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Chapter 17

TOBIAS

I remember the first time I felt it. That pain that drills into your body and makes every nerve spike with craze. This pain, it didn't happen when I fell off my bike and scabbed up my knee, or the time I got hit in the gut with a football. No, that dreadful day occurred when I was only nine years old. It was a summer night, not the one that radiates in your memory with glee, but one with rain and muggy air. One where no stars line the night sky, and the moon brings no salvation to the darkness.

I can still feel the burn of his touch on my skin, and the scars have never gone away. I don't make them go away, I only hide them. And sometimes, not all the time, but every now and then, I need a second. Just a small moment in time to take a break. I would never admit it to anyone, but all these hits tonight, they hurt. It takes all my strength to get up from every tackle and move forward. But that is what I must do.

And that is what I must do right now. From the right, I can see coach rush up to me with the trainer. The rest of the field slowly clears as the players drain into the locker rooms. Some of my guys stay, because we're brothers on this team and I know they're concerned. I want to get up, really. It kills me to stay on this ground, but my body refuses to get up. I fight every muscle for control, and I try to sit up, but I need the support of the others to bring myself up into a sitting position. The trainer tells me she wants to check me out in the field house, so I bring myself up off the ground.

I refuse the help of others for support as I trudge off the field. I don't want to feel any weaker than this moment right now. And it's not the hits that are getting to me. It's the fresh markings on my back that makes every step a struggle. It was recent, and he usual doesn't beat me close to game days, but he made an exception.

My eyes avert to the sidelines because I've trained myself to see her. She is no longer in her seat next to Tori; she stands at the fence. She's on her tip toes, fist clenching the fence that reaches her hips. The wind is blowing against her back, and her hair is disturbing her face. Her eyes are on mine, though, and mine are connected with hers. I don't have to tell her what's wrong with me-she probably already knows it, or she can guess.

I bet she wouldn't guess that every time I'm hit, every time my freshly torn skin aches, I think of her-because she lights a fire in me that makes me want to move forward. All I have to do is think of her and I forget about the pain, because all I can think about is her and protecting her. I know she can and wants to protect herself, but she doesn't have to do it on her own.

I hobble into the trainer's room. I strip off my jersey top and pads, only leaving my sleeveless under armor. She gives me the concussion test and checks my heart. She doesn't say anything, and I do not ask, because I don't want to know the answer. Especially if it is a bad one. She wants me to take off my under armor to check out my back, but I do not let her. After a few more test, coach walks into the room. The two of them move off the side, and I ease myself down and close my eyes.

I think back to one of the first beatings, well, one that really sticks in my mind. That night screams in my memory, and I try to forget it. You can't forget that, though. I can still hear the crack of leather, the anger in his voice, the desperation in my scream. I was a child, and he took that away from me.

We had come home from one of my pee-wee games, and according to him, I didn't play well enough because I was too scared of the other team. He needed to whip me into shape and show me not to be afraid, because like he said, it was all for my own good. He didn't want me to flinch when someone came at me, so he'd bring the leather to my bare skin and his pale hand to my cheek until I learned not to flinch. This lesson was not learned fast.

For the longest time, I would train to be good enough for him, to satisfy him so he won't hurt me. It's cowardly and I know it, but I had to survive. Being my best isn't good enough; I have to be the best. Training as hard as I can, being the best is just a means of survival. If I was on the field, he wasn't-it was my only safe haven.

But now, I have a new reason to be the best. It sounds ridiculous, being the best for a girl, but Tris isn't just a girl. In these short few weeks, she's shown me so much. And it isn't about trying to impress her-at least, it's not my focus. I want to be strong for her, to show her it's okay to get beat down, because you can pull yourself up. The greatest victory is getting up after you fall, and refusing to stay down. I sometimes have trouble winning these victories. But I'm not alone, now.

I snap back to reality when coach grabs my shoulder. Both he and the trainer have grave faces. The trainer speaks up first, "I don't see anything major. You might have a small concussion, and I think you should sit out the rest of the game. But it's your call, only you know you."

I give a look, and I really think about it. It would kill me to sit out and let the other team beat me down. But my body aches in ways that I haven't felt in a really long time. It wouldn't be fair to anyone if I went out there not feeling one hundred percent, but I can't imagine what my father would do if he were here. He's always in the back of my mind, no matter how hard I try to push him out.

"I don't know what to do." I say, and the words are bitter as they fall off my tongue.

Coach sighs, "Okay, there's about eight more minutes left in half, think about it until then. For now, we're going to start warming up the second string. He'll probably start the half-Just let us know what your defiant answer is."

The both leave, and I hear the guys run out of the FH and onto the field. I want yell in frustration, but I learned a long time ago to control my emotions-or at least try to. I can't tell how much time goes by before I hear footsteps walking in the Field House. I want to yell at them to go away, but I stop when I see who is in the door frame.

"I'm sorry, I don't know if I'm aloud to be back here, but I had to check on you." Tris says, "I was worried when I didn't see you running out onto the field." Her eyes speak the words she is saying, and she has migrated over to my side.

"It kills me not being out there."

"I know... Are you okay. I mean, you weren't moving, and I was freaking out and..." Her voice's urgency dies down as she calms herself, "Is it what I think it is? The hit you hard in the back, and I know your... sensitive there."

"Yeah, the hits tonight are harder than normal."

"That's not all of it; there's more to it."

I knew you'd see it. "He, my father... Last night was..." I can't even admit it to her, but the look in her eye says that she knows the rest.

"Before a game? Why? I mean, who does that?" The urgency is back.

"He does, and it should scare the crap out of me, but it does." I look away because I don't want her seeing me this way.

"You fear him."

"...Yes, I do. I try to ignore them and act like they don't exist. I hate being afraid of him."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of; we're all afraid of something. Your fears make you who you are. They dictate what's important to you, and what you think about. Pretending they don't exist may make you 'braver' or 'stronger', but that takes away your humanity. You are only as good as your greatest weakness. And it's okay to have weaknesses because it what makes you human."

"And here I am trying to be Superman."

"It's not that simple... And besides, even Superman has a kryptonite." It's you.

"I guess it's impossible to be fearless, even though it'd be nice to be."

"But you care about things, and that is where most fears originate. Fear is a fire that burns from inside and even in the coldest of hearts. It motivates and paralyzes the best of us. Or, it is used as a weapon by the worst." She tells me, "Don't give him that power. And I know better than anyone else how hard it is, but one thing keeps me going."

"And what's that?"

"Sometimes it changes, but I believe that one day-it may be tomorrow, it may years from now-things will work themselves out. Those people who do horrible things, they're afraid of something, just like us. And I have to believe that they will get what's coming to them." She tells me, "I know it's hard to swallow, I choke on it every day."

"And you really believe that?"

"I believe that... I want to be strong, to prove to myself and others that I'm worth something. And it is so, so incredibly hard."

I want to prove to her that it's worth it, going through the pain for the end result. She deserves more, and so do I. I do. It's weird hearing her talk like this-so brave. She knows what it's like, and she knows what it takes to get better... no matter how hard it is. And it begins right here and now. The first step is small and hard, but she is here next to me, giving me strength.

"I'm going back out there." I say.

"What? Aren't you hurt?"

"I don't have anything officially wrong with me. All that hurts is my back, and I don't want him ruining my game, because it's my time. I'm not going to let the team down, or the school... or you."

I surprised her, because she doesn't say anything. "... Oh, you mean the deal. Right, you don't want to lose, especially with the Homecoming game coming up."

"Right, the deal..." I trail away. I begin to slide myself back onto my feet, and Tris reaches out her hands and wraps them around my arm, helping me. I put my pads back on and she hands me my jersey. We begin to walk out, and something happens that sends a shock wave through me. She grabs my hand. It's light and delicate, like she is unsure. But her grip slightly tightens as we take more paces down the hall.

She stops right at the exit, and just stands there. "What is it?" I ask.

She lets out a large sigh, "I know I talked a big game in there, but I want you to know that I'm still so scared. I'm nothing like what I talked about."

"Are you kidding, you're one of the strongest-"

"Wait. Just... you are strong and I believe it. You may think the same of me, but that is what I think of you." She takes a step closer and hushes her voice, "I've been scared for what feels like my whole life, so you go and prove that all the stuff I said is true. And you crush this team or go down fighting. Either way... I'll be proud."

This send my heart racing and my body pulses with energy. Without hesitation, I encircle my arms around her. We stand there for only a few moments, and it doesn't feel like enough. Everything I'm feeling... I feel like I will explode. "Good luck, Tobias." She whispers in my ear.

"Thanks, Tris." We part ways and she goes back to her seat and I approach the sidelines. The guys around me give a cheer, and coach gives me a relieved look as I approach him.

"I knew you couldn't resist. Just, don't overdo it. We don't need you getting more hurt than you already are."

"I know; I've got this." Right now we're on defense and the scoreboard reads 1:58 left in the third quarter and the score is 10-3. The other team has the ball on our 12 yard line, and if we don't hold them, they'll score a touchdown. The ball is snapped, and their quarterback looks for an open man. Our guys are inching closer to him, and he is getting rushed. He can't find an open man except-he sees him now. He pumps his arm and lets the ball fly.

Out of nowhere, Uriah leaps and snatches the ball out of the air. I join the others in a thunderous yell as Uriah's fast feet take him all the way to their 20 yard line. The other defenders and I take the field as the clock ticks away at the quarter. We don't want to lose our energy, so I pump them up and call our classic play.

I receive the ball and fake it to our running back, then I find my man and fire. He catches and spins past the defender. He runs all the way to the in-zone. The crowd goes crazy and I turn my attention to Tris, sitting in her spot. I point at her, and she knows what I am saying. As the end of the third quarter comes upon us, it's a brand new game. 10-10.

The fourth quarter begins with Will kicking off to the other team. They call a fair catch, and our defense takes the field again. But this time, our guys are filled with a new energy they didn't have before. In no time, the other team is four and out and their punting team comes on. We respond with a fair catch and begin our drive for the win. It's a slow drive, reducing to third downs almost every time.

We come to the 18 yard line, having already eaten almost eight minutes from the clock. It's third down and 5. I get snapped the ball, and the blitz approaches just as fast. I try to find an opening, something to get the first down, but I am tackled down to the ground. We leave the field as the specialty team goes on. I give Will an encouraging pat and we go our separate ways. The ball is snapped and Will kicks it good for three. 10-13, and we've got the lead.

All we have to do is stop them and run down the clock and we win! We've been working our defense hard, and it all comes down to this moment-pushing till the end. And that is what they do. The other team tries to pull a Hail Mary, but they fail as the final seconds disappear. Our guys erupt in triumphant cheers.

I look over to the sidelines, and usually I don't get consumed into the crowd, but I can't help myself. I run up the fence and hop over it. I run up to Tris and I wrap my arms around her. I probably smell really bad, but she doesn't care because she responds by returning the hug. The rest of the world is gone and it is just us standing on the metal bleachers.

"You did it. You really did it." She says, and I pull away slightly. I look deep into her blues eyes that have turned grayer in the dark twilight, and I place one of my hands on her cheek. I want her to understand what I am about to say to her.

"We did it. There's no way I could have done what I did without you. You make me believe in myself when nobody else can help. So thank you." The adrenaline is still coursing through my veins and my heart races inside my chest. Her touch on my skin makes it light up with sparks and warmth. Her eyes are so bright and attentive; they have the ability to look down into my soul and read every part of my mind. I do not notice anything else around except for the two of us. I try to close the distance between us, but she pulls away slightly.

"Your teammates are calling you."

I look over and I let out a sigh-I just want to be with her right now.

"Go," she says, "we can talk later."

I slowly let her out of my grasp and make my way back to the field. Some of them give me looks of envy, but I do not give them a second thought. All I can think about is her in my arms and those beautiful, haunting blue and grey eyes. Those eyes that wake me up and calm me at the same time. Those eyes that have seen too much-more than they ever should see. But we will prove that what she said earlier really is true, and we will fight.

And I don't even notice the pain radiating from my back.


Author's Note

Let's play a game! Starting this chapter, I'm pulling a quote from a TV show, or a movie, or a song. You try to find the line and the show/movie/song it's from. The first person to get it right will get a S/O in the next chapter. I am going to try to do this every chapter, but if I don't, I will let you know. Good Luck! And may the odds me ever in your favor.

See what I did there.

Be brave, everyone!