Chapter Twenty

Cold warms me, the churning water of the deadly fissure soaking my pants and sticking them to my skin; it's already warmer than the inside of my body, where ice practically holds me together, fills the deep emptiness that I can't help but be engulfed by for no reason other than something has changed inside of me, and I don't know what it is. I had thought that letting go of Tobias would free my shackled heart and rid me of this… hollowness that has been constantly present for the last five years. I didn't complain before, because it helped me to withstand the hell and torture I was going through, but now I am free. Now I don't need it.

But it's still there, and I don't know how to get rid of it.

I pick at the fresh red petals of a rose, tossing them one by one into the chasm's mouth until I realize what I'm doing and drop the rose like I've been burned. Every time I come out here, I find a red rose left on the walkway. Murmuring a soft apology to the flower, I cross my arms across my chest and tuck my hands under my armpits, as though that will stop them from causing harm.

Maybe someday I'll know better.

As the water sputters against my legs, leaving little bruises from its raw force, I close my eyes and lean against the railing. My body protests the cold metal against my warm chin, but I ignore it, letting it drain the warmth from my skin despite the tiny convulsions of my spine. Suddenly, there are eyes on me. A frown marks my face, and my eyelids flutter open.

"You're very quiet," I call out sarcastically, startling the boy behind me.

"I must not be," Uriah replies, "if you heard me over all this noise."

"The chasm certainly is loud. It makes you wonder if the symbolism is worth all the fuss."

He sits down beside me, shaking his head. "I wasn't talking about the chasm."

I blink. "Oh."

"I can practically hear the gears turning in your head," he mocks, rustling my hair. "Got a lot on your mind, little sis?"

"You could say that," I whisper. His smile fades, and his playful eyes turn concerned. Arms snaking around my shoulders, he tucks my head into the crook of his neck and sighs into my hair.

"Who do I need to punch?" he comforts, the quiet tone to his voice almost comically juxtaposing his words.

"Someone you don't want to," I reply.

"Why? Is it someone bigger than me? My brother?" he pauses. "By the way, those were two totally separate things, because you know how small my brother is. I think you might actually be taller than him now, and I've been taller since I was like nine, and Tobias has always—"

"Uriah," I warn.

"Oh," he replies, understanding illuminating his face in the dim light. "Tobias… Do I need to punch Tobias? I certainly don't want to… I mean because he's like my brother, not because he's stronger or bigger or anything and certainly not because I'm scared of him because I'm not and—"

"Uriah!"

He stops, taking an amusingly large breath of air before sheepishly muttering, "Sorry."

"Whatever," I retort, rolling my eyes. "But to answer your question, no. It's not Tobias you need to punch — it's me."

His eyebrows furrow, and he tugs me closer. "You know I won't do that. Why?"

I pull away just enough so that I can see his face. "Your brother came to talk to me today. Well, yesterday, technically."

"What did he say?"

"Just that I've been a bitch lately. Nothing I didn't already know."

He pokes my nose, making me giggle sadly. "So what's got you so worked up, Trissy?"

I glare at him, and he holds his hands up mock-playfully. We settle down, and I pick at the peeling bandage wrapped around my palm. "I spoke to Tobias yesterday. Well, not really. I kind of just yelled at him and then… I decided that I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean you can't do this anymore?" he exclaims, jaw clenching.

I gnaw on my lip. "I can't do this — going back and forth between thinking I can forgive him and knowing I can't. It's exhausting, Uri. More exhausting than training through the pain of a thousand years of abuse."

His eyes well up, and when he speaks, it's through what sounds like a knot the size of a tennis ball. "I hate that you went through all of that. I hate that I couldn't do anything."

I sigh. "I hate that I can't just forget that it ever happened and move forward. It's everywhere, Uriah. Everywhere."

He stills completely, his arms locking around me like a comforting cage. His gaze meets mine, complete, aware, like he knows the secrets of the universe.

"I get it now," he says. "I understand why you're shutting him out. He reminds you of your past, of everything that happened to you. All the pain, all the screaming and nightmares and hiding while people die…"

"I can't make excuses," I croak, swallowing my tears. "I'm not going to. I'm not a good person, Uriah. I hurt him, I led him on, I told him everything would be okay…"

"Tris—"

"…when nothing's okay and I'm so selfish and I lied to him, I lied to you and to Zeke and especially to Christina…"

"Beatrice Prior!" he yells, grabbing a hold of my shoulder. I stop rambling, holding onto his arms and taking long, shaky breaths.

"I'm not a good person," I repeat quietly to myself.

"Then change," Uriah replies. He doesn't try to comfort me, or tell me that what I've said isn't true, yet somehow it's the only right thing to say. We meet eyes, and I nod slowly.

"Okay."

After a moment of silence, he speaks again. "You don't have to forgive him to change, you know."

After another moment of silence, I reply. "I know."

"Are you going to?"

I hesitate. "I…"

"Tris, you don't have to forgive him, but you do have to make a choice."

I swallow loudly again and turn away from him, staring into the eyes of the abyss. "That's just it, Uriah — I think I already made that choice. I just don't know if I like what I chose."

He puts his hand on top of mine. "Unfortunately, Tris, I think what's done is done. Even Tobias will have had enough eventually, and I think this is it. Whatever you chose…"

"I'm going to have to live with it," I finish. We sit for another moment, and the silence of it tells Uriah all he needs to know about what my decision was. He sighs, retracting his hand, but keeps one arm around me.

"I won't say I agree," he concludes, "but I will say that I understand."

I nod, and he stands up, offering me his hand. As I take it, something occurs to me. "How did you know I was here?" I ask him.

"I didn't," he replies.

"Then why—"

"I've got some choices to make, too, and this is prime thinking real estate." He sighs, rubbing his temples.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"Not right now, but soon," he promises, smiling his half-smile.

"Ok," I agree, knowing he'll come to me when he's ready. He squeezes my hand before dropping it and waves before walking away in the direction of the Dauntless-born dorms. Before he gets too far, I call out his name, and he turns around.

"Just some advice for those choices you need to make?" I begin, leaning against the cold rails of the chasm. "Be careful, Uriah."

He nods solemnly, and then he's gone, and I'm left alone again, the noise of the chasm drowning in that of my thoughts.

Careful, Tris.

The next morning is the same as the last, except this time it is Eric who wakes us up by banging on the railings, and this time there is no Tobias waiting for me with breakfast when I leave the shower to an empty dormitory. This time, I don't have time to eat something before training, and this time, we do hand-to-hat combat instead of fitness trials.

So, really, the second morning is nothing like the first, except for the fact that we all wake up to the same cold, rusted ceiling over our heads in the same cold, obnoxious manner and shower in the same cold, excruciating water.

Then again, it was me who asked for change.

By the time training ends, my stomach is convulsing in a way that levels the pain in my back from when Eric kicked my knees out from underneath me and I landed on the cement. Maybe I could take on any one of the initiates and win, with the exception of maybe Edward who's been training for just as long, if not longer, but Eric is a different story — he's seasoned, strong, but most of all, cruel. All the same, whenever I look at him, all I can think about is Tobias telling me that he's not a bad man.

Eric is a curious fellow, and that's all I really know about him.

As the initiates file out of the training room for the dining hall, Christina wipes the sweat off her forehead and wrings out her shirt. "I think we might need to go shopping later today," she jokes, motioning to her ruined outfit. "Combat does a number on fashion."

"I think that's a good idea," a voice replies — not mine, but Tobias'. Christina's eyes widen as she stares at him, and his lips turn up oh-so-slightly at the corners. "Head down to the Pit after your first fights and explore. That's the way of Dauntless, after all."

Christina nods quickly, almost resembling a puppet, and if I wasn't so uncomfortable, I would laugh. "Thanks for the advice, sir," she replies — I can tell she's still terrified of him from the first day. Maybe rightly so.

"You should eat lunch before the fights. Something light, of course," Tobias advises. "I'll send Tris your way in a moment."

She nods again, still wide-eyed, and scurries out of the room, leaving me with him. I face him, crossing my arms over my chest. "What is it, Four?"

"The tapes are frozen. It's weird hearing you call me Four," he confesses. "But don't worry, Tris, I'm not here to change your mind. Not about yesterday."

I bite my lip. "You know, I never actually said anything." You're treading on thin ice, Tris, I hear Uriah say in my mind.

"You didn't have to," he replies, but there's still hope in his voice. He wants me to confirm or deny… so I nod.

"You're right," I finish. "I didn't have to."

That's that.

He visibly deflates, but covers it up with a cough. "I already told you, that's not what I asked you to stay for."

"Then what?"

"Your hair," he says. "You need to get it cut."

I reel back, clutching my hair in my hands. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Tobias…" I collect myself. "You know I haven't had anyone to cut it since…"

"Yes, I know," he replies, eyes softening for only a moment. "But you're in Dauntless now, and there are shops for that sort of thing, people who will do it—"

"No! I won't let anyone else…" I trail off before I can fall in too deep.

"You know I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't have to. Especially because of… but it's too dangerous here to have hair that long. Someone could use it against you in a fight."

"I could tie it up."

"It wouldn't matter," he concludes. "You don't know how ruthless these fights get, especially when the stakes are as high as they are. These initiates may be your friends, but Dauntless fights bring out the worst in people. You've never seen one."

"No, I haven't," I agree. "But, Tobias, you know I've seen worse." He stumbles back, catching himself on a tattered punching bag that blends right in with his t-shirt.

With the following flash of emotion in his eyes forever ingrained in my memory, I turn on my heel and walk out the door, wishing that I didn't have to turn around and walk right back.

After lunch, on our way back to the training room, all the initiates walk together in a sort of nebulous cluster. Christina asks me who I think I'll be paired up with for the first fights. I look around, eyes landing on each individual as I remember the conversation I had with Tobias, but I can't come up with even a guess. On one hand, Tobias could try to give me someone easy, someone he knows I can beat, but on the other hand, he knows I could take even some of the best of us. Plus, I've been itching to punch Peter since he did the same to me when I was seven.

"Could be anyone," I reply.

Honestly, no matter who I get paired with, I just want to fight. I want to prove to these people that I'm strong, that I've trained, that I'm going to make it here, and this is how I'm going to do it… so imagine my disappointment when we arrive and the board tells me that I'm sitting out.

Tobias catches my eye from across the room, but looks away just as quickly. Blood boils beneath my skin as I take my place on the bench while the first pair takes to the ring in the center of the room.

"Ugh, Tris, you're so lucky! I have to fight The Tank, and you get to sit out! Man, I wish I didn't have to…" Christina rambles on in my ear, and I tune her out, nodding whenever she pauses and inserting random head nods. Instead, I watch the others fight, examining their strategies, their weaknesses, the angles of their bodies as they throw punches and kicks.

When it's Christina's turn to fight, she forfeits in the first thirty seconds. It's the shortest fight logged so far, and honestly, I'm not surprised when Eric drags her out to the chasm and makes her hang onto the rails. I am surprised, however, at what he does next.

"She's slipping!" Lark cries out, lunging forward to grab her. Eric juts out his arm, trapping the Amity behind him. I can see the tears streaming down Lark's face, but I'm all the way on the other side, so I can't even comfort him.

Everyone else's eyes are locked on Christina, except for mine. Mine are fixed on the stopwatch in Eric's hand. It's down to four minutes, one left.

Christina is about five seconds away from falling to her death, still with sixty left to hang, when Eric clears the face of the watch and clicks it manually, faking the end of five minutes. No one notices, too fixated on Christina's feat, except for me.

"Time's up, initiate," he calls out, withdrawing his arm and letting Lark through to help her up. Edward rushes forward too, helping the small boy lift her from the rails. I don't move, shocked still. Maybe ruthless Eric isn't so ruthless. He grabs Christina's shoulders a little too tightly and glares into her soul. "Next time it's ten, got it?"

She nods violently and shakes in her boots, both from heart-wrenching fear and from the cold of wet clothes sticking to her skin.

Eric smirks before it turns into a glare at the other initiates. "What are you gawking at? Go finish your fights!" They turns and scramble, pawing at each other to escape first, and soon it's just Eric and I left. My eyes meet his, and they can't help but convey some of my disbelief.

He glowers at me, shaking his head. "You like to stay behind places, don't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snap.

"It means that you and Four have an awful lot of discussions about your technique. Are you sure you aren't being… favoured?" Bile rises in my throat at the suggestive tone in his voice, and I look away from him, composing myself. It seems I was wrong about him being decent after all.

"Quite sure, sir. Four is probably just concerned, seeing as I'm such a weak Stiff."

Eric analyzes me, looking me up and down for a moment. "Hmm. Maybe that's all it is." He narrows his eyes. "Go back to training, initiate."

So I do, and without hesitation.

"Where is this coming from? Not that I'm complaining. It's just you've never really been the shopping kind of girl," Christina comments happily as we stroll through the Pit. She had recovered from the incident just about immediately after I mentioned that I wanted to go shopping after fights.

"Just what you said after combat training, you know, that we should get some more practical workout clothes," I reply, conveniently forgetting to mention Tobias.

"Excuse me, I never said we needed practical clothes, just that we needed clothes. Now come with me, we're going dress shopping." She hauls me from store to store for the next few hours, until I finally make the excuse of going to do some of my own shopping and escape.

It only takes me a few minutes to find the hair salon.

The inside isn't crowded; in fact, the place is almost empty. I see some Dauntless-born initiates in the corner getting colours put into their hair, one woman with a mane the colour of an unripe banana, and some workers with just as creative dos. One comes up to me, a woman of around twenty, and pulls me into a soft black chair in front of a mirror. I tell her quickly what I want and she sets to work.

"Transfer, right?" she guesses, chewing loudly on something and pulling out a pair of scissors. I confirm between clicks of her jaw.

"How did you know?"

"One hint was that your hair is longer than anything I've ever seen here in Dauntless. Seriously, it's past your waist! You must have been Amity. Am I right?"

"Abnegation, actually."

She curses loudly, and then laughs. "Of course you are. Shoulda guessed — you keep looking away from that mirror right there." She picks up the scissors, and I wince. Her eyes soften. "There a reason you been growing this here mop?"

"My… my mother used to cut my hair."

"Ah. She not coming to see ya on Visiting Day?"

"No, definitely not," I reply, swallowing loudly. "She, uh, she died a couple years back."

Her hand stills, and she places a hand on my shoulder, meeting my eyes in the mirror. "Thanks for letting me cut your hair today. I lost my father when I was a little one, so I can imagine how much this means to ya."

I smile at her gently, and she walks me through the process, letting me know whenever she's going to cut. Eventually, I stop looking in the mirror and just stare at the floor, watching the golden locks gather on the tiles. Finally, once she's finished, I look up into the mirror. My hair, which was once down to my waist, now extends to just past the gentle curve of my chest. There are no bright colours, no extreme designs. It's just my hair, like it used to be.

I don't gasp, laugh, or cry when I see my face again. I don't grasp for the hair where it's not or run my fingers through it. I just stare, the smallest hint of a smile on my face; maybe I've lost something bigger than a foot or two of hair, like the last connection I had to my mother, but I have gained the ability to move on. Because if I can let go of her, then I can let go of everything.

As I stare unabashedly in the mirror, I don't even pause to think about whether or not that's a good thing.

A/N: I've got some exciting news... there's a spin-off to this story in the works! In a couple of chapters, I'll announce the name and summary of the new story! In other news, that's the end of this chapter. What do you guys think? I hope you enjoyed! Special thanks to those who read and reviewed the last chapter, as well as this one, and to anyone who followed/favourited me or this story. Also, I just realized that this is the first post of the year, so HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! May your 2019 be the best year you've ever had.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to know: what do you want to see next? I have a plan, but I'd love to incorporate some of your ideas. Let me know!

Lots of love as always, theartlessrose