Chapter 4: Tobias – Confrontation
Peter is sitting on his bed, with more emotion on his face than I've ever seen. He must have lost someone in the attack. I try to find some sympathy inside me for this boy who saved Tris' life, but all I can see is him holding her by the throat, dangling her over the chasm, and then opening his hands and letting her fall. I take a deep breath to clear the image.
"What?" he asks, looking up at me with his usual false innocence, and I grit my teeth even more. If he had any idea how much that expression reminds me of my father, he wouldn't dare wear it. Or maybe he would, just to irritate me. He is Peter, after all.
"I have a question for you," I say firmly, "and I suggest you answer it honestly. It'll be much easier for you that way."
He narrows his eyes and surveys me with a calculating look.
"The way I hear it," he comments, "you're a traitor. Seems like I'd be better off not helping you with anything."
"In that case, you should definitely answer my question, because the answer will probably cause me trouble."
He hesitates a moment, but I must have piqued his curiosity, because then he says, "Fine. What's the question?"
"Who helped you with Tris' heart monitor?"
Peter smiles, the greedy look of someone who knows his information is valuable.
"Hmm, well, as you know, I only help people if I owe them something or if they have something I want, and you and I are even. So, what are you going to give me?"
"How about the continued use of all your limbs?" I ask coldly, but he looks unfazed.
"Sure, go ahead and attack me in a room full of people you betrayed. Let's see how that goes."
For a few seconds, I glare at him, but I know he's right. This isn't the time or place to draw attention to myself.
"Fine," I snap. "What do you want?"
He thinks about this for an infuriatingly long time before saying, "Nothing you have to offer. So, I think I'll just hold onto that information for now and see if you come up with anything." He smiles, and my hands ball into fists automatically.
"In case you haven't noticed," I hiss, "my mother is in charge of the whole city right now. I can help you and your family." But his face twitches at the statement, and I realize I've said the wrong thing. With a sick feeling, I remember that he transferred from Candor. His family must have been activated by Jeanine, along with all the others, and we shot our way through them to get into this building. That's who he lost.
I draw back, evaluating Peter, trying to think of another approach. But his way of thinking is just too foreign to me, and nothing comes to mind.
"Have it your way," I snarl, turning toward the door. I'm going to have to try talking to Caleb again; perhaps I'll be able to read him better this time, now that I'm not so distracted by Tris' words.
But I must be more distracted than I realize, because I don't notice how the others in the room have shifted around me until I'm surrounded. They don't move to attack, but they form a menacing wall that blocks my exit. This isn't good.
And then Tori makes her way through them, limping heavily but looking even fiercer for it. She walks up to me, too close, and shoves me hard in the chest. I make no attempt to defend myself. Her blow is not undeserved, after all, and it's probably better if she gets it out of her system.
"I always knew you weren't a coward," she growls, "but I can't believe you're showing your face here after what you did. Or do you want to deny that you betrayed us all?" Her words stir a mixture of emotion in me, but anger wins out.
"No," I respond. "I'm not going to deny it, but if you want to talk about betrayal, let's make sure the list is complete." I start ticking a count on my fingers.
"Tris stopped the simulation." I look around at all the faces watching me and continue more loudly. "She gave you your minds back, your freedom, your souls. And then she turned herself in to Jeanine in order to save your lives. And how did you respond? By leaving her to die." My voice is furious now.
"But let's face it – you're all quite comfortable letting other people die for your standard of living." I hold up a second finger. "Two initiates died this year, for no reason other than your pride. Just so you could make sure you only admit the 'right people.' Those kinds of deaths happen pretty much every year, and you don't care."
A third finger joins the others. "And let's talk about those who live. Shauna was injured fighting for you, but you were all perfectly happy to kick her out just because she needs a wheelchair now."
The fourth finger lifts on its own. "In fact, you're comfortable kicking a lot of people out, aren't you? You made ten teenagers factionless this year, and I don't even know how many older people. Take a look at the factionless who just served as your allies. Three quarters of them came from Dauntless. They were just like you once, but you discarded them like so much trash."
I look at Tori again, meeting her hard gaze unflinchingly. "All this time, you've been so focused on what happened to your brother. Did you ever stop to think that if he'd lived, he would have faced the same choice as everyone else in Dauntless? To die or to go factionless." I wave my hands to indicate the whole room and shout, "Because that's what this faction does to everyone eventually. Don't you think it's time to change that?"
There's doubt now in Tori's expression. She's too mad to admit it, but I can tell I've struck a nerve.
"You're not exactly an innocent victim in all this," I add directly to her. "So I'd suggest that for once you think about what's right for everyone in this city. We need to find a path forward, not return to a broken system."
But Tori's not ready to give in yet. Instead, she shouts back at me, "Yes, and your mother is so open to suggestions. You've put all the power into one person's hands, and she won't listen to anyone else. She's as bad as Jeanine, just with different goals!"
Her voice quiets slightly as she adds, "Why didn't you talk to me about your concerns? We could have changed the faction rules, or at least tried to work something out. You were one of our leaders, for God's sake. But now it's too late. You've taken all our choices away. And that certainly isn't what's best for everyone in the city!"
For a long moment, we stare at each other as a sick feeling spreads through my insides. She's right. I helped my mother take away all these people's choices, just like Jeanine did. We've killed people and destroyed factions, and now we're forcing everyone to live the way we decided was right, without giving them any voice in it at all. We're exactly like Jeanine. I have to fix this, but I don't know how.
My silence condemns me in the eyes of the watching Dauntless, and the Dauntless have never been gentle. I feel hands grab me from behind, pinning my arms as others approach me from the front. There are far too many of them to fight off, and I'm not even sure I should try. Part of me knows I deserve this.
The first blow is the hardest. It always was when my father would hit me, and I bear it in silence as I did with him. Additional strikes fall on my back, my stomach, my shoulders. Instinctively, I duck my head, but of course that won't protect my face for long. I try to stay on my feet, knowing that kicks are much worse than punches, and I'll be an open target on the floor.
The room is filled with shouts of anger, and I can't track the motion of so many people around me, coming at me with such hatred. I remember my words to Tris, saying I wasn't going into danger today, and abruptly I realize that I can't just let these people beat me until I'm dead or useless. If I'm not there to intervene, my mother will never forgive Tris, and she'll be tried as a traitor. That thought gives me the strength to do what I need.
I twist away from the arms that are still holding me, throwing my entire body weight against them at once, and the fingers fall away. I drive my shoulder into the nearest attacker, shoving him backwards against the people behind him. The movement creates a domino effect of people stumbling against each other and knocking themselves to the floor.
The door is about ten feet away, and I begin plotting a path toward it though the people grasping at me. Kicking, punching, lunging, using my elbows and knees and feet and fists and open hands, I become a human weapon with just one goal – to get out of this room. Eight feet. Seven.
As I reach six, the room explodes with the sound of a gunshot, and everyone freezes. For a moment, I'm sure I must have been shot, that one of the Dauntless must still have a weapon and has used it against me. But then I see Therese standing in the doorway, holding a gun in front of her. I don't know who or what she shot.
"Enough!" she shouts. "Break it up or I start shooting randomly!"
For maybe thirty seconds, everyone stares at her, and I know they're debating going after her too, but then Tori's voice rings out. "Let him go! He's not worth this. Just let the piece of trash leave!" And the Dauntless fall back, clearing a path for me to exit the room. The walk seems to take an eternity, with shame chasing me every step of the way. Therese nods at me as I walk past her, but I can't get myself to respond. I have never felt less comfortable in my own skin.
My eyes flit past her, and I see shattered glass all over the floor in the empty room across the hallway. Therese must have shot out the window in order to get everyone's attention. At least that means no one else died for my actions, but I can't help but notice that the room is right next to Zeke's. It could have been his room. I could have gotten him or Shauna killed today.
I limp blindly ahead, losing myself in the maze of hallways that is Erudite. By the time I find an empty lab in a quiet area, I'm beginning to feel the pain. Good. It brings home the reality of what I've done.
Closing the door behind me, I collapse into a chair and sit with my head in my hands. My entire body is shaking – I don't know how much is from the left-over adrenaline and how much is from anger. I'm furious with my mother, with Tori, with myself, with Jeanine, with everyone who led us down so many wrong paths until we ended up where we are right now. We're supposed to be the solution to humanity's problems, but we're nothing more than wild animals. Come to think of it, we're a lot worse than that.
Eventually, I rise again, walking over to one of the lab sinks to clean my injuries. But I'm mostly just bruised. I ache all over, but without the sharpness of a broken bone, and the only blood is on my knuckles, from where they split as I hit the others. It almost seems like a lesson out of Abnegation – the more selfish we are, the more we hurt ourselves.
By the time I leave the lab, I've buried the anger and guilt deep inside me. I came here for specific reasons, and those reasons still apply despite everything else, so I force myself to focus only on them.
Caleb is next. I wanted to be clear-headed when I talked to him, and I'm far from that, but this is probably my only chance. Once I say what I need to Evelyn, I doubt she'll let me near him.
I consider returning to the lobby and asking the guard to help me find his cell, but when I think about it, I know where he'll be. My mother will have him in the same cell where Tris was held. It's the only fitting place.
My feet find the way easily. They've traveled it often enough in my nightmares. At the end of the hallway, I find two factionless guards, both armed, but neither looking particularly alert. Apparently, they're not very concerned about escapes. It's probably good that I don't know either of them. That means they aren't likely to know that I helped some other traitors leave.
"Hi," I say calmly. "I'm Tobias Eaton." I pause long enough to be sure they recognize the name and that it doesn't trigger any alarms for them. "I need to speak with Caleb Prior. He's down that hallway, right?" and I point in the direction of Tris' former cell.
They exchange a brief look, but apparently my name combined with my knowledge of who's being held where is enough to satisfy them, because one of them stands and says, "Yes, he is. I'll let you in."
As I follow him down the hallway, I focus on my breathing, refusing to allow my surroundings to intrude on my thoughts. This building and its occupants have done enough to me for one day. For a lifetime, really.
The guard pauses outside the door, trying to remember the code, and finally consults a piece of paper in his pocket. "Should I come in with you?" he asks as he swings the door open.
"That won't be necessary," I answer in the same calm tone as before. "I'll just shout when I'm ready to leave."
He shrugs and says, "Okay, but shout loudly. These cell walls are pretty soundproof, and we have the cameras turned off." It's nice to know we'll be talking privately.
I nod. "Tell you what – if you don't hear from me within half an hour, come get me, okay?"
He laughs appreciatively as he walks away, calling over his shoulder, "We'll find you eventually." With those words echoing in my ears, I walk into hell.
I've never been inside this particular room, but I obsessed over it for so long I feel as if I spent a lifetime in it, locked within my worst fear. My heart is already racing, and it certainly doesn't help that the cell is small, barely six feet square. I couldn't even lie down along any of the walls. There are cameras in every corner, too, and even though I know they're turned off, they still add to the fear and paranoia. The sense that Jeanine is still out there, watching, planning our executions….
Caleb is sitting on the bed – the only piece of furniture in the room. For a moment, I picture Tris lying on that same mattress, trying to sleep during the last hours before she expected to die, and it's all I can do not to leap at Caleb and wrap my hands around his throat. But that's how Tori feels about me, I remind myself grimly. I'm not really in a position to judge Caleb too harshly.
"What are you doing here?" Caleb asks, his voice shaking wildly. I'm tempted to make something up, to say I'm here to let him know that his execution has been scheduled for tomorrow morning, so he can spend the next hours experiencing the same terror that Tris must have felt. But I don't have time to waste.
"I'm here to finish our conversation from yesterday. We probably don't have much time, so let me make a few things clear. First, I despise you. If you give me any reason to hurt you, I absolutely will. In fact, I would find it very easy to kill you." I look at him fiercely, making sure he understands, and he nods nervously.
"Second, do not lie to me. I have other sources of information, and if you tell me anything that I know isn't true, we're back to number one." He nods again, swallowing hard this time.
"And third, don't try to justify what you did. There is no justification, and I don't want to hear any whiny, pathetic excuses. Are we clear?"
"Y-yes," he stammers. His entire body is quaking with fear, and I can't help but compare him to Tris. She must have inherited all the bravery in the family.
"Okay, then. Tell me simply and clearly what you did for Jeanine and why you don't deserve to die."
He swallows and looks away as he begins.
"At first, I loved Erudite. I loved everything about it. I could finally just focus on learning, without having to pretend to be selfless all the time. It was like a dream come true. But then Beatrice showed up out of nowhere, and she tried to make me feel like everything I was doing was a lie and that I was betraying Abnegation. She didn't understand what it was like here."
He pauses briefly but must remember my third rule, because he continues almost immediately. "She said that Mom wanted me to research the simulation serum because Jeanine was up to something. I wasn't going to do that, because I didn't believe it, and I thought it was just Beatrice acting like she knew best for everyone. She used to do that a lot." Again, he stops himself and then continues in a more even tone.
"Anyway, I guess the Erudite recorded our conversation and showed it to Jeanine, because the next thing I knew, she called me into her office. She gave me soda," he says with a faint smile. "Have you ever had that?" But his smile vanishes at the scowl on my face, and he resumes talking in a glum voice.
"I'd never had a treat before, growing up in Abnegation, and when I drank it, I began to think about all the joys and freedoms that Abnegation denied to us all." He shrugs helplessly. "I began to wonder why they had the power to decide that for the rest of us."
"And she talked to me. She showed me things that initiates don't normally get to see, like what the Abnegation leaders were really doing. She showed me your fear landscape with your father beating you, so I would know that her articles were true. And she showed me the Amanda Ritter video, to make sure I understood what Marcus and the others were trying to do. They wanted us all to leave the city and go fight for a bunch of strangers who have never done anything to help us! It just wasn't right."
He swallows again and continues in a more subdued tone. "She promised that I could get my parents to safety as the attack began and that she would make sure Beatrice wasn't hurt. If I helped her, they'd all be safe, and we could save the city from what our leaders planned. I thought I was saving lives…."
"But then my mother wouldn't stay with us, and Beatrice wasn't affected by the simulation, and everything went wrong... I didn't know how to stop any of it. It just kept getting worse and worse, and then my parents were both dead, and I guess I blamed Beatrice. They died for her, following her plan, when they should have been safe with me. It made me angry, and so I didn't feel as bad as I should have when I gave Jeanine information about her."
He kicks a foot against the floor in silence for a moment. Just as I'm about to push him to continue, he starts again on his own.
"I told Jeanine that Beatrice had three aptitudes, and I told her what they were. And I helped her understand Beatrice's personality and what simulations were most likely to affect her. I don't really know now why I told her some of that, or why I helped her do some of those things. It seemed so reasonable at the time, but now I keep thinking about it and I just don't know anymore."
His voice sounds infinitely sad as he continues quietly, "And then Jeanine made sure Beatrice knew I'd been helping. Beatrice yelled at me, of course, but mostly she just looked at me with such a look of betrayal, and I felt like maybe everything I'd been doing was wrong. For the first time, I felt really bad about it. I know that sounds awful, but it was like I just didn't think about it before then, and it took her words to make me think again."
As Caleb says that, a shock of recognition goes through me. I remember hearing Tris' voice during the simulation, remember how it led me back to reality, and I can't help but feel like Caleb is describing a simulation. But a moment later, I realize it couldn't be that. Caleb remembers thinking and feeling and believing in what he did. No simulation does that.
He clears his throat and continues in a soft voice. "Peter and I spent a lot of time together while Jeanine was…designing simulations and serums and testing them and things like that." He rushes through the words, clearly not wanting to admit even to himself what Tris' life was like during that time.
"And eventually it became clear that we both wanted to do something. So, we worked out a plan. I rigged the heart monitor so it had two settings – one that ran a program with a simulated heartbeat and one that gave flat-line, and I gave Peter a remote control to switch between the two settings. He replaced the wire going to Beatrice's heart with a dead one, so nothing real could get to the monitor and cause confusion, and he switched the serum with one I helped him dye. It wasn't much, but it got her out of here."
He sighs and adds, "That's everything I did. I don't know if helping Peter at the end was enough or not. Maybe I do deserve to die…. But please tell Beatrice that I helped her at least a little, that I'm not entirely bad." He looks up at me pleadingly.
I don't know what to say. I still can't look at him without picturing Tris' hand on the small window of my cell, the last glimpse I had of her before her supposed execution. I can't help but hate him for that. But I also believe him. And that means he's not really much worse than Peter, and he probably shouldn't be killed for being a dumb, gullible kid.
"Look," I start to respond, but the door swings open, and I stop mid-word as Edward walks into the room. He's holding a gun, but he's not pointing it at Caleb. Instead, he's aiming it squarely at me.
"You," he says emphatically, "are not supposed to be in here."
"Why not?" I demand levelly, fixing irritation onto my face. It's best if I pretend I'm not doing anything wrong.
"Pretty sure you know why," Edward answers snidely. "So, just come along quietly, hmm? Your mother would like to see you."
"Well, I'm pretty sure she doesn't want you pointing a gun at me," I say. "But I'm perfectly happy to go talk to her now. I was about to do that anyway." I don't bother to look at Caleb again or say anything to him as I leave. As far as I'm concerned, he can stew in that small cell a while longer.
Edward directs me into a large, well appointed apartment that must have belonged to someone high up in the Erudite hierarchy. I wonder vaguely if it was Jeanine's apartment. Taking it certainly seems like something my mother would do.
"Tobias," Evelyn says tensely as we enter, and she reaches toward me before changing her mind and letting her hand drop. It's always been difficult for me to read her expressions, but I think I see relief in her face, along with plenty of anger. "I wasn't sure you'd come back," she adds.
Her face is tired and worn, as if she didn't sleep much last night. It makes her look more vulnerable, more human. It reminds me that we share a past and that I still care about her, no matter how much I might wish I didn't.
"Of course I came back," I answer almost contritely. "I just needed to take care of a few things first."
Evelyn motions Edward out with a brief word of thanks and closes the door behind him. Then she turns to face me, giving me a long, evaluating look.
"I heard that you got into a fight with the former Dauntless. Therese said you were defending our position."
I nod. "They're angry, Mom, as angry as they were with Jeanine. And I don't entirely blame them. You need to give them a voice in reshaping this city."
A bitter look crosses her face as she spits, "A voice? You mean like the voice they gave to the factionless all these years?! I spent almost a decade starving, freezing, living off the only scraps I could get from them, and all they did was resent me for existing, for taking away a couple of their luxuries."
"I know," I interrupt. "But that doesn't make it right to do the same thing to them. And it certainly doesn't mean they'll accept it if you do." I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. "Or do you want another war?"
"Of course not," she snaps. "But I'm not going to cave in to them just to avoid one. This is our only chance to change things. I refuse to lose that opportunity."
Frustration makes my voice louder. "I'm not saying you should! Of course things need to change, but it's a question of how. If you at least bring the former faction leaders in and let them give some ideas, they'll be more willing to accept whatever you decide."
My mother's face is almost wild with agitation, and I realize this conversation is going nowhere. She's always been stubborn, and right now she's absolutely convinced she's right. There's no way she will accept input from the faction leaders.
An aggravated sigh bursts from me, and I knead the back of my neck for a moment. "Okay," I finally continue more quietly. "How about if you just include me, then? Maybe you could actually listen to me for a change?"
"Well, I'd like to," she hisses, "but remind me where you just were? What you've spent the last day doing? How am I supposed to trust you when your first goal is to rescue the traitors who tried to stop us?"
For a brief moment, I freeze, trying to control my anger. I need to calm down. My mother is at least still talking to me, and there's nothing to be gained by alienating her completely. I take a slow breath, willing my heart rate to ease.
My voice is controlled, almost quiet when I respond. "You can't be surprised that I took Tris out of here. You know how much she means to me, and there's no way I was going to let her go back to a cell in this building."
"No, I'm not surprised," she answers in an almost deadly voice. Her eyes narrow again. "That girl has always had too much influence on you. Sooner or later, I hope you figure that out. But in the meantime, when you ask me to trust you, you're really asking me to trust her. Because you'll do what she wants."
"Think about it," she adds. "You weren't visiting her brother because you care about him, now were you?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to push back the tiredness that's beginning to overwhelm me. It feels like there are no answers, no way to move forward, and I so desperately want to find a path out of this mess.
Finally, I answer. "I was visiting him because of something he said yesterday. I think he's much less of a traitor than we thought, and I wanted to confirm that before he's executed."
"I'm not Jeanine," my mother snaps. "He'll get a trial, and he can present his side of things then. He won't be executed without a chance."
"And how am I supposed to know that?" I explode. So much for staying calm. "You're acting just like Jeanine in so many other ways, what makes this any different?"
"I am not," she snarls so fiercely I feel like the mere words could rip flesh out of me.
"Yes, you are! You're threatening to kill people who don't agree with you. You're refusing to listen to anyone, even your own son. You tried to hide the same video she did, and now that it's been released, you're forbidding everyone to discuss it. You're so hell-bent on controlling everyone and everything you might as well be using simulations. You're exactly the same!"
For a moment, she's so angry she's rendered speechless, and I know I've gone too far. But in a way it felt good to finally speak my mind to her.
"I won't talk about that video," she responds in an icy whisper, and I'm surprised that's what she's focusing on first out of my accusations. "I don't care what your father says. Those people have already done enough harm in this city. I will not let them touch us again."
That was definitely not the response I expected, and for several seconds, I just stare at her. "What do you mean, 'again'?"
But she shakes her head vehemently. "No! You don't get it. They're dangerous, Tobias. They change people."
"In what way?" I ask, but somehow I know she won't answer.
She turns away from me, her entire body rigid with fury and, I think, with fear.
"That's why you helped Marcus, isn't it?" she finally asks.
I sigh again, running a hand over my head in agitation. "No. I didn't help him at all. You know I wouldn't. I helped Tris. He just happened to share her goal."
She shakes her head. "I might buy that for the video, but it certainly doesn't explain why you helped him escape."
"What?" I ask incredulously. "I didn't take him out of here."
"Don't lie to me," she hisses. "Three different people saw him leave with you."
I find myself staring at her again, trying to figure out what game she's playing. But I'm not sure it's a game. Her face has the creases and guarded look I remember from years ago, when my father's mood would shift suddenly, and he'd attack for no apparent reason. It's a look of deep betrayal, and I don't think she's faking it.
"I'm not lying," I say more quietly, letting my confusion show. "I swear I didn't take him out of this building. He was upstairs with me while I was working on Jeanine's computer, but he followed me down to the lobby, and that's where I last saw him. If he's gone, I don't know how he did it."
But as I finish the words, an uncomfortable thought creeps into my mind. I was so focused on what was ahead of us as we left, I never looked behind me. If he followed us out of the building, I might not have seen him, and the guards might have thought he was part of my group. Could that really have happened? I'm usually so aware of him, the hairs on the back of my neck rising whenever he's close, that it seems impossible, but I was certainly very distracted. I can't be sure.
My mother's eyes are narrowed as she evaluates me, weighing my words and expression, and I can tell she doesn't believe me.
"I helped you when no one else would," she says quietly, but with a fierce undercurrent of anger. "And this is how you repay me."
"You seem to be forgetting a couple of things, Mom," I say with equal anger. "You didn't help me for free. Tris saved my life, but you didn't help her out of gratitude, or because I care about her, or even because she saved so many other lives. You only did it to get me to betray Dauntless. So, even if I had helped Marcus, which I didn't, don't try to claim you deserve better."
She glares at me coldly, but I stare directly back, refusing to be intimidated.
"You won't be able to keep her safe," she finally says, her teeth gritted.
Fury sweeps through me, sending tendrils of flame through every part of my body. "Are you threatening her?" I ask incredulously.
She turns away again, but I grab her arm, twisting her back to face me. "Are you seriously threatening Tris? What the hell kind of mother are you?"
She pulls back, yanking her arm from my grasp. "Don't you dare put your hands on me! Don't you dare!" For a moment, her face is from my childhood, filled with fear as my father grabbed her, and I step back, feeling a surge of guilt and confusion. I grabbed her like he did.
"You want to think you're different than him," she says, "but you're not. You're just like he was at your age." Every word drills through me, but she continues, "I wasn't threatening Tris. I was warning you. Marcus will try to get you to leave the city, and knowing your girlfriend, she'll go, and you'll go with her. And they'll change you, just like they did to him. And then you'll hurt her, the way you've always sworn you wouldn't. You'll be just like him!"
Something twists deep inside me, a primal fear knotting my insides like a rope. "What are you talking about?" I demand in a voice that no longer wants to work.
Her expression turns even more bitter, and she takes a few steps away, stopping with her back to me. She's silent for so long that I'm sure she's not going to answer, but eventually she says, "He disappeared for a few days after he became a leader. He would never tell me where he went or what happened, but he was obsessed with Divergence after that. He's the one who pushed the others to retest the factionless, so they could get a count of the Divergent population. He's the one who wanted to show the video to everyone. He's the one who pushed every stage of what led to this war."
She turns around and looks me right in the eyes. "And that's also when he started hitting us." A lead weight drops into my stomach, pulling me toward the floor.
"I don't know what they did to him, but it destroyed him. Don't let them do it to you too. Don't go outside this city." Her voice is intense, her eyes glued to mine, and suddenly there are no thoughts left in my head. There's just the dread from my fear landscape, the thought of turning into my father, and the certainty that I no longer know who to trust.
I'm not sure how long I wander the hallways after I leave my mother's apartment. Thought eventually begins to filter back into my brain, but it's slow, as if I'm swimming through a thick mud.
She must be lying. She made this up to keep me from leaving the city, to get me to agree with her, to silence me. It's as simple as that. Yet part of me is sure she was telling the truth, or at least that she believes what she said. Did something or someone really change him, break something deep inside him, flip some internal switch that turned him into a monster?
And do I have the same flaw inside me, waiting?
No. It doesn't make sense. I've always known he was responsible for his own actions. It's impossible to believe otherwise after seeing the pleasure in his eyes so many times as he released his violence. That has to be all him. It has to be.
And I'm not like him. I'm not. I would never hit Tris.
But I know there's violence inside me. I can't deny that. There's a reason I was so afraid of shooting a woman that it stayed in my fear landscape for two years. There's a reason my landscape still shows me Marcus' face in the mirror. I've hurt people, and I've taken pleasure in it.
During my initiation, I was more than a good fighter; I reveled in it. Yes, it was part of initiation, and we were forced to do it, but it was also the first time I ever got to hit someone back, and I loved the rush of power I felt. I've never started a fight since then, but when they've been pushed on me, I haven't exactly held back. I thoroughly enjoyed knocking out Eric's tooth and wiping that smug look off his face, even if I did it to keep him from hurting Shauna.
And then there's everything I've done to defend Tris…. Drew never fully recovered from what I did to him, at least not mentally. But all I could think was that I wanted to hurt him more, wanted to do the same thing to Peter and Al. I executed Eric without a backward glance, without a twinge of guilt, because of how many times he threatened Tris, because I knew if he lived that he'd kill her someday. I don't even know how many people I killed helping Tris escape from Erudite – from this building. They were just obstacles to her safety. I probably killed even more breaking back in here yesterday. I didn't enjoy that, but I didn't flinch from it either, and I don't really regret it.
I could easily have the same fault inside me that my father does, and if what my mother said is true, I'm walking straight into danger if I leave this city. Worse than that, I'm leading Tris into that danger. I can't let that happen. But I also know I can't let her go without me, not into all the unknown risks out there. And if anything on that video is true, they need her.
I don't know what to do.
But even if I don't have a plan, it's time to do something different. My feet have pounded enough miles in this building today. It's time to go back to Tris. My stomach twists at the thought of explaining all this to her, but I'm determined not to break my promise, and I'm not willing to just stay away, so I'll have to figure it out. Maybe the cool outside air will give me some ideas….
I make my way back to the lobby, wondering vaguely if any of the guards will try to stop me. My mother and I didn't really finish our conversation, and I don't clearly remember how it ended. I was too absorbed by what she said. Hopefully, she hasn't issued any orders to hold me.
As soon as I enter the lobby, Zeke emerges from another stairway. It's too quick, and I instinctively know that he was waiting in the stairway, watching for me. He must have been trying to stay out of sight of the guards.
He raises a hand in greeting, looking as if he hasn't seen me all day, as he crosses the room quickly to join me. His hand stretches out to shake mine, and I grab it immediately. He knows I don't like to shake hands, so if he's greeting me this way, there's a reason for it. Sure enough, I feel the paper between his fingers as he presses it against my palm. I take it quietly, making a partial fist to shield it from view.
"You sure know how to rile people up, don't you?" Zeke asks me with a half smile. It's a serious expression for him.
I shrug, muttering, "It's a talent."
"Well, be careful exercising it, huh?" There's genuine concern in his voice, and I feel a brief surge of gratitude toward him for sticking with me despite everything. I nod, trying to think of a suitable response, but he just claps me on the shoulder and heads to one of the other stairways, as if he was only passing through the lobby as a shortcut.
I surreptitiously slip the paper into my pocket, my fingers brushing briefly against the package Zeke handed me this morning. It feels like that was years ago, and it suddenly seems wrong to have something like that in my pocket after everything that's happened since. But I leave it there. It's been a rotten day, but that doesn't mean my feelings for Tris have changed, and sooner or later, I'm going to want the contents of that package. I can only hope she does too once she hears what my mother said.
To my relief, the guards don't stop me as I leave the building. I'll be followed, of course, but I can handle that. I wanted some extra walking time anyway….