Chapter Ten
Funerals are a quiet affair in Abnegation, solemn, and you can almost taste the saltiness of tears in the air. But, like crows so clustered that they resemble a black cloud overhead, I can sense a storm brewing in this house.
"Go upstairs," I whisper urgently, shaking Tobias' shoulders. He is frozen in his spot, unmoving, still as a statue. Louder, I say it again, desperate this time as the beast is nearing us, drawing closer, stalking towards us like a predator to his prey.
Hurrying through something about going to check on me, Mama breaks away from Mrs. Black. The woman nods politely and scuttles out the door, leaving us alone in the living room. A heavy slam echoes through the house as the back door closes behind her.
"Go upstairs," Mama barks at Tobias, but he still will not move. Filled with terror, his sapphire eyes are glazed over, like his mind is somewhere else, and his feet stay planted on the ground. Mama and I exchange a glance and simultaneously stand in front of him, hiding him from view.
Coming to a stop in front of us with Andrew hot on his heels, Marcus gives us a subtle smirk, holding a glass pan with food. "For the family of the suffered," he says, voice low and patronizing. Skin clinging to his bones, Marcus has grown thin, and his hair falls low, covering his eyes. He brushes it out of his face, smirking. "May your son be happy… in hell."
Mama's nostrils flare as she snatches the pan from his hands, but she doesn't respond. She is cool, collected, but underneath her skin are veins flowing with white-hot rage. I know this because I am the same, skin boiling with anger — only, I am not so controlled as she.
"You jackass!" I scream, throwing myself in his direction. Mama catches me around the waist, holding me back as I thrash in her arms. My fists are balled up in punching position like Mama taught me, thumb outside so as not to break it, and I am just about ready to bash Marcus' in, wishing I had become strong enough to break out of Mama's grasp in my training. I'm so close…
Mama hisses in my ear, "Careful, Beatrice."
"My, she's swearing like a hooligan," Andrew spits from the shelter behind Marcus' frame. "You've taught her your old ways, I see."
"I've done nothing of the sort," Mama retaliates angrily. Toby, clenching the back of my shirt between his fingers, breathes heavily against my neck. "You've provoked her."
"She's not a caged animal," Marcus answers for my father. "In my faction, we don't use such words, provoked or otherwise."
Mama leers at him. "I've never heard such a selfish claim. Abnegation is neither yours, nor anyone else's alone. Instead, it belongs to us all. It is all of us."
"Watch it," Marcus snaps, nose screwing up, cheekbones rising an inch up his face. "You may have been Dauntless, Natalie Prior, but I still have more experience with my fists." I stop, feeling everything inside of me stop as well. Then it starts back up, blood infused with rage, heart beating with rage, lungs filling with rage. How dare he…
A soft whimper escapes Toby's lips, but it's enough. Marcus' head snaps to him cowering behind me, and a gigantic grin breaks across his face. Noticing this, Mama lunges at him, but Marcus sidesteps her, dropping the glass pan in his hands and letting it shatter onto the wooden floor. He grabs Tobias' face in his rough hands, bunching up the skin on Toby's cheeks in a way that looks excruciatingly painful.
"So this is where you've been," he grins, towering over the boy like the Hub over the city. "I think it's time you come home, son."
"Like hell he will," I hiss, yanking Tobias out of his grasp. Stop, his eyes scream, filled with terror, you'll get hurt. Yet in that moment, I couldn't care less what would happen to me as long as this beautiful, blue-eyed child was safe in my mother's arms, far from this beast.
"Insolent girl!" Marcus roars, balling up his fists. "I'll have you factionless by morning!"
"Like you did to Anna?" I jeer, testing his patience. His face contorts with fury, with secrets tucked in every line, every crevasse, and I sense a story, untold.
His voice is quieter now, a scary kind of anger. "Careful, Beatrice," he growls. Then he turns to Tobias, walking towards him with arms outstretched. "You're coming with me, son."
"Not a chance," Mama interrupts, aiming a swift kick at his stomach. Keeling, he pants heavily, holding his torso up by placing his hands on his knees. After a moment, she smashes his jaw and then his nose, a sickening crack echoing through the house along with the click of her old bones, full of power.
Hovering over his broken body on the floor, she snaps, "This was the last chance, Marcus. You don't want to see what comes next."
Scrambling up with the grace of a pigeon, Marcus storms out of the room, blood spurting from his nose, muttering worse profanities than for which he scolded me. Red liquid spills onto the floor, and I am suddenly glad that we removed the carpet. "I'll be back for my son," he mutters. Who will he come for? He has no son here.
Andrew glares at Mama, but there is sympathy in his eyes. "You've done it now, Natalie," he mutters, stepping on a shard of glass with his hard-heeled shoes. It cracks under the pressure into a hundred pieces. "You've condemned yourself."
"I'm not scared of him," she counters. "I will always be stronger than Marcus Eaton."
"Maybe," he admits, still with eyes of pity. "But he will always be one step ahead of you, Nat." He watches us for a moment before spinning on his heels and following Marcus out like a lost puppy. It is then that I realize, in three years, Andrew never told Marcus about Toby. I shake my head, trying bring the lines of good and evil back into focus. I start to think they will never be clear.
Walking over to the supply closet, I grab a mop and a broom, eyeing the blood and shattered glass on the floor, when Mama takes the tools from my hands. "Go to Tobias," she says, smiling softly. "He needs you. I will take care of this mess and tell everyone outside to go home." Suddenly, I remember that there are at least fifty people gathered in our humble backyard.
My eyes widen. "Do you think…?"
She shakes her head. "No, nobody heard that. I'm sure of it. Now go and calm down Tobias." I nod, handing her the dustpan, and head over to Tobias, dragging him gently by his arm. He's had enough pulling for today, with me and Marcus tugging at him like a rope in tug-of-war, a distinctly Dauntless game that Zeke and Uriah showed us one day for training. It tested our strength, our brawn… of course, Tobias and I teamed up and ended up on our backs, covered in dust, with Zeke and Uriah laughing at us. Then, Mama took them on and beat them, single-handedly. Unsurprising.
I lead him up the stairs, and we burst into my room. Holding back tears, he drops onto the floor, curling into a ball. I walk over to him and plop down beside him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and holding him closer.
"Hey," I whisper soothingly, rubbing his arm. "He's gone now. He's gone."
"I'm so sorry, Bea," he cries, sobbing into my shoulder. I stroke his hair gently, feeling the soft curls wrap around my fingers.
I shake my head. "Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything."
"I'm so weak, so cowardly," he answers, voice broken and quiet. "I couldn't protect you or Mama, stand up to him… I don't deserve to be Dauntless."
"Yes you do," I murmur softly into his ear. "If anyone deserves it, it's you. You are the bravest person I've ever met, okay? Never doubt that."
"It's your brother's funeral, and I'm crying. You're comforting me."
"Ok, first of all, he was your brother, too. Secondly, you saw Marcus. That gives you an excuse to break down. Third, we comfort each other. That's what we do."
He is silent for a moment before whispering, "Why?"
I frown, confused. "Why, what?"
"Why do you love me?" My lips part in shock, and I stare at him.
"Tobias," I say. "Why would you ask me something like that?"
"Because it doesn't make sense," he replies, staring up at me with shining, sapphire eyes. "I'm not lovable. Not capable of being loved. He doesn't love me even though I'm his son, and my mother didn't love me when she was alive. I'm broken, scarred, damaged."
I am silent for a moment. "Did Marcus say those things to you?" He nods. Shaking my head, I ramble quickly, muddling the words together, "I will kill him… for hurting you, for making you think those things about yourself when they are so, so wrong — in fact, they're the opposite. Everyone loves you because you're so damn lovable that it hurts…"
He stops me by laughing softly, tears still streaming down his cheeks. "When did you start swearing so much?"
I shrug. "Sorry. I'll stop."
"Don't," he interrupts, pulling my hair from the elastic so it falls to my waist like a golden waterfall. He runs his fingers through it. "It makes you sound tough. Dauntless."
"Good," I mutter, crossing my arms. "Because I'm not a frickin' sunflower…"
"We'll leave that to the Amity," he finishes, laughing again. The sound makes me smile, because it's really the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.
"You know," I begin, taking his hand. "I never answered your question."
"Oh, I do know. You went off on a rant about why you wanted to kill Marcus instead." I smack his arm.
"Hey!" I whine loudly as he feigns hurt. "I was trying to be nice."
"Yup, so nice. Like a tiny, vicious puppy…"
I hit him one more time. He leans over and kisses my cheek, his wet tears brushing against my skin, to which I respond by pouting. "Shut up," I mutter as he laughs again, throwing his head back. "Just let me talk."
Tobias grows silent, nodding.
He wants to know why I love him… so I will tell him. "Okay, let me think. You've been through so much and still you are the strongest and bravest person I've ever met. You haven't gone to school since you were five but you learn things so quickly that you've already caught up. Your eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue." I blush, and his cheeks match mine. Suddenly, a seriousness settles over the room, and I look up into his beautiful eyes welling up with tears. "I feel braver when I'm around you. You are courageous, selfless, kind, smart, honest… you are everything good in this world. That's why I love you, Toby."
Tobias stares at my face for a moment, first at my eyes, then my nose, then my cheeks, then back at my eyes… and he smiles. He shakes his head at me. "You're incredible, you know that?"
"I do," I answer, giggling. He takes my hand, playing with my fingers, and I scoot closer, leaning my head against his chest. Basking in the silence, I rest and breathe deeply. He smells like oak moss and orange blossom, earthy and floral with a hint of citrus, a scent that envelops me like his arms and takes me to a safe place, a place where my mother is not mopping up blood downstairs. Tobias traces wide circles on the back of my hand with his thumb.
Somehow, despite the loudness of the world around us, we fall asleep in our own silence, the silence that we created for ourselves and for each other.
The knife flies from my fingers and sticks in the man's stomach. I scream and pull at my hair, spinning on my heels.
"You missed!" Mama shouts, jabbing her finger in the direction of the non-fatal wound. Trudging over to me, she grabs a knife. Lining up her body with the target, she throws it in a perfect curve, and the tip sinks into the heart. She turns to me. "You need to be confident, Tris. Use your whole body, not just your hands. Transfer the energy, the power, and imagine the knife hitting the center."
"I'm trying," I wail as she touches my shoulder, flinching away from her grasp. Frustration beats down on me like the six o'clock sun, morning, as I jog over to the target and tear the knife from the wood again. I've already done this a hundred times, and sweat sticks my black clothes to my skin. Tobias, sinking the knife into the center again, smiles at me sympathetically.
Mama's eyes twinkle, and she suddenly looks tired. "I'm going inside to rehydrate. Tobias, help Tris with her stance, will you?" He nods and makes his way over to me as Mama heads inside the house. I groan and drop the knife, burying my face in my hands.
He rubs my back soothingly. "It's okay, Bea. You're so close to the center."
"But that shot wasn't fatal," I retort, bending down to pick up the knife. The long grass wets my hand with dew, and the metal of the weapon is cold against my skin. This early, every feeling is heightened. "And now you are helping me."
"Hey," he gasps, mock-offended. "What's so bad about me?"
"You know that's not what I meant," I say, wiping the watery knife with a cotton cloth. "It's just embarrassing."
"Everyone needs help, Bea-Tris. Remember how embarrassed I was when Zeke showed me the stance?" I giggle, remembering Tobias' beet red face and Zeke's shameless one as he wrapped his arms around him.
"But it helped, didn't it?" I add, finding my grip on the handle. It feels heavy in my hands. "You got it right in the center that time, and every other."
"Yeah, I guess it did."
Taking my stance, I breathe in deeply, trying to feel that surge of power that Mama described. Nothing. My body feels empty, weak, like the knife has the power and not me. Without even trying, I can tell that it won't sink.
"I don't feel it," I whisper, lowering the knife. Tears gather in my eyes, and I wonder — when I stop crying at frustration, will that be the moment I become Dauntless? In this moment, it feels like that will never happen.
Hesitantly, Tobias steps closer to me. "What if…" he starts. "What if I help you?" It takes a moment for me to realize what he is suggesting, and a warm blush spreads across my cheeks.
"Okay," I answer, taking my stance again. Anticipation rises from my skin like goosebumps as I wait. He wraps his arms around me, adjusting my position, my grip, and despite the numerous occasions that he's been this close to me, my heart still hammers in my chest.
"Lean back," he whispers in my ear, leading me. "Then throw yourself forward with the knife, and feel the energy, the momentum, the power. You control the knife, Tris. It doesn't control you." He steps back, but I barely notice; it still feels like he's there. His warmth lingers in the air, and his words ring in my ears. I feel the rush of power to my fingertips, and I surge, letting the knife fly.
It hits the inner circle and sticks. Sure, it's not dead-center, but it's close enough. Splinters form where the knife protrudes from the wood, and the handle wobbles for a second before settling. I stare at the man-shaped target, frozen in my spot, when I realize what I've done. It's a good shot, great even.
A fatal wound.
I turn around and throw my arms around Tobias, and he lifts me off the ground, laughing. "I did it!" I yell, kicking my feet in the air. His laughs are loud in my ears, beautiful, hearty laughs, and his scent surrounds me again, comforting like the smell of the fireplace back when Mama, Caleb, Papa and I would sit in the living room, back when Papa wasn't a monster and Caleb wasn't gone… but those days are over, and now Tobias and Mama are my only comforts.
"You did," he says, hugging me close as he sets me back on my tiptoes. "I told you you could."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mama watching us from the window, a glass of water in her hand and a huge smile on her face. Suddenly, the curtain falls, blocking her from my view, and I squeeze Tobias tighter. "I did it," I breathe, planting my feet fully on the ground. His arms withdraw.
The door opens, and Mama steps out, looking innocent as a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. She makes her way to us, eyeing the target. "Good job, Beatrice," she congratulates, patting my back. "Now, I think it's time we move on."
"To what?" Tobias says, pulling the knives from his target: five, dead-center. "Are we learning more combat techniques?"
"Or maybe some shooting?" I ask hopefully, batting my eyelashes. Mama shakes her head, giving me a look.
"I told you, Tris, no shooting until you're thirteen. And Tobias, I think you've done enough physical combat. You just might be able to take me."
"So what is it?" I pry, helping Tobias take down the targets. We usually hide them in the shed so no one sees them, since we do our training in our backyard.
Mama grins as she tucks the knives away. "It's time to move onto Stage Two."
"Stage Two?" Tobias kicks down another target. "What's that?"
"You remember how I told you that Dauntless initiation in comprised of three stages?" We nod our heads, curious. "Well, the first stage is knives, guns, and combat. It's all physical, the kind of thing you've been training to do for three years. But the second stage is mental, and you can't prepare for it. Not the same way."
I frown. "So why are you telling us, then?"
"Because," Mama continues, "I'm afraid for the two of you."
"Why are you afraid?"
She hesitates. "There's something that I need to tell the both of you. But you must promise that these words will never leave the three of us, that you will not utter a word of this to any of your friends, now or ever."
"Of course," Tobias promises. "I solemnly swear."
"Me too," I add. "Cross my heart."
Mama leans in real close, and we do, too. Tobias' ear brushes mine, and Mama's eyes look really big from here. She takes our hands, and Tobias takes one of mine, and we are all joined together.
"My darlings," she begins. "There's a good chance that you too might be… different from others. Not in a bad way, but in a way that is dangerous. There's a word for it, but you cannot say it out loud. Ever."
"What kind of different?" I ask, heart battering.
She takes a deep breath. "You could be… divergent."