her gaze on my face and raises a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. "I'm Dauntless born, so I've seen a lot of transfers. The one thing they all have in common is that they all feel like they need to prove that they're really Dauntless. They see people like Eric and think they have to be the toughest, strongest, and meanest they've ever been, or no one will think they've left their old factions behind. Sometimes they go a little overboard. Seeing family on Visiting Day can bring that up." She smiles. "Besides, you've clearly got his attitude. I think I've underestimated Abnegation all this time."
She may not be stupid, but she's definitely ignorant to talk about me and Caleb as though we came from a family as normal as hers. "Good for you." I turn away.
She's apologetic. "Whatever happened, it's upset you. I'm sorry. But I'm sure that he still loves you." Squinting into the distance, she says, "Looks like the train's almost here."
I don't say goodbye to Shauna as I climb onto the train. Though I am exhausted, I can't allow myself to sit on the floor. If I fall asleep and miss the station at Western I might not make it back home before Marcus.
Caleb is no longer my brother. He's not even Caleb. For as many times as I told myself that Caleb did not owe me his choice of factions, it feels like everything I've endured for the past two years, the beatings and the time in the upstairs closet and the sleepless nights, has been for nothing. No, I can't allow myself to think that. It's selfish.
I thought that I would be satisfied with just the idea that I'd bought Caleb's freedom with my own incarceration, but I'm not. I could accept his choosing Dauntless, but his words to me, those I cannot accept. He is the selfish one for not seeing what I gave him. He was the one focused on himself, wasn't he? He had to have made his decision to leave Abnegation before he climbed into my bed. What was he expecting from me? That I would figure it out and beg him to stay?
I would have done just that. Not for him and not for myself, but for Abnegation.
An awful voice at the back of my brain says, "But he speaks the truth. You were so focused on his future that you couldn't see what was in his present. You were selfish, weren't you?"
I was. I blame myself.
No.
I blame Marcus.
I did what I did for Caleb because of Marcus. If we were anyone else's children I'd have transferred to Erudite in a heartbeat. I stayed because I thought Marcus, not Abnegation, would strip Caleb of his best qualities. I can't agree with Caleb's reasoning that Marcus is right, but regardless of whether I agree, it must be what he believes. I thought I was giving Caleb the chance to see his future in Abnegation by staying myself. But now Caleb is gone. Even if he weren't, Abnegation would still be the perfect shelter for Marcus. Nothing will ever change.
Marcus needs to die.
I am shocked when I have the thought. I know the word for it, murder, but I was taught in school that there hasn't been one since the faction system was established generations ago. As shocked as I am, I am also consumed by the idea. All I can think of the rest of the way back to Abnegation are ways I could kill Marcus. Slip the rest of my pain pills into his drink. Set the house on fire while he's asleep. Strangulation. Suffocation. Lock him in the upstairs closet for a month. Push him in front of a bus or a train. I'm all too aware of the fragilities of the human body. He exploits mine. Maybe my turn to exploit his is coming.
I force myself to rein in my thoughts. Killing Marcus might solve a problem in the short run, but I would hurt many more people in the long run. If the leader of the city council is revealed to be an abuser, Abnegation would lose the trust they've built all this time. I could tell someone the truth about Marcus, but I'm pretty sure no one would believe me. Marcus's outward good deeds and his leadership have made him untouchable. Even if I did reveal the truth, Marcus's reputation means that I would be the one hurting Abnegation. All of this is supposing that Marcus doesn't go too far and kill me first.
I was wrong when I told that Dauntless man, Eric, that I wasn't afraid of anything anymore. I am afraid of the part of me that can easily envision killing Marcus, the part that is all too willing to effect change with his blood. His cruelty, the way he has no remorse for what he does, the short temper, the way he can be patient with everyone but me, all of that is in me too, just under the surface.
If I can't get past my hatred of Marcus, can I really live an unselfish life?
If my life is forfeit regardless of whether I kill Marcus or let him live, if Caleb is lost to me forever, then I have another choice to make. I can kill Marcus and give up my life to the city lawmakers, or I can live a lie, acting to myself and to all of Abnegation that Marcus is who they think he is. I could marry Susan, get out of Marcus's house, and never interact with him again.
When I jump from the train at Western, I decide to walk home instead of taking the bus. I need some time to let my thoughts drift. Three blocks from the house, I come up with a third choice: I could leave Abnegation. I can't risk being around Marcus too much longer. I don't think I can hold on to my patience. My own life might not be worth much, but the life of everyone else in Abnegation is. If I'm gone, Marcus will have no one to abuse. I will never have to worry if I might someday snap and ruin the entire faction. There will be no one to reveal Marcus's secret, accidentally or otherwise. All of Abnegation can remain safely ignorant.
The more I think on it, the more I know leaving is the right thing to do. For as much as I believe in Abnegation, I can't stay. Even if I married Susan and somehow made a life of my own in this faction, I would always be Marcus's son, always carry the Eaton name, the responsibility. I would always know that I am too much like Marcus and live in fear of hurting Susan. I would always have game nights with the Black family and think about Caleb. I'll see this class of initiates through, because I made a promise, and then I'll leave for the factionless sector. I can't stay in what should be Caleb's faction. I can't face the rest of my faction knowing I keep these secrets. I would rather live on minimal food, hot in the summer and cold in the winter, than spend the rest of my life here. I've lasted eighteen years. I can last another six weeks.
The next few days are more or less a blur. I leave the house at the same time every day, pack and sort food and clothing, then leave for home. I avoid Susan. I make dinner every night because I don't know what else to do. I eat, but I don't taste anything. I do the things that are normal, even though they don't make me feel normal.
Marcus heads for his room right after dinner one night. When he does that, he usually does not emerge until the next morning. I go into the garden. Whether it's the knowledge that I won't see Marcus until tomorrow or the small freedom of being outside, I breathe easier out here, even though the humidity is so high I feel like I'm breathing steam. I kneel in front of the cherry tomato plant and break off a small vine with three tomatoes and a couple of jagged leaves. I pull the tomatoes off the vine and eat them one by one, concentrating on the pop of their outer skin between my teeth, their sweet acidity. Then I crumble the leaves, hold them to my face, and inhale deeply. The smell of tomato plants is my favorite. Caleb always said I was weird for that. When I sit on my knees and close my eyes, I'm eight years old again and pulling weeds for my mother, taking time here just so I can sniff the tomato plant. I think the memory of her was what held me back from replanting the garden for so long. The pain of her loss is still there, will always be there, garden or none. But now the garden holds another warm, painful memory: Caleb pretending to help me just weeks ago, then holding the watering can over the back of my neck. I retaliated by dumping dirt on his shoes, and one thing led to another until we were wrestling, laughing so hard we could barely stand.
Everything in this garden is for Caleb.
Was for Caleb.
I want to find comfort in that memory, but I can't. It makes me hate myself for not seeing him more clearly, for being selfish in ways I never intended. I couldn't see what was right in front of me, that he was going to leave Abnegation. That in the end, I would be left alone with Marcus. A scream of anger builds in me. It knots the muscles in my legs, travels in a streak of fire through my gut to my chest, then feels like it's tearing my throat in two as it leaves. I don't care who hears me.
The fennel is the first casualty. I reach into the planter and yank it out with my bare hands. Then I squeeze the bulbs and throw them as hard as I can against our back fence. I kick over boxes of thyme and oregano. The lettuce is next to go. I pull the leaves out of the soil in clumps and throw them on the ground. Then I stomp on them. I don't even bother uprooting the zucchini before I crush it under my feet. Trellis wires tear into my hands as I rip down vines of ivy. There's a pot of lavender I grow for trade. I hate the smell of lavender but it's always in demand. I pick up the pot and throw it across the yard, relishing the musical sound of breaking terra-cotta. Peas, spearmint, lemongrass, even the cherry tomatoes, I spare nothing. Within minutes, there is soil everywhere. My shirt sticks to my chest and back. Blood and dirt mix under my fingernails.
I open the door of the shed with a force that nearly takes it off its hinges. The rock salt we use on icy winter sidewalks sits in a fifty-pound bag in the corner. I carry it out to the garden and tear it open. Grains spill off the top onto the ground. I walk over the remnants of my plants and pour salt into what's left of the dirt. When my arms get too tired to carry the entire bag, I take handfuls of salt and toss them anywhere I can reach. The cuts on my hands sting. I let myself yell out in pain and frustration. I don't stop my destruction until I'm almost at the point of collapse. I am blind and deaf to everything except the echo of my scream and my determination to break everything in sight.
The anger that gave me strength leaves me drained in minutes. I sit on the back steps as I catch my breath, watching fireflies circle what used to be my garden. The smell of summer, grass mixed with iron, clings to my clothes. The reality of what I've done starts to sink in. I look at the houses on either side of mine, trying to see if the neighbors were watching me. I don't see anyone, but that doesn't mean they weren't watching from a window. Marcus would have to leave his room to see me, but if he did I'm probably in for at least one broken bone. He probably wouldn't even care about the reason I killed the garden as long as he could punish me for it. I should care about that, but I'm too exhausted right now.
Cicadas shriek from high branches. I listen and watch, feeling the tickle of sweat drying on my skin until it's fully dark. The muscles in my arms already feel stiff. I'm going to be sore tomorrow.
Good.
I leave the mess in the garden and return inside, leaving my muddied shoes at the back door. After I shower and scrub my fingernails, I clean and bandage my hands and arms. I look like I've punched a brick wall. For all the scars and pain I've endured through the years, this will be one of the first times my wounds will be visible to everyone else. The thought makes my face hot. I did this to myself.
I could tell everyone Marcus did it. Why not deal a blow to his reputation? But I can't get past the reason that's held me back all these years: Abnegation depends on him too much. It's not just his reputation, it's theirs. Erudite is already going to spin Caleb's leaving as a reflection on the faction. Marcus has also been careful only to bruise parts of me that are covered by my clothes. No one would believe that he of all people was capable of violence toward his children. He's ensured that I have no one to confide in. To everyone else, he is selfless and controlled and pious. It would take an extraordinary act for anyone to believe me.
But in a few weeks, none of it will matter.
