Perseverant

Chapter 3

Back to Tris's perspective. Another shock on the way... I do not own any of the characters in the Divergent Series.

CHAPTER 3

TRIS

My vision is foggy, and I can't move very well, but I can breathe. I am on the same operating table that I was on the last time I was awake. This time I am bound to the table and my side hurts even more. I can feel the pull of sleep on my eyelids, but I keep them open. If I go under again, I know something bad is going to happen.

How could Cara do this? I trusted her. She helped me so many times...

I focus on the leather that binds me to the table. It is frayed and weak, almost how I was before that Choosing Ceremony so long ago. I focus all of my strength on that, or at least what's left of it. My strength has diminished, and the pain in my side is excruciating. Eventually, I get to the point where just a little more effort would break it. Then, Cara walks in, her face stone cold.

"Awake again, I see," Cara says suspiciously.

She reaches toward me with a syringe in her hand, eyeing with a cold hatred. By the time her hand reaches my neck, I have burst through the leather. I bite down on her hand viciously. She shrieks and kicks the table away from her. I roll to the edge of the room, where she and the other nurses come towards me. Suddenly, Cara extends her hand behind her, blocking the nurses from me.

"Why, you might ask am I trying to do this to you? Why would poor little Cara, the one with the dead brother want me dead?" she asks laughing at one point. I stay quiet, pondering, once again, death. Does this period of time truly matter? Is life just a conveyor belt into death?

"You have always known me as a perseverant person... now, instead of helping you, it will be your demise. I have always loathed you, even before you so selfishly killed my brother. Your mother was a sneak and a criminal, and she raised you to be the same," Cara stops for breath, "And you have taken him from me... Tobias. I wanted him to be mine from the beginning, but you with your pointy nose and tight shirts have ruined that! You are a sick puppy and it is time to put you down!"

I stare her down, keeping my face tight. Each word felt like a blow to the stomach. How dare she speak of my mother that way! Then, without deciding, I lunge upon her, clawing at her face, scratching and punching her until I can see fresh blood pour from her face. She screams, trying to push me off, but I have a hold of her hair. The nurses come near me, questioning what they should do, until I feel a sharp pain in my neck.

All I see is blackness.