Perseverant

Chapter 2

Sorry for leaving a cliff hanger... but I did do it on purpose. :) Hope you like Chapter 2! I do not own any of the characters in the Divergent Series.

Also, if you have any ideas for the title (seeing as this is a very bad and lengthy title) please comment! I would appreciate it!

CHAPTER 2

TOBIAS

After meeting with Evelyn and forming a truce between her and Marcus, I exit the gate once again, something I never even imagined doing once, and stroll to O'Hare. From about a block away, I can see the destruction that has been caused. People moping around, staring at their hands or at the bright sun above them. I see one man who is screaming and crying hysterically.

As I walk through the doors, I get a very sick feeling in my stomach. I shrug it off and decide to see Tris. She must be upset, with her brother now dead. And that's when I see Caleb. His arrogant posture gives away his Erudite demeanor. Then I know why I am sick. If he isn't dead, who is?

"Where is she?" I ask desperately.

"I, I tried to stop her... she went into the lab for me..." Without thinking, I punch him, square in the jaw. He has killed my sister. I run off to find someone, anyone.

He calls after me, but I can barely hear him over the pounding in my ears, the blood trying to make its way to my head. I run through the halls, shoving dazed people out of the way until I find Cara. She is standing outside of the hospital wing wearing a surgical suit.

"What happened?" I ask, a hostile tone slipping into my voice.

"She's in the operating room," Cara explains, "She was shot in the side and needs to be operated on."

A surge of relief runs through me. At least she isn't dead. I walk behind Cara and enter the room that smells distinctly of bleach. She is there, her blonde hair falling from the table that she is set on. She is beautiful, even when she is asleep, something she never thought or knew of herself. I long to see her again, smiling in the cold, dark halls of Dauntless. A light in the fog.

But every picture has a smudge. The blood on her shirt is dark red, and spreading. I have never seen anything as bad. Her eyes, which fall half open, as if in a dream are glassy. She is dying.

I am shuffled out of the operating room as surgeons arrive to treat her wound.

Will I get to say good-bye to her?