Abnegation has fifteen new initiates this year. Eleven Abnegation born, two transfers from Amity, one from Candor, one from Erudite. We all meet at the community center, where they are presented with gray robes. I study them as Marcus welcomes them to the faction and think there should be sixteen. I force myself to think about anything but Marcus's words. I believe in the ideas he talks about: giving ourselves to the greater good, putting the needs of others above our own so our society may thrive, but I can't stomach his hypocrisy, the way he is a model of selflessness by day and a monster by night. Instead of watching Marcus, I watch our new initiates. Even though they're all dressed alike, I can easily tell who the transfers are. The Candor boy never lowers his head, never takes his eyes off Marcus. The girl from Erudite is taking notes. Part of me wants to hate them for trying to take Caleb's place, but I shake that off. Choosing your faction doesn't mean someone else doesn't get a spot.

The faction tradition is for the members to prepare the first meal after the Choosing Ceremony, and the initiates take care of the dishes and cleanup. A few months ago I was asked to mentor the new initiates, and I agreed in a second because I was so sure Caleb would be part of the group. Today, I wish I'd never said yes. I've brought a crate of vegetables from the garden, tomatoes and lettuce and zucchini I grew for Caleb. I keep my head down as I chop them into a salad, but I still nearly slice my finger because I can't concentrate.

Susan approaches me in the kitchen area. "Tobias, are you okay?"

Now is not the time for me to tell her the truth, but I also wish she could hear the thoughts I can't say aloud. I am not okay. I have never felt so alone. Caleb is gone. In a way, I am all right with that because I know I can't begrudge him his choice. Selfishly, all I can think is that I have lost a part of myself.

Susan is one of the last good things in my life. I need to protect her for now. "Yes."

She knows I'm hiding something. I can tell from the look on her face that she wants to challenge me. I feel my throat closing and look down. "I'm…not now, okay?" I lay the knife on the table. "I don't want to talk about it."

Picking up the knife, Susan takes over chopping vegetables. "You don't have to. But if you want to, maybe tomorrow or the day after that, you know I'm here to listen."

"I didn't think he would leave." The words are out before I can stop myself. "He…I thought he loved Abnegation. He was so… How did I not see it?"

Susan looks sympathetic, and that only makes me feel worse. "Never mind," I say. "I just…" There's a stack of clean plates on the counter near the sink. Good excuse for an escape. "I'll put these out."

The other members and I serve lunch, and I end up sitting next to the Candor boy. He smiles at me as I take my seat.

"Hello," he says. Maybe he knows more about what it means to be Abnegation than I think he does, because he doesn't offer me his hand to shake the way a Candor would. "I'm Malcolm Sterling."

I don't want to talk to him, but I can't be selfish. I've been tasked with training our new initiates, and it's not fair to hold back because I can't stop thinking about Caleb. "Tobias Eaton," I reply, nodding.

"You're one of the initiate trainers, right?"

"Guides," I correct him. "Selflessness is who you are, not something you're trained to be. Isn't that why you chose this faction?" He hasn't been in Abnegation long enough to have learned not to talk about himself. Asking him questions will keep him busy.

"Oh. Yes. Of course. You grew up here, right?" That Candor earnestness is on full display. He's completely focused on me, really wants to know the answer. And I really don't feel like talking about it.

I deflect. "Why did you choose Abnegation?"

Malcolm hesitates. I'm not sure if it's because I so obviously avoided his question or because he needs to put his thoughts together. Then he shrugs. "I like helping people. I used to volunteer every Sunday at the religious services we held in Candor and tutor some of the younger kids after school. We even had this family of cats that lived near Candor, and I liked to bring them food. It just…feels good. It feels right. Like when I'm helping others, I'm where I belong." Then he looks alarmed. "Wait, that's not selfish of me to say, is it? That I came here because helping others makes me feel good?"

He sounds just like Caleb did last night…was it only last night?… in my bed. My appetite disappears. I push my plate away. "No," I say. I take a deep breath. "I don't think feelings are selfish. Not if they bring you to a place that helps you make others' lives better through your service."

"Okay." He looks relieved. I keep him occupied with questions for the rest of lunch. "Are you done?" he asks at the end, noticing that I haven't touched my food. "I can take your plate."

"Yes, I'm done. Thank you," I say.

"Don't laugh," he says as he picks up both our plates, "but this is the best salad I think I've ever had. I don't know what it is, but the tomatoes were so…ripe? Fresh? I'm not sure. They just tasted really good."

Any other day, I would be pleased by his comment. I often give extra food and herbs to our neighbors, and they're always grateful for it. Right now, however, I can only think of how it should be Caleb eating that salad. My first instinct is to claim ignorance about the origin of the tomatoes. They weren't for him. He's not supposed to have eaten them and definitely not supposed to have enjoyed them. They were for Caleb. I am here for Caleb. Malcolm might belong here, might have chosen Abnegation of his own free will, but he will never be, can never be, Caleb. I force a deep breath in through my nose, hold it for a count of four, and exhale. I'm not being fair to Malcolm. He doesn't know. Breathe in. Maybe he'll want a garden of his own. Hold for four.

When I breathe out, I say, "I grew them."

"Really?" He looks impressed. "I've never tried growing food. We had a coleus that grew in our kitchen window back in Candor, but that's the only plant I've ever had. It got pretty big for a coleus, though. Took up the whole window and grew these little purple flowers."

"Maybe next spring you could start your own garden." Breathe in. "I could bring you some seeds and plant clippings." He could grow food for himself and his neighbors, bring something good to Abnegation. Breathe out. "Amity will send you seeds and supplies if you ask for them, too." I lower my head and bite the inside of my cheek as he collects the dirty dishes. I can't allow what I wanted for Caleb to get in the way of teaching Malcolm and the other initiates. I need to accept that Caleb chose a different faction and make the best of what I have here.

He nods. "That sounds good. I'd like to try."

I look around the room. No one but me seems to notice that Caleb is gone. They're completely focused on serving and cleanup, and later today they'll completely focus on their newest community service project. They'll turn away from their own feelings. That aspect of Abnegation life has never fit me, but maybe it's one I should try to embrace. Maybe I can become who I am supposed to be without dedicating myself solely to Caleb and his safety.

Tomorrow, I am going to tell Susan that I want to volunteer with her. Just us, like she wanted. Caleb is Dauntless now. Our lives may never intersect again. If that's the case, I will need Susan and Robert more than ever. When people lose family members from other factions to death, we are told to take comfort in our faction, our chosen family.

Faction before blood. Yet another thing I will tell myself until I believe it.

The sound of Marcus closing the front door after we return home that evening is nearly deafening. Already the house is quieter with Caleb gone. Some life has drained from it. I step into the dining room. Sunlight slants over the table, illuminating waves of dust particles. Dust I will have to clean. I cannot live here anymore, not with pieces of Caleb's life everywhere: the extra chair at the table, the empty bedroom, the board games. The vegetable garden in the back yard.

I feel as empty inside as the house is. There are no thoughts in my head for once. I am numb, like my entire body is frostbitten. I can't feel my heartbeat.

I caused this emptiness. I failed. In giving Caleb the freedom to choose, I sacrificed the only joy in this house.

Marcus and I stand in the dining room facing each other for what feels like forever. We say nothing. We may never say anything to the other again. I would be all right with this if the silence weren't a constant reminder that Caleb is not here to fill it.

After dinner, which I barely remember making, I close the windows and draw the curtains. The rest of Abnegation disappears. The darkness weighing on the silence makes me feel like I am alone in the world, not just in the house, with Marcus.

I'm still standing in front of the last closed curtain when Marcus grabs me by the back of my shirt and slams me into the wall beside the front door. He is bigger than me and surprisingly strong, but I have age and speed and the ability to endure pain on my side. I take a fist to my cheek, a knee to my stomach. If he's going to hit me where others will be able to see the injury, I won't hold back. I strike and kick and scream. I won't give him the chance to come at me with his belt or a broken glass or whatever else he can grab. We grapple against the wall, then on the floor. White stars flash in my eyes when I jerk my head back against his nose. He throws me into the dining room table. I knock over two chairs, landing on my back. I take a second too long to get up, and he presses the sole of his shoe against my throat.

"Caleb is dead to us," he snarls. "He chose Dauntless over you. And if you ever so much as think about trying to communicate with him or see him, this will be the best of what happens to you." He takes his foot off my neck and kicks me hard in the side. It feels like my stomach and head and lungs explode simultaneously. I can't move, and I pray he doesn't go for another kick.

"He was the one this faction deserved," he says as I try to pull away. "At your best, you will never be half as selfless as he was."

That's the last thing I hear before I lose consciousness.

I wake sometime in the middle of the night and stumble to bed, not even bothering to brush my teeth. The next morning, I can barely dress myself for the pain and my stiff muscles. Putting on my tight undershirt is excruciating. I press at my side as much as I can bear, trying to determine if Marcus cracked one of my ribs. Dressing takes me so long I barely have time for breakfast.

Marcus is already at the table. It's set for two, but my plate is empty.

"Why don't you have a seat, Tobias?" He gestures to my chair like nothing happened last night, like this is just another unremarkable day that will start with an unremarkable breakfast.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Sit!" he shouts, pointing to my chair.

He cannot break me.

"If I don't, will you hit me?" I ask. I never defy Marcus like this, and for a second I believe that's exactly what he will do. But he just watches as I make my way into the kitchen and spread peanut butter onto a slice of bread, not even bothering to toast it first. I eat it standing in front of the sink. Talking back to Marcus is an invitation to another beating, but at this point, it would hardly make a difference. Let him break every one of my bones. Let him bruise me. Caleb is free. That knowledge is my anchor. Whatever happens to me, I succeeded in my plan.

I am in too much pain to go to Susan's house that evening. When my service hours have ended for the day, I make my way to the small clinic that serves Abnegation's less immediate medical needs. I take two rolls of gauze and four of medical tape. It's probably only enough to last a couple of days, but I can't get more right now, not without being asked questions. The Erudite doctor on duty accepts my request for pain medication when I complain of a pounding headache. I have to sign for the medication, but I make sure my signature is illegible. The one pill I take when I get home dulls me enough to make dinner and water the garden. I hide the rest inside my pillowcase. I'll have to ration them until I'm healed enough to resume my regular physical activities.

I take another pill just before I lie down to sleep that night and wish more than anything that I could talk to Caleb about everything I feel. If I didn't run the risk of being shot for walking through their front doors, I might even go so far as to try to figure out where Dauntless is, just so I could talk to him. I'm friendly with other Abnegation but not really friends with them save for Susan. Giving her this knowledge could put her and the rest of the faction in danger. Even if Caleb didn't know what to tell me right now, he'd listen. If Dauntless would let him.