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Chapter 33

TRIS

A moment. That is how long it takes for everything to change. It came out of nowhere. Like it was a lion, hidden from its prey behind tall grass, ready to pounce. And it pounced. Hard.

I was on my walk, trying to ravel through the mess of my life in my mind. At some point, I passed a video store, and of course on the TVs were updates on the trial. Peter's a bastard - a sick, sick bastard. I knew he would try to say it consensual, but I never in a million years would have thought he would do this...

Did it really happen? Can I even trust him for the truth, for the right answers? I don't know anymore. After Peter... I just blacked out... And I didn't come to until the next morning. In those hours of darkness, what did happen? I don't know anything anymore.

My mind's so focused on trying to understand and remember, I don't notice everything around me. The faces of the people I pass get lost out of my memory in seconds, and the time has become something I am not associated with.

I was just walking down the street. And then I wasn't.

There was a flash of metal, then the sound of a car screeching away. Now I am lying on the ground, the wet ground. A turn of my head reveals a pool of red entrapping me.

Someone screams, and I hear many shouts. But that all dulls away. Everything in the corners of my eyes become fuzzy, and soon they all slowly disappear - along with the sound. Each distinctive voice losing its sharp intensity until it is all a simple buzz. And the sky, it is white and cloudy. But the white turns to grey, and the grey turns to black.

And there is complete silence.

There is peace.


The misty rain sprays the window of the bus. My mother always let me have the window seat; even when it rains, I like watching the world pass by through the glass.

The bus hits a bump, and my mother -sitting next to me - gently slides closer. Fall is slowly coming down on the city, and it banishes the warm, sticky, humid air that accompanies a Sunday rain shower. So with the humid air gone, and the cold wet rain closing in, I savor the warmth of my mother's touch on my arm.

And her smile. The smile she gives me all the time, and the one I take advantage of. Every day. And all I can do is smile back at her. But that is all I need to do.

"Mother?"

"Yes, dear..."

"Why don't Caleb and dad have to go to church with us today?"

"They got home late from football last night. I let them sleep in today, just this one time."

But I know it won't be the only time, because football seems to always be the most important thing in the house.

My mother's gaze travels to the window and the passing city streets the glass frame holds. Her smile changes into a line. While my mother is very beautiful - no matter how much she hides it - worry lines and wrinkles take shape on her forehead and around her eyes.

"What is it?" I ask.

"So much to be done out there. So many people and things to help. And not enough people are willing to do it. And too many people don't want help to be given."

"There are so many people in the city, what makes you think you can help them all?"

Her look goes stern, and she gives me a small scowl. I feel like it is towards me, but it isn't. Something else causes her look to harden. "I know, deep down, I can't help everyone, but I can at least try. The size of the task shouldn't scare me, or you."

"I know... I'm sorry."

"You're a good girl, Beatrice. " She wraps her arm around me, "Sometimes you can underestimate the power of a good deed, or the power you can have."

"What power? I'm a ten year old little girl... What can I do?"

"More than you think. Never forget, darling... We can not help everyone, but everyone can help someone."


I know I'm in pain. I have to be.

But the pain is gone.

I try to open my eyes, but the effort I put forth is not rewarded. I can't open my eyes, but do I want to? No, because I like this world of... of... of drugs. I can feel them coursing through my veins and bringing me peace. If only for a moment. And these moments of peace are spent with my mother.

So I surrender to the drugs, letting them whisk me away.


"Why can't I come with you, mother?"

"I'm sorry darling; it's not a good time."

"But it's our work day," I say. Every third Friday of the month, my mother brings me to her work. We've been doing this as long as I can remember. It was supposed to end when I started school, but neither of us could give up our special time together.

"I know, Beatrice, but work is not the best place for a little girl to be right now."

"Why not?"

"Work right now is..." I can see it in her face, she is trying to find the right way of telling me something. It must be really bad, because my mother usually isn't like this. "We have an important - and delicate - case we are working on. And I don't want you to get too wrapped up in it, or get scared from it."

"What's the case you're working on?"

"... All I can tell you is there are bad and powerful people doing bad things."

"Bad things? Why would they do that?"

"Because people, all they are is skin and bone, trained to get along. And sometimes that is not enough. Because they, like everyone else, are a blend of good and bad, not one or the other."

"Both?"

"Yes, my dear. Everyone, even you and me and Caleb and your father, are all full of both good and bad," she tells me. "People make mistakes, but we can not hold it against them forever. And being both good and bad isn't a horrible thing, it reminds us that no one is perfect."

"I just want to go to work with you."

"I know... we have next month, I promise." She kisses my check, "I love you."


I know the drugs are waring off; I can feel the withdraw. But I still can't open my eyes, and I keep them shut as long as I can and try to preserve the image of my mother. My ears, though, haven't shut down completely.

Sometimes, every once in a while, I catch a voice, a word, a phrase. Part of me clings to them, relishing in the real and current world and the people in it. And another part pushes them away. I run away from the present and dwell in the mystical state of drugs that gives me the power to create my world.

A world where I can see my mother again.

But that isn't fair, because she is gone. And I am not the only one who misses her. It feels like it, sometimes, that I am the only one who holds emptiness in her memory.

Before I completely give in to the weight and let go of the present, I feel one person. Tobias. I can't tell if it is real, or if I have already dived out of reality. Nevertheless, his hands cradle my face, while his fingers run along my bruises with an incredible lightness. Like he is healing them with his touch.

His touch. It's a different kind of drug. It calms my nerves and sets them aflame all at the same time. And I don't think he says anything, just stays by my side and holds my hand, kisses my head.

In my last moments before an unconscious blanket falls over me, I hear one thing from him.

I love you, Tris.


"Mom," I say, stirring the pot of spaghetti, "does... does dad love Caleb more than me?"

My mother looks down to me, "Of course not, dear. Why would you ask that?"

"I don't know, he always spends more time with Caleb. And when we are together, it's not like how he is with Caleb, or how he is with you."

"Beatrice, your father loves you."

"He's a good man." But I say it like I am asking a question.

"The best man I've ever met."

I begin to say something, but I hold it in. My mother, being her normal self, notices. "What is it?"

"Would you... tell the story. The story of how you two fell in love?"

"You really enjoy that story, don't you?"

I nod my head. It's not just the story I love. I relish in hearing a story, a real one, about falling in love. It's a magical thing, and I'm so interested because I have never experienced it myself. There is the love of my family. But it is different when you fall in love with someone who came into your life out of nowhere as a stranger, and it grew because you wanted it to. Because you let it.

My parents do love each other, and it is a simple love. Nothing extravagant or rushed. It didn't happen over night, or from the influence of others. But the simplest things in life are the most beautiful. And love is beautiful.

My mother replays the story to me while we finish making dinner.


Out of nowhere, I finally open my eyes.

Everything around me is dull. The walls. The pictures. The machines. I know they are there, but it all feels like a haze has placed itself around me. Everything blurry, everything slow.

I feel like I am part machine, with all the wires and tubes connected to my body. The soft hum of the different machines show their life, and the constant and rhythmic beeping give me something to stay steady with. And then there is the warm hand holding my own.

I slightly squeeze, not having much energy as it is. A dark brown spot shoots up next to me, and my eyes take a second to adjust to the quick change. But I know that face better than any other.

"Tris," Tobias says, exhaustion and relief rolling off his tongue.

I am about to ask a question, but then I realize there are a lot of questions. My mind feels like it is mush. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

I squeeze my eyes, trying to remember the last thing before it all went upside down. Metal. Concrete. Blood. Black. Just then, the door opens and in walks Tori and some doctors.

"Tris," Tori says, rushing next to Tobias, "you're awake, thank god."

"How..."

"You must have a lot of questions," the doctor says. "But before that, I need to make sure you are all right."

"Okay?" I answer.

He, along with the nurse, push Tori and Tobias back. The nurse holds a tray, and one of the things on the tray is a needle. I cringe.

"What... What is that?" I say, and when I say it I hear the heart monitor begin to pick up.

"It is only a painkiller," the nurse tells me. "We've been giving it to you for the past couple of days since you arrived."

I nod tentatively, as she brings the syringe to my arm. I close my eyes and turn away while she plunges it into me. It's not the needle, or the pinch of it entering my skin that scares me. It's the memory that comes with it. The last time a needle like that was put in me, I was in a much different place. And inside the needle wasn't painkillers, it was part of a stimulation.

The doctor pokes around my body, checking my eyes and observing my bruises. Him and the nurse continue to make sure my vitals are fine, and all the while I try to piece together what is happening. Metal. Concrete. Blood. Black. But thinking too hard hurts my head.

They give me the clear, and Tobias and Tori come back next to me. The doctor leaves the room, the nurse staying, and Marissa walks in.

"I'm glad to see you alive," she says.

"What happened?" I ask.

Tobias takes my hand, "Tris, you were hit by a car."

Metal. A car. "I don't remember seeing a car."

"What do you remember?" Tori asks.

"I remember walking... I was walking, and then there was some kind of powerful impact. The car? And then I was on the ground, and then it went black." Something like panic rushes over me, "Someone tried to kill me?"

"Tris, it's okay. You're safe," Marissa says. "There were cameras that captured the whole thing. We already got the guy and he will never hurt you again."

"Who was it?"

"... It was Drew. And Peter was involved."

Too many questions run rapid in my head, but I am having trouble keeping them straight. The room slowly spins, and the weight of my eyes are getting heavy. I need answers, so I ignore my body telling me to rest.

"You must have a lot of questions," Tori says, and I nod my head. "But Tris, you're exhausted. Even if we told you, it's a lot to take in."

The nurse that was in the corner walks up to one of my machines. "Miss Prior needs her rest. Why don't you wait until tomorrow?"

Tori and Marissa both nod. Marissa softly rubs my arm, and Tori kisses my forehead. The two women walk towards the door. Tobias stays in his chair next to my bed still holding my hand.

"Sir," the nurse says, "you can come back tomorrow."

"I'll just be a minute."

The nurse gives a look, but walks out to give us a minute.

"You scared the hell out of me," he says, leaning in close to me. "I thought you would never wake up."

"Wake up? Was I in a coma?"

"Yes. I sat here the whole time waiting for you to open those beautiful eyes. And now that they are open, I don't want them to close again."

"Well, I've got some bad news," I say. "They are heavy and want to close. Nurse's orders."

We laugh, and a dull pain shoots through my chest. "You rest, I'll see you tomorrow."

He kisses me, and I say, "I love you."

"I love you, too."


I dream of my mom; her and I painting together like we used to. I hold on tight to the memory, but give it some space to breath. It's like she didn't leave me, and I know she didn't, but now I can hear her voice more. The one that makes me want to be a better person.

And when I wake the next morning, I can tell there is a difference. My mind is still tired, and my body still hurts. But the room doesn't spin like yesterday, and I can think longer without it hurting too much.

Throughout the morning, I slowly get more and more information. I was hit by a car. I was in a medically endues coma. Everyone responsible for the attack is caught. And Peter got his bail taken away so he is jail.

I go in and out of consciousness throughout this time, and I can't tell if the information is real or if I made it all up. There are many things that I have to distinguish and comb through in my mind because I can't tell if it is all real or not.

Once the afternoon comes, I am getting better at telling the difference between what is real around me and what is created in my mind when I sleep. And whatever chance Tobias can get, he is by my side. He tells me how our friends back home have been calling and texting and tweeting and just about any kind of communication. He says Christina is the worst, threatening to fly out here and see me in person.

Then I hear a knock at the door.

There is a curtain between my bed and the door, so I can't see who is there. Because of the case and its new twist, there are even more reporters than before. Apparently they've been sneaking into the hospital, so the curtain is just to keep some kind of privacy.

Tobias walks to the door, and I catch What are you doing here? But then his voice is too soft for me to hear, and he takes the conversation outside of the room. Moments later though, Tobias walks into the room and treading behind him is Caleb.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I came to see you. And..." Caleb stumbles.

"And what, Caleb? What do you want?"

"To talk."

I sigh. It must be the drugs or the memory of my mother, but either way I say, "Fine."

"Really?" Both Caleb and Tobias say.

I turn to Tobias, "Yeah, just... give us a minute."

"Alright," he says kissing my head.

He leaves and I look at Caleb. After everything we've been through, what could he possibly say? What can I say? The last thing I said to him was I fucking hate you! Not only do I hate him, I fucking hate him. He came in here. He wants to talk. He should say the first thing, because if it has to be me, I'll tell him to leave.

"I'm not going to lay here and just stare at you. If you have something to say, then say. If not, then just go."

"Beatrice…"

"It's Tris, not Beatrice. You would know that if you didn't shut me out," I say bitterly. "Why did you come here, anyway? Your friend is rotting in jail right now; shouldn't you be by his side?"

"I want to talk to you," he rubs the back of his neck. "I'm tired of feeling this horrible guilt every time I look at you."

"Isn't it a little late to feel guilty? It's been over two years."

"I know, and I'm… I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I believe you."

I have waited two and a half years to hear those words. And now that they've been said, I can't believe them. "What changed?"

He doesn't look me in the eyes, and that sends something uneasy through me. "Something Peter said."

My heart drops. "What'd he say?"

"It was during his testimony, when he said he wasn't the only one who… who got in your pants. It doesn't add up with another thing he told me."

"What are you talking about?"

He takes a big sigh, "That night… I thought he saved you."

"Saved me?"

"I went to check on you when I saw your door was cracked open. Normally, you keep it closed, but it was slightly opened. I went to check on you when I walked in and saw Drew on top of you and Eric pinning you down. Peter was there and he helped me beat the hell out of them before they could do anything to you."

"You… You knew about those two? And you didn't tell me?!"

"I thought it was best you didn't know."

Anger builds low and spreads to every part of me. "And what about Peter? What's your explanation for him that night?"

"I thought he saved you. And you were saying awful things about my best friend."

"How would you explain Rose?"

"He said you were both drunk and it just happened. Then Drew and Eric heard and got greedy."

I don't want to talk to him. I feel like I should be angry, but—right now—I don't know how to feel. "So what are you trying to say?"

"I'm sorry. It's just, Peter had me convinced and it…"

"No. Stop, now. That's not an apology; it's a list of excuses. If that is all you have, you can leave now."

"That's not everything." He reaches inside of his pocket and pulls out a flash drive and lays it on my lap. "It took a while, but you convinced me."

"What is it?"

"It's you, singing 'Say Something' in a classroom. Your boyfriend gave it to me after Peter's testimony. After Peter testified, I was feeling skeptical and doubtful of Peter's word. I wanted to talk to you, but he stopped me and gave me it."

I remember that day. And I remember a recording. "I didn't know he did that."

"I figured you didn't. After the video ends, there are some pictures of you. Pictures of your year so far." He takes my hand, "Tris, I am so sorry. I know I did some really shitty thing and I hurt you. But there is nothing I want more than your forgiveness."

Can I forgive him? Can I try to forget something that caused me so much pain? Is that really forgiveness? Or maybe forgiveness is just the continual pushing aside of bitter memories, until time dulls the hurt and the anger, and the wrong is forgiven.

But too much has happened, and I'm not completely ready to forgive him yet.

"I need some time."

"Okay. Call me when you are ready."

He walks out of the room, and it is only then that the exhaustion lays down on me. Tobias walks back in, but I am almost too gone to say anything. He just takes my hand and rubs my arm. This time, I let sleep take me under.


Author's Note

The flashbacks in this chapter were inspired by Tris' time in Erudite Headquarters in Insurgent. And FYI, her mother's job is similar to Kate Beckett (from Castle) mom's old job. Please review!

Be brave, everyone!


QUOTES

1). She's not your little anything. –Insurgent, book

2). Maybe I don't want to do this anymore. / I know, my voice is soft. / I know it's hard. The hardest thing you've had to do. –Insurgent, book both from Insurgent.

There are three (song, book, book) quotes in this chapter.