11. 33%
Words: 101
White is all he can see. White walls of the hospital wing, the white coats of the doctors, the white-hot rage that burns in his brain. It has been 3 hours since he had found Tris unconscious on the ground of The Pitt. A fresh bullet wound in her stomach. No-one has told them anything, is she alive? Is she dead? The waiting room is full of her friends, Christian quietly crying, Will next to her mumbling calculations to himself. "33 percent" he says after a while. "Could be worse odds". And with those words the white-hot rage burns brighter and brighter.
