Author's note: This is the only chapter I have written in Tris's perspective – I wanted to try out a different POV, so I don't know how well it worked out. I'm probably going to stick to Tobias's but if you could let me know how I did in Tris's vs. Tobias's, that would be SO helpful! Thank you :)
My mind awakens but my eyes remain closed. A fleeting thought floats through my mind, that if I keep my eyes closed, maybe I can suppress the pain that is already throbbing, aching, demanding my attention. And just as that thought begins to sink, a new one swims up. Not a thought, though; a face. A pair of eyes, a deep and concerned blue, eyebrows blurred but twisted in concern, backing away, away. Four. My eyes shoot open.
"Tris?" I hear Christina's voice, worried. "Are you okay?"
"What does it look like to you?" I sputter out, my voice trembling. And I know it is not just from the pain.
"Well, I know you're not okay. The nurse made us go back to the dormitories last night at 10. We've been in here for two hours now," she says, flipping her wrist to indicate Will who is sitting opposite of her.
"You look pretty Dauntless now, Stiff," Will teases, his joking smile shaded ever so slightly by the apprehension evident in the crease between his blonde brows.
"Seriously, though - are you okay? Do you remember what happened? The nurse said you might have trouble remembering-"
Will cuts off Christina, "Due to a minor concussion."
"What's there to remember? Peter beat the crap out of me," I state, trying not to let the fear of seeing him creep into my already shaky voice. But then... there is something I don't remember. "How did I get here?"
Will and Christina exchange a glance that I can't quite read. Confusion? Secrecy? What is there to hide?
"Well," Christina starts, hesitating. "Peter kicked you hard in the side. You shrieked, and then went limp. Then..." she trails off.
Will picks up for her. "Then Four slammed the door open, called out, 'Enough!', and Eric told us all to leave. Christina and I tried to stay, but when we couldn't, we kind of hung back. That's when we saw Four carrying you to the nurse." Confusion settles on Will's normally playful features, as though he cannot piece together in his Erudite mind why Four - our daunting instructor - would end the fight and personally escort me to the nurse's office. Frankly, I can't either. I want to. I need to.
"Do you think you could help me sit up?" I ask.
Christina gives me a doubting glance. "I don't think that's a great idea. The nurse said you should stay here for the day..."
"Well I think we both know that's not happening," I reply, already pushing down on the mattress with my elbows to hoist my body weight up. And everything screams inside of me, demanding to be heard, felt, pained. "Besides," I wince. "I need to use the bathroom." I don't need to use the bathroom. They don't need to know that.
Christina grabs under my shoulder and Will stands up to steady my other side. When my feet make contact with the linoleum, I let out a hiccup of a yelp.
"Tris," Christina starts, but I interject.
"I'm fine, really. And no helping me once I'm out the door. That's all I need Peter to see."
Will and Christina swap another glance, but I am too busy to read more into it. My first few steps are excruciating and fire courses through my ribcage, my thigh, my jaw. My eardrums are overcome by crashing waves. When I reach the doorway, Christina steps forward again and says, "I'll go with you."
"Christina," I groan. Then I decide to take another approach. I try to perk up my voice, most likely unsuccessfully, and request, "Could you bring me back some food from the cafeteria? I'm starving!"
This seems to work, as the sides of her mouth creep their way into a smile. "Sure," she replies.
I limp out, squinting to adjust my eyes to the relative daylight. It must be breakfast hour, as the halls are full of shadows from lights instead of shadows from Dauntless clothing. I use the wall as support and make my way down the hallway, not toward the bathroom, not toward the initiate dormitories, but in search of deep blue eyes.
I turn the corner and notice a group of transfers staring at me. I must look worse than I thought. When I reach the water fountain, I realize I don't know where I am going or what I am doing. I halt, inhale a shallow breath, and my eyes shut. What are you going to say, Tris? Thanks for not letting me die? Thanks for finding the fight intriguing enough to come back and finish watching? He was doing his job, nothing more. I feel heat rush to my cheeks, and my heel swivels too abruptly, causing my face to contort into a grimace. No. I will not do this. I retrace my steps back down the hallway and to my dorm, and try to unburn the searing image of deep blue eyes from my mind.