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Ãëàâà 16. Tris sleeps in my room tonight.






Tris sleeps in my room tonight.

After several unconvincing arguments on her part, I finally manage to persuade her that sleeping in the same room with the people who just attacked her is not a good idea.

I settle on a makeshift bed on the floor, no more than two feet away from my own bed, where Tris lays facing away from me. Eventually, I fall asleep to the sound of Tris's steady breathing.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I jerk awake with my heart racing, certain I have heard Tris screaming my name. My head jerks wildly from side to side, searching the darkness of my room for that shadow that looks out of place, the one that spells out immediate danger, but my fear is only an extension of my imagination.

Beside me, Tris's chest moves up and down to the steady rhythm of her soft breathing. Without the harshness of the light, the bruises on her face are almost masked by the dim shadows of the night. It's almost too easy to forget that she wasn't driven to the sanctuary of my room for the sake of her safety – that instead, she had found her way to me by herself, willingly, because out of a crazy stroke of luck – dare I say it – she likes me as much as I like her.

Maybe one day that will be her reason for being here. Maybe. I pray to whoever is listening above for luck to be on my side just this once.

Slowly, my eyes drift shut with the heaviness of sleep, but before I lose all consciousness, I feel the corners of my mouth turn upwards in a slight smile.

Through the periwinkle light in my room, I can make out the slumbering body beside mine. Dawn must be just around the corner, or maybe the sun has already completed its slow climb over the pink horizon. Without a single window in my room, it's hard to tell. I am dizzy as I sit up. The air feels humid and sweltering under the sweater I have draped over myself, and my hands are clammy as I clench and unclench my fists. I clutch my spinning head firmly in my hands and count backwards until I feel some semblance of stability.

The electric hum of the refrigerator is a familiar and gentle backdrop and the alarm clock on my desk lets out a quiet beep as the numbers tick forward from 7: 59 AM to 8: 00 AM. The sun must have come up ages ago, lighting the way for those who are required to be up early so they don't have to fumble down the streets in complete darkness. Tris is still fast asleep so I make my way to my bathroom as quietly as I can and run a shower. The steaming water unravels every last knot in my body. When I step out, a layer of vapor hangs lazily in the air, coating the mirror with a slick layer of condensation. I drag my hand across its surface and stare at my reflection until the mirror mists over again.

There's a glow in my eyes that I have never seen before, and I don't know whether it should be credited to the soothing shower or Tris's presence on the other side of the door.

I pull on my clothes and open the door, grateful for the gust of cool air that hits my face.

" Hi, " Tris, who is now awake, says casually as she looks away from the mirror hanging from my wall.

I gently run my fingers over the bruise on her cheek which has turned purple with splashes of murky blue. " Not bad, " I say. " How's your head? "

" Fine, " she says, though I'm almost positive she's lying.

I drop a hand to her ribs. " And your side? "

" Only hurts when I breathe."

I smile gently. " Not much you can do about that, "

" Peter would probably throw a party if I stopped breathing, " she says.

" Well, I would only go if there was cake." I joke.

She laughs at my joke, but her smile is distorted into a wince as she presses a hand over the one that I have on her ribcage. Carefully, I slide my hand away, not wanting to hurt her anymore that I have to.

Together, we walk down to the dining hall. The clattering noise of silverware hitting ceramic plates can be heard from quite some distance away.

" I'll go in first, " I say when we're hovering outside the doors of the dining hall. " See you soon, Tris."

Shauna and Zeke are already plowing through their breakfast by the time I sit down at the table.

" Morning, " Shauna says without looking up from her toast. Apparently, buttering your toast takes the upmost concentration nowadays.

" Rough night? " Zeke asks, gesturing to the cut by my lip with his half eaten bran muffin.

I let out an exasperated sigh. " You have no idea."

" Whoa, " Lauren says, her eyes shining with a subtle hint of alarm. With dark circles under my eyes, the cut on my face and my disheveled hair, I must look terrible. " What happened last night? Did you get into a fight with someone? It wasn't Eric, was it? Tell me it wasn't him. You know he will make your life a living hell if you cross him."

" Jeez, slow down." I snap. " Yes, there was a fight, but it wasn't my fight. Peter, Drew and Al attacked Tris."

" What? Oh my god, " she says. " Is she okay? "

" Yeah, she'll be fine."

" Three guys against one Stiff? " Zeke says. " That's hardly even fair."

" Fair? You think they know anything about fighting fair? " I say. " Eric has them fighting each other to unconsciousness. He made me throw knives at a live target to scare them. Fighting fair is probably the last thing on their minds right now."

" You should have taken up Max's offer when you had the chance. Initiation wouldn't be half as brutal with you in charge instead of Eric."

" Yeah, I know. But it's too late for that now."

Something catches Shauna's eye, and she nudges my ribs to to steal my attention away from my bagel. Through the doors shuffles Drew, whose skin is more blotches of purple and blue than his normal pinkish skin tone. A spark of pride ignites within me. Peter and Al may have gotten away last night, but at least they will have Drew as an example for the punishment they deserve for their actions.

" On second thought, " Zeke stifles a laugh. " I don't think the initiates would that much better off with you either."

I roll my eyes at him. " Neither will you if you don't keep your mouth shut about this."

I stuff the rest of my bagel into my mouth and mumble unintelligibly, " I gotta go. Fear landscape day."

" See you later." They both wave me off as I walk over to the initiates' table.

" Transfers. We're doing something different today, " I announce. " Follow me."

I lead the lot out of the dining hall and around the spiraling paths that surround the Pit, climbing higher and higher toward the sliver of light beaming through the glass ceiling above me. One look below is enough to send me plunging into a sea of terror with nothing to act as my life boat, so I keep my eyes trained on what's in front and above me.

Two years ago, when fear landscapes were the first stage of initiation, I was lead up these very same steps by Amar, my instructor. My eyes stole a brief glance at the ground dropping away beneath us, and that was enough to undo any courage that I had. It was Amar who noticed the way my breathing quickened and the way fat beads of sweat begun coating my skin the farther up we advanced. Fear will only succeed if you allow it to control you, he told me. So I took his words to heart and stopped letting my fear of heights control me by overlooking the hollow space beneath me and focusing on what is above. It was him who gave me a new life, who erased Tobias from existence and renamed me Four. He was the greatest mentor I've ever had, and I'm sorry every single day that his life had ended so early and abruptly.

Two years ago, I never thought I would one day have the courage and confidence to fully navigate the narrow pathways of the Dauntless compound with ease, but now, after walking these steps seemingly millions of times, I know the place like the back of my hand. I turn around to make sure everyone is following. Drew, swollen and bruised, trudges along slowly, falling a couple of steps behind everyone else. " Pick up the pace, Drew! " I call out. It's a cruel joke, but Drew should know all about being cruel.

My eyes flicker to Tris to catch the smile that I want to see on her face because she, out of everyone here, would understand the joke. And sure enough, her lips are upturned in a gratifying smile, but there is something else about her that I've noticed – she has her arm snaked around Will's. My smile abruptly drops from my lips as my head is submerged in unexpected and irritating disappointment. I thought I knew jealousy when I stood silently on the corner of my street, watching children being coddled by their parents the way I never have been, but this feelings is something entirely different. This is what jealousy must really feel like, I think, trying out the taste of this new emotion on my tongue. It's full of bitterness and hot anger and I don't like it one bit.

I turn back around and continue to lead the initiates forward, past the training facilities and into a worn down room lit by fluorescent lights.

" This is a different kind of simulation known as the fear landscape. It has been disabled for our purposes, so this isn't what it will be like the next time you see it, " I say. " Through your simulations, we have stored data about your worst fears. The fear landscape accesses that data and presents you with a series of virtual obstacles. Some of the obstacles will be fears you previously faced in your simulations. Some may be new fears. The difference is that you are aware, in the fear landscape, that it is a simulation, so you will have all your wits about you as you go through it."

Though it doesn't make it any easier, I think, but I don't say it out loud. Fear, under certain circumstances, is capable of overpowering even the strongest, most disciplined people. Fear is the heart of failure, and failure will not be tolerated this far into initiation.

" The number of fears in your landscape varies according to how many you have, " I continue. " I told you before that the third stage of initiation focuses on mental preparation. That is because it requires you to control both your emotions and your body—to combine the physical abilities you learned in stage one with the emotional mastery you learned in stage two. To keep a level head."

To be honest, I never quite understood why fear landscapes were once the first things we went through upon initiation. The sequential rhythm of the stages of initiation now makes so much more sense.

A light bulb flickers and sputters above my head, making the room blink in varying degrees of dimness. My eyes stop scanning the initiates and settle on Tris.

" Next week you will go through your fear landscape as quickly as possible in front of a panel of Dauntless leaders. That will be your final test, which determines your ranking for stage three. Just as stage two of initiation is weighted more heavily than stage one, stage three is weighted heaviest of all. Understood? " Everyone nods.

" You can get past each obstacle in one of two ways. Either you find a way to calm down enough that the simulation registers a normal, steady heartbeat, or you find a way to face your fear, which can force the simulation to move on. One way to face a fear of drowning is to swim deeper, for example." I shrug. " So I suggest that you take the next week to consider your fears and develop strategies to face them."

" That doesn't sound fair, " Peter whines. " What if one person only has seven fears and someone else has twenty? That's not their fault."

I stare at him – the boy who stabbed another initiate in the eye while he was asleep, the same boy who had rounded up two others to attack a girl half his size just last night – incredulous at the thought that the idea of fairness even exists in his mind. " Do you really want to talk to me about what's fair? "

As I walk towards him, the crowd initiates part around me like matching sides of magnets repelling the other away. I cross my arms, never breaking eye contact, and savor the satisfaction of finally being able to put Peter in his place. " I understand why you're worried, Peter. The events of last night certainly proved that you are a miserable coward." He stays utterly still, showing no effort to rebut, and no effort to dispute. " So now we all know that you are afraid of a short, skinny girl from Abnegation."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Drew wince at my words. Off to the side, Tris stands with Will and Christina wearing a small but distinct smile on her face. It's a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Peter, in some ways, exhibits perfect Dauntless traits. It's a sickening thought, but it's also the truth. His act of cowardice spawned from his injured pride. The fact that someone who he no doubt thinks less of has beaten him as his own game is, to him, an appalling reality, and the only way to face that awful defeat is to exert his dominance over those who he believes should be weak. It's cruel, and it's gutless, but people are willing to astonishing lengths to salvage their pride.

After all, what is more important to a Dauntless than their pride?

Nothing.

It is our greatest weakness.

X X X

Something terrible happens tonight.

My head snaps up at the sound of two rapid knocks on my door. I wasn't expecting company, so I quick throw on a wrinkled t-shirt and try to rub the imprint of my pillow from my cheek.

Lauren stands on the other side of the door, a blur of violently quavering lips and flying brown hair as she sobs hysterically, " It's Al, Four, it's Al! He threw himself into the chasm! "

My blood is raging but my heart is icy, like it's anaesthetized.

" Oh, " I choke in an undertone. I clinch Lauren in my arms. " Hey, it's going to be okay." I say, but I'm probably reassuring myself more than anyone.

This happens every year; one initiate cracks under the pressure so they pitch themselves over the edge. Why is it that we, as a faction, have never taken a hint from the countless number of lost lives to realize that maybe our methods are flawed?

Lauren rubs her eyes raw with the back of her hands. Slowly, her frantic sobs become quiet hiccups, and she murmurs over and over again, " I wish they would do something about this. We should do something."

I know she's right. We should do something.

But in the end, she leaves silently with her arms wrapped around herself, and I stare after her down the empty, dank hallway pushing the thoughts flooding into my head that scream with increasing intensity this is your fault!

My feet carry me down the stony paths. I turn down random hallways, wandering around aimlessly until I realize every turn I make leads me away from the chasm. Eric is, without a doubt, relaying a phony speech about the courageousness of Al – the vivacity with which he lived each day! I don't know what's worse – the fact that the only respect to be earned from Eric is when you're dead, or that the Dauntless down there are eating his words up willingly because they share the same belief that suicide is a brave and honourable act.

This is ridiculous.

Ahead, a soft figure bobs around in the darkness. As I get closer, I recognize the waves of blonde hair and her slender figure.

" Tris."

" What are you doing here? " she says, her tone tense and edgy. " Shouldn't you be paying your respects? "

" Shouldn't you? "

" Can't pay respect if you don't have any, " she says, but as soon as the words come out, guilt twists her face into a pained expression. " I didn't mean that." They were friends, after all, even if he did attack her. One wrong can't possibly undo all of the rights or else there would be no such thing as forgiveness.

" Ah." Whether or not there is a chance that she will forgive him, I don't know. But I do know Al lost her respect not because of his actions against her, but his actions against himself. Abnegation believes suicide is, ultimately, an act of selfishness. Somewhere inside Tris still lives the grey clothed Abnegation girl who lives by their customs and abides by their rules. It is this girl who has given up on Al.

" This is ridiculous, " she says heatedly. " He throws himself off a ledge and Eric's calling it brave? Eric, who tried to have you throw knives at Al's head? He wasn't brave! He was depressed and a coward and he almost killed me! Is that the kind of thing we respect here? "

" What do you want them to do? " I say. " Condemn him? Al's already dead. He can't hear it and it's too late."

" It's not about Al, " she says irritably. " It's about everyone watching! Everyone who now sees hurling themselves into the chasm as a viable option. I mean, why not do it if everyone calls you a hero afterward? Why not do it if everyone will remember your name? It's…I can't…" I wonder how long she has been repressing her pent up anger. I want to comfort her, I need to comfort her and tell her to calm down, but she is a ticking time bomb.

" This would never have happened in Abnegation! " she says furiously. " None of it! Never. This place warped him and ruined him, and I don't care if saying that makes me a Stiff, I don't care, I don't care! "

My eyes shift immediately to a spot on the wall at the end of the pathway, right above a water fountain, where I know there is a security camera.

" Careful, Tris, " I warn, eyeing the camera carefully. Silently, I pray for the off chance that whoever is working in the control room is preoccupied with watching the commotion in the Pit.

" Is that all you can say? " she scowls at me. " That I should be careful? That's it? "

" You're as bad as the Candor, you know that? " I sigh indignantly. Why is she being so difficult?

I grab her arm and tow her away from the spying camera above the fountain, but we're not entirely safe even though we're out of the camera's range. I don't think safety will be granted to us so long as our divergence is crawling under our skin. " I'm not going to say this again, so listen carefully." I urge, grasping her shoulders firmly with my hands, my fingers digging into her skin as if they're trying to bury my words under her skin so she has no choice but to recognize the urgency of her situation. " They are watching you. You, in particular."

" Let go of me, " she murmurs, and I loosen my grip instantly. I didn't realize how hard I've been gripping her. Sometimes I feel like there are just too many things weighing on my mind at once and I can't control my thoughts or even my body at times. I can't afford to lose control like this in front of Tris.

" Are they watching you, too? " she says quietly.

Yes, I want to confess. They probably have been ever since I set foot into this place. You're not easily forgotten if you're one of the few Abnegation who choose to leave their faction. I transferred for the sake of my safety, but now, I question my choices more than ever because behind the walls of the Dauntless compound are ghosts who whisper, spy, and betray the safety of everyone who is deemed unworthy by the standards of our twisted leaders.

" I keep trying to help you, " I say, " but you refuse to be helped."

" Oh, right. Your help, " she rolls her eyes. " Stabbing my ear with a knife and taunting me and yelling at me more than you yell at anyone else, it sure is helpful."

" Taunting you? You mean when I threw the knives? I wasn't taunting you, " I snap. " I was reminding you that if you failed, someone else would have to take your place."

She stays silent for a few seconds, and then says, " Why? "

" Because you're from Abnegation, and it's when you're acting selflessly that you are at your bravest." I say, but as the words come out of my mouth, I can't help but think about how everything I have done has ultimately turned me into a walking paradox. Yes, I do believe the Abnegation are at their bravest when they are acting selflessly. Leaving my faction for my own benefit was a selfish act, which not only proves me to be weak, but also a coward. Yet, my selfish and cowardly act has landed me in the very faction that values bravery and detests cowardice.

It's funny how events unfold.

I turn my attention back to Tris. " If I were you, I would do a better job of pretending that selfless impulse is going away, " I warn, " because if the wrong people discover it…well, it won't be good for you."

" Why? Why do they care about my intentions? "

" Intentions are the only thing they care about. They try to make you think they care about what you do, but they don't. They don't want you to act a certain way. They want you to think a certain way. So you're easy to understand. So you won't pose a threat to them." I shift my weight and lean into the stone wall, conscious of the fact that my subtle movement has reduced the distance between Tris and I.

" I don't understand, " she says, her brows furrowing in confusion, " why they care what I think, as long as I'm acting how they want me to."

" You're acting how they want you to now, but what happens when your Abnegation-wired brain tells you to do something else, something they don't want? "

Individual thought is a plague to a dictatorship because it has the ability to poison its community into revolt and chaos. And revolt and chaos is absolutely unacceptable.

" I might not need you to help me. Ever think about that? " she says. " I'm not weak, you know. I can do this on my own."

" You think my first instinct is to protect you. Because you're small, or a girl, or a Stiff. But you're wrong." I tuck my fingers under her chin and tilt her face up so she's looking into my eyes. I need her to understand that I do not see her as the weak link in our system. " My first instinct is to push you until you break, just to see how hard I have to press…but I resist it."

" Why…why is that your first instinct? "

" Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up. I've seen it. It's fascinating." I trail my fingers along her jaw, down her neck, her skin warm against my touch. " Sometimes I just…want to see it again. Want to see you awake."

She leans in, wrapping her arms around me and resting her head against my chest. My stomach knots at the sudden intimate gesture. It feels wrong that I am the one urging her to cast away her Abnegation roots when I still wear the same traits under my skin. You're a Dauntless, I remind myself. Showing affection is not a misdemeanor here. So I snake my arms around her, my palms pressing against the small of her back, and pull her closer. Our mismatched height allows her head rests precisely over my heart. I try to tell my heart to remain composed, to stop beating so frantically, but it's like when you're at a tall height and someone tells you not to look down – you do it anyway.

" Should I be crying? " she murmurs into my shirt. " Is there something wrong with me? "

" You think I know anything about tears? " I say quietly.

" If I had forgiven him, do you think he would be alive now? " she asks.

" I don't know, " I say, and it's the only honest answer I can offer.

" I feel like it's my fault." She sighs heavily.

I lean in and touch my forehead to hers. " It isn't your fault, " I say firmly. In truth, it was a collective effort from all of us that led to Al's suicide. No one is irrational enough to be driven to death's edge by the actions of one person.

" But I should have. I should have forgiven him."

" Maybe. Maybe there's more we all could have done, but we just have to let the guilt remind us to do better next time." I say, realizing too late that the words spilling out are relayed from my memories of Mr. Prior's lectures.

Tris pulls back and frowns, crinkling the skin between her eyebrows. " What faction did you come from, Four? "

" It doesn't matter, " I say hastily. " This is where I am now. Something you would do well to remember for yourself."

Tris doesn't press on about the matter, but her eyes still hold a peculiar shade of perplexity. I shouldn't hide my past anymore. She deserves to know.

My life has been an ocean voyage. It has sunny days, stormy breaks, calm waters, and roaring waves; each day as unpredictable as the next. But one thing has always certain: there will always be a beacon of light on shining on the horizon to help me navigate whatever is thrown my way. Over time, many names have filled that spot: my mother, who used to be my rock; Amar, who helped me become the person I have always wanted to be; Zeke and Shauna, who have stuck with me through thick and thin; and now Tris, who I am learning to trust and appreciate. I am her instructor, yes, but over the course of initiation, I feel like she has taught me more than I have taught her. In reality, I am the one with a lesson to learn.

And she has been one hell of a teacher.

I touch my lips to her forehead, hoping she will accept this small gesture as compensation for hiding myself from her for so long. We stay this way for a long time, and for the first time in my life, I finally feel free.

X X X

As I climb the steps to my room, I can still feel the ghost of Tris's fingers lightly grazing my back and I shiver at the lingering memory of her soft touch. I come to a stop outside my room, my hand hovering above the door handle. My body is tired, but my mind is wide awake. Sleeping without a sound mind has brought me nothing but waking nightmares in the past. I know I will regret this decision tomorrow, but I utterly refuse to slug through another fitful night. Before I have second thoughts, I let my feet lead me back the way I came from and up the stairs to the fear landscape.

Halfway up the stairs, I realize I am being followed. The sound of the soft and steady footsteps tells me it's Tris who is trailing behind me. When I reach the room, I swipe two syringes that are resting on a shiny plastic tabletop. " Since you're here, " I say without looking at her, " you might as well go in with me."

" Into your fear landscape? " she says hesitantly.

" Yes."

" I can do that? "

" The serum connects you to the program, " I say, " but the program determines whose landscape you go through. And right now, it's set to put us through mine."

" You would let me see that? "

" Why else do you think I'm going in? " I say quietly, knowing that this decision, albeit difficult, will be the one to truly unbind me from the chains that, over the years, have slowly grind its way to my bones. " There are some things I want to show you."

I hold up the syringe, repeating the same string of actions I have performed seemingly hundreds of times during stage two of initiation, but somehow, the syringe feels strange and foreign in my hands as I ease it into her neck and inject the simulation serum. Maybe it's because I am the one being exposed this time. I hold out the box carrying the other syringe and offer it to Tris.

" I've never done this before, " she says nervously as she takes the syringe out of the box.

" Right here, " I tap a spot on my neck. She pushes the tip of the needle in, her hands trembling slightly despite the steadiness in her eyes. Which am I accountable for? Her nervousness or her composure? Both, I hope.

When she's done, I take the syringe from her and set the box on the floor. We walk hand in hand into my fear landscape, my heart hammering a mile a minute. I've gone through my fear landscapes so many times that I fully know what to expect every time I step into the room, but I wonder if this will change with Tris here beside me. Will it be harder or easier? Each time I have gone through this, I have had a calm and collected mind to guide myself through each fear, but Tris makes me flustered, and it's going to be a lot harder to calm my heartbeat with her so close to me. " See if you can figure out why they call me Four, " I say.

" What's your real name? " she asks.

" See if you can figure that out too."

The simulation erases the sturdy cement floor under my feet; it is replaced by a rickety old metal building instead. The city stretches on before us, reaching all the way to the horizon where it meets the sky in kissing shades of blue and grey. It's a breathtaking view, and I might be able to enjoy it if not for the fact that I am hundreds of feet off of the ground.

The wind starts howling madly, and I have to wrap an arm around Tris's shoulders to steady myself. It's irrational and stupid because I know this is only a simulation, but the wind feels like it's going to sweep me right off of my feet and carry me far, far away – far enough so that I will never be able find my way back again. It's terrifying.

" We have to jump off, right? " Tris yells over the wind.

I sneak a glance over the side of the building and instantly feel my insides clench up. I can't speak; all of my efforts are focused on steadying my breathing. I nod.

" On three, okay? "

I nod again.

" One…two… three! " she yells as she pulls me into a run, each step bringing me closer to the edge of the building. My feet leave solid ground, and for a second, I teeter on the edge between hard metal and rushing emptiness. And then I veer over the edge into nothing but air. For a fraction of a second, it feels like I'm suspended in the air, like a puppet hanging limply from strings, but then we fall, and the ground rushes up to meet us at a terrifying pace. The weightless sensation makes my stomach churn, and I squeeze my eyes shut to keep from throwing up, but I still taste bile in my throat. And then it hits me stronger than ever: the sheer terror of my body slamming into the hard concrete ground below and pushing the life out of me – but it doesn't happen.

My feet stand on solid ground again, but I'm still reeling from the fall. I clutch my chest as I wait for the wave of terror to wash through me. Beside me, Tris looks unfazed by everything, as if we didn't just jump from a hundred story building. She stands up and offers me her hand.

" What's next? "

" It's – " the walls slam into me before I can finish speaking. Concrete walls trap me from all sides, pressing Tris closer to me.

" Confinement, " Tris breathes against my shirt.

It's not real, I remind myself, but the warmth radiating from Tris's body is quickly replaced by the coldness of the barren walls pressing into me, and instead of the scent of Tris's shampoo, I smell stale, musky air. It all feels so, so real. The collapsing walls break into my memory, into that locked box inside me. The air. The stale, suffocating air that always smells like dust and something ancient. I let out a rasping breath.

" Hey, it's okay. Here – " Tris says, wrapping my arms around her willowy frame. I hold her against me tightly, knowing she wouldn't break, but even the feel of her skin pressed against mine can't drive away the haunting memories.

The tiny sliver of light that shone through the thin crack between the doors that illuminated the inside just enough to show the dusty corners. A heavy chair pushed up against the doors to block my escape. Dry sobs which always grew to hoarse screams. The walls seemed to grow hands that grabbed at my clothing and smothered my breathing. " You'll do well to remember the repercussions the next time you think about disobeying me, " my father would say sternly. And the crushing anxiety. I always thought the frantic hammering of my heart would kill me, and my father would eventually find me limp and unresponsive, tucked away neatly in that dank little closet.

" This is the first time I'm happy I'm so small, " Tris's voice cuts through.

" Mmhmm, " I manage. I concentrate on the sound of her breathing. It helps me to claw my way out of those memories and back into my fear landscape.

" We can't break out of here, " she says. " It's easier to face the fear head on, right? " " So what you need to do is make the space smaller. Make it worse so it gets better. Right? "

" Yes." I admit. Make it worse.

" Okay. We'll have to crouch, then. Ready? " she pulls me down with her into a crouch. We are a tangle of limbs trapped in this small space. The walls shift even closer. I take a deep breath in, and inhale pure terror. Cold sweat ices my back and neck. " Ah, this is worse. This is definitely…"

" Shh, " she soothes. " Arms around me."

I wrap my arms obediently around her, but it does nothing to calm my nerves. If this was happening in any place but here, I would be overcome with joy.

" The simulation measures your fear response, " she murmurs softly into my ear. " So if you can calm your heartbeat down, it will move on to the next one. Remember? So try to forget that we're here."

" Yeah? That easy, huh? "

" You know, most boys would enjoy being trapped in close quarters with a girl." She says indignantly.

" Not claustrophobic people, Tris! "

" Okay, okay." She takes my hand and holds it against her chest, over her heart. " Feel my heartbeat. Can you feel it? "

" Yes."

" Feel how steady it is? "

I feel a slight smile creeping in. Her heartbeat is far from steady. " It's fast." I point out.

" Yes, well, that has nothing to do with the box." Oh? " Every time you feel me breathe, you breathe. Focus on that."

" Okay."

For a few seconds, we sit in silence as I try to sync the rising of my chest to hers.

" Why don't you tell me where this fear comes from. Maybe talking about it will help…somehow." she offers.

" Um…okay, " One thing at a time, I tell myself. Break yourself into pieces and hand it to her one at a time. She will be able to solve the puzzle eventually. " This one is from my fantastic childhood. Childhood punishments. The tiny closet upstairs."

" My mother kept our winter coats in our closet." She says casually.

" I don't…" I trail off as the wall behind me presses in closer and causes a fresh wave of panic to wash over me. " I don't really want to talk about it anymore."

" Okay. Then…I can talk. Ask me something."

" Okay. Why is your heart racing, Tris? " A shaky laugh escapes my lips as I remember her say feel how steady it is?

" Well, I…" she struggles for an answer. " I barely know you. I barely know you and I'm crammed up against you in a box, Four, what do you think? "

I'm calling out your bluff, Tris.

" If we were in your fear landscape, " I say, " would I be in it? "

" I'm not afraid of you."

" Of course you're not. But that's not what I meant."

And then, incredibly and unexpectedly, I laugh. I laugh, half with amusement at her awkward confessions, and half with relief at the reality that she actually likes me. The walls burst away instantly, washing us in a pale, blinding light. I get up and stretch my limbs, grateful for the open space, but also missing the feel of the curves of Tris's body pressed against mine.

" Maybe you were cut out for Candor, " I say, " because you're a terrible liar."

" I think my aptitude test ruled that one out pretty well." She huffs.

I shake my head. " The aptitude test tells you nothing." And the results mean nothing because in the end, your choices are guided by your own desires, not the outcomes of a virtual simulation.

" What are you trying to tell me? Your test isn't the reason you ended up Dauntless? "

" Not exactly, no, I…" my voice trails off at the familiar sound of a bullet clicking into place. I look over my shoulder, and there she is: the anonymous woman whose life I have to take every time.

" You have to kill her, " Tris states, her eyes squaring in on the table that has materialized to her right. On it is the gun that I use every time to shoot the woman in front of me.

" Every single time." I say, but no matter how many times I face this fear, it never gets any easier.

" She isn't real."

" She looks real…it feels real." Out of all of my fears, this one has always been the easiest one to face only because it is a different kind of fear. Instead of the choking terror that I usually feel, a leaden numbness fills my mind and turns my body as rigid as ice.

" If she was real, she would have killed you already." Tris reasons.

" It's okay." I exhale slowly. I need to get this over with. " I'll just…do it. This one's not…not so bad. Not as much panic involved."

I pick up the gun, click the bullet into place, and fire a clean shot right into the woman's forehead. Her head whips back with a sickening crack, and as she falls to the floor, I drop the gun in my hand as if it's burning me, and they both fall in noisy clatters onto the cement floor. The panic comes after – it always does. I may be many things, but I am not a murderer. This does not make you one, I remind myself. But when I look at the puddle of blood pooling around her head, my breath catches in my throat and I know all too well that the type of fear this brings is far more damaging because it plays with your conscience. It plants the seed of guilt in you, and it grows and blossoms until the day you can no longer look at anybody without seeing the face of the person whose life fell at your hands.

No wonder the factions were formed, I think. Soldiers' minds were probably ravaged like this every day in our warring country. I can't even stand the thought of living with the guilt of taking one life let alone tens or even hundreds.

I feel a tug on my arm. " C'mon, " Tris says, guiding me away from the body. " Let's go. Keep moving."

And so, I walk away from the body without so much as a backward glance. I'm leaving behind one horror just to walk straight into another one: my last fear, and also my most haunting fear.

A dark figure prowls along the edges of the shadows just out of sight's reach, but I don't need to see him to know it's my father. My entire body is taut as if all my muscles are coiled for flight. I know I cannot run, as much as I wish I could.

" Here we go, " I whisper as he steps out of the shadows and into the harsh yellow light. He looks exactly as I remember him from two years ago: his posture poised and confident, a look of irritating smugness smudged across his face, his eyes cold and distant – the way they have always been since my mother left, and the dread of his displeasure hanging over him like a dreary rain cloud.

" Marcus, " Tris breathes.

" Here's the part where you figure out my name." I say, my voice trembling the way it always does when I am confronted by my father.

" Is he…" she looks from Marcus to me. I've laid out all of my cards on the table, Tris. My ugly past, the nightmares hidden in the darkest corners of my mind, my weaknesses, and my fears – everything is out in the open now.

" Tobias." She finally says. Spot on. No matter what name I take on, I always be Marcus's runaway son.

I keep my eyes trained straight ahead on my father. For every step he takes towards me, I shuffle one step back. He brings his hands out from behind his back and unravels the leather belt that is wrapped around his fist.

Standing before my father, I feel a bit like I'm drowning. He stands there with his rigidness and silent resentment, a travesty of his much idolized honour and pride. The drowning sensation is so strange; this is only a simulation, I am Tobias Eaton, and I know how to swim.

But when his mouth draws out the six dreaded words this is for your own good, and – to my horror – a dozen imitations of him strut into the light, enclosing me in a circle of his black, pitiless stares, my nose slips past sloshing water and I choke.

I'm frozen like a statue, unable to move or think. When he draws back the belt, I shrink back and shield my face with my arms, like I've done thousands of times in the past, and wait for the stinging whip of supple leather and the hard metal buckle.

But it doesn't come.

I peek out between my hands, incredulous at the scene before me.

The belt is wrapped around Tris's wrist, the curl of the leather clinging to her arm like ivy. She gives it a forceful tug and frees the belt from my father's clenched fist and lashes it back at him. The belt strikes his shoulder with a piercing crack, a brown blur flashing by in the air as fast as a snake's flickering tongue.

He is angry. No, angry inadequately describes his rage.

There are two sides to Marcus, and they are as different from each other as day and night. In the public's eye, he is a charming and vivacious man, capable of only honest words and humble actions. It is this side I believe to be the most dangerous. His modest personality draws people in like bait – it is what my mother fell for, and it was her life's greatest mistake. The other side, the darker side, knows only anger and violence. With him, it is a barren no-man's land between being content and flipping the switch to terrifying rage – and right now, he is absolutely livid.

In the past, when the switch inside him goes off, I always find myself cowering in a corner, praying for the heat to pass by quickly. But I won't hide from him anymore.

He lunges at Tris, his eyes burning with fiery rage. Without even a second of hesitation, I step around Tris and put myself in-between the two of them so he can't hurt her. He won't hurt her. No one will as long as I'm by her side.

And then he disappears. Everything around me disappears to be replaced by the busted brick walls of the fear landscape.

Tris was willing to take the force of the blow for me.

" That's it? " she asks. " Those were your worst fears? Why do you only have four…"

She tried to protect me from the man that I, myself, don't even have the courage to face.

" Oh. That's why they call you…" Four.

I stare at her, vigilantly, disbelievingly. I memorize every crease and every crinkle of her face as if there are rivers of secrets swimming in the lines of her face. I try to understand her – this girl who is willing to put herself on the line for the sake of my safety – something my own mother hasn't even done. I realize, for the first time, just how lucky I am to have stumbled upon someone as strong and special as Tris. Surely I don't deserve her, but who am I to mess with the blatant feelings of the girl who happens to care about me as much as I care about her?

I pull her into my chest, gathering her thin body into my arms. I want to be closer to her – I need to be closer to her.

" Hey, " she says softly. " We got through it."

My fingers find stray strands of her hair and tuck them behind her ears. She really has no idea what she just did.

" You got me through it, " I tell her.

" Well, it's easy to be brave when they're not my fears." She says, casually wiping her hands on her jeans.

I find her hand and lace her fingers through mine. " Come on, I have something else to show you."

 


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