Flower Child

Chapter Twenty Seven

"Mor."
Someone is shaking my shoulder, trying to wake me up.
"Mor."
I open my eyes to look at Christina. Her eyes are bloodshot and her cheeks are streaked with mascara. Tris is standing behind her, her eyes red as well.
"It's Al," she says.
She pulls me to my feet and we run out of the dorms and towards the Pit. My heart is clenching, it's Al. What happened? What was wrong. Part of me doesn't really want to find out.
We run across the pit. A large crowd is gathered at the edge of the pit, near the chasm. I push through it, maneuvering my way forward. My brain screams at me to turn around, that whatever we're about to see is not going to be nice. I push forward anyway. Christina and Tris follow me.
Two Dauntless men are pulling a rope, grunting over the weight of whatever it is they're pulling out. A dark figure peaks out and more Dauntless rush forward to hoist it over the edge. It's a body.
It falls to the ground with a thud, a pale arm swollen with water flops to the side. Tris grabs my hand, looking down at the ground, and Christina holds my arm, burying her head in my shoulder and sobs. I can't look away. They turn the body over and the head flops to the side.
My knees tremble at the sight. The eyes are open, dark, lifeless. The lips are blue and the skin is pale. It looks almost like a person, but not. It's hard to breathe, its feels like my throat is closing up. I have to force myself to breathe. Al is that thing on the ground.
"One of the initiates," someone behind me says, "what happened?"
"Same thing that happens every year," someone replies, "he pitched himself over the ledge."
"Don't be so morbid. Could have been an accident."
"They found him in the chasm. You think he tripped over his shoelace and... whoopsies, just stumbled fifteen feet forward?"
Christina's grip on my arm is beginning to hurt, but I can't find it in me to tell her to let go. Someone kneels down next to Al and closes his eyes. I wish they wouldn't do that. It's not like he's just sleeping, he's dead.
My knees give out and I sink to the floor, Tris and Christina follow. My heart feels like someone is squeezing it, crushing my life with their hand. I remember the sound of Al screaming in his sleep, of him crying on that first night here. I remember holding his big hand in mine, I remember it holding my screams in.
They bring a black bag to put his body in. I can already tell that it's to small. Next to me, Tris groans, it almost sounds like a laugh. I can't be here anymore.
I pull my arms free from my friends as I stand up, and I run as far away as I can get from the chasm.

I take my sweet time going to the pit. Here in Dauntless, they don't waste anytime in honoring the dead. The pit is packed full of people, talking, laughing, drinking. Dauntless don't mourn, they celebrate.
Back in Amity, funerals were the only time anyone cried. My fathers funeral was full of crying. He had touched many peoples hearts and was a dear friend to almost everyone in the faction. We sang songs of mourning, took turns telling our happiest memories of him.
Dauntless is nothing like that.
When I enter the pit, everyone is crowded around the ledge now, waiting for Eric to speak. I find my friends quickly and make my way towards them. Tris stands next to Uriah, on his other side are Lynn and Mar. He offers Tris a silver flask and she shakes her head.
"Surprise, surprise," Molly says behind them, in front of me, "once a Stiff, always a Stiff."
I get closer to them.
"I read an interesting article today," she says, leaning closer to Tris, "something about your dad, and the real reason you left your old faction."
I should probably just leave it to Tris to decide what to do, but I don't. All I feel right now is anger, Molly is the perfect person to take it out on.
I grab a fistful of her hair and rip backwards. She shouts in pain and falls onto her back.
"Molly," I say lowly, "leave her alone or you'll be the next person they pull out of that chasm."
I don't watch to see if she gets up. I just stand next to Uriah and grab Mar's hand.
"Glad we got our girl back," Mar whispers to me.
I raise my brow at her and Lynn leans around her.
"Don't think that we fell for your weak act," Lynn says, nodding to Uriah, "unlike some people."
I can only manage a small smile at the two of them before I look towards Eric who climbs onto a box next to the railing.
"Quiet down, everyone," he yells.
Someone hits a gong and the pit falls into low murmurs instead of shouting.
"Thank you," Eric says, "as you know, we're here because Albert, an initiate, jumped into the chasm last night."
Even the murmuring stops now, the only sound left is the rushing water of the chasm.
"We do not know why," Eric says, "and it would be easy to mourn the loss of him tonight. But we did not choose a life of ease when we became Dauntless. And the truth of it is... the truth is, Albert is now exploring an unknown, uncertain place. He leaped into viscous waters to get there. Who among us is brave enough to go into that darkness without knowing what lies beyond it? Albert was not yet one of our members, but we can be assured that he was one of our bravest!"
The crowd erupts in to loud cries and whoops and cheers. It drowns our the roaring of the chasm with its own roar. Christina takes the flask from Uriah's hand and takes a swig. Will wraps his arm around her and holds her to his side.
"We will celebrate him now, and remember him always," Eric yells, lifting a bottle that someone hands him, "to Albert the Courageous!"
"To Abert," the crowd shouts back.
They start to chant, "Al-bert, Al-bert, Al-bert," until it doesn't sound like his name anymore, but the war cries of an ancient race.
I can't do this. I take my hand from Mar's and force my way out of the crowd. The roaring crowd grows fainter the farther I get but I still hear it. No one roams the halls right now. I find a place on the outer edge of a ring of light and I let myself break. I sit and bring my knees to my chest, hugging my arms around them.
Al wasn't courageous. No, if he was courageous he would have admitted defeat and left Dauntless. He was scared, he was a coward, and he took the easy way out.
"Mor."
I look up at him, "leave me alone."
Four stands in front of me, the light that barely reaches us sends strange shadows over his face.
"Somehow I don't think that's the best idea right now," he says.
I glare at him, "shouldn't you be paying your respects?"
He gives me a look, "shouldn't you?"
I lower my head, "why should I? He tried to kill me, remember? He tried to kill me and then when I wouldn't forgive him he killed himself. I don't care."
By the look that he gives me I know he doesn't believe me. I don't blame him, he's right, I do care, I care to much.
"I hate this," I say, "he throws himself off a ledge and Eric's calling him a hero? Eric, the one that was going to let you throw knives at him. Al wasn't brave! He was a coward who tried to kill me because he was failing! Is that the kind of thing Dauntless respect?"
"What do you want them to do," he asks, "the kids already dead, it's not like they can punish him."
"It's not about him," I say, my voice growing louder with my anger, "it's about the people watching. Apparently hurling yourself into the chasm is a viable option now, I mean, why not? You'll get called a damn hero afterwards for it. Why not? Why... why not."
I hold my face in my hands, it's getting increasingly hard to breathe, to think .
"It's my fault," I cry, "I couldn't save him because I was so selfish and angry that I couldn't see he needed help. I couldn't forget myself, my anger, for one moment to help him. Instead I told him that I would kill him if he came near me. This wouldn't have happened in Amity."
Four looks over at the light, his eyes falling on something I don't bother to look at.
"Careful, Mor," Four says lowly.
"Is that really all you're going to say," I say, "Really. careful, Mor? That's it?"
He grabs my arm and hoists me up, "you're worse than a damn Candor."
He pulls me away from the light. His grip on my arm is to strong for me to break. He stops when we're in the darkness, turning to me. Our faces are so close that I can see a few freckles that dot his nose.
"I'm only going to say this once," he whispers, "they're watching you. You in specific."
"What are you talking about," I ask, my voice smaller than I want.
He lets go of my arm. Why is he so weird, his moods are a ever evolving mystery to me.
"Who's watching me," I ask, "are they watching you too?"
"I keep trying to help you," he says, refusing to answer my question, "but you refuse to be helped."
I glare at him, "helping me? Like what? Throwing knives at me and taunting me? Is that your form of help?"
"Really? Taunting you?" He rolls his eyes. "I wasn't taunting you, I was reminding you that if you failed, someone else had to take your place."
"Why," I ask.
"You're more Abnegation and Amity than you're willing to admit," he says quietly, "you're insanely protective of your friends and when it's for someone else's sake, you're braver than anyone I know."
I understand, I already knew that, but I refused to see it. He was trying to tell me that if I failed, Al would have to take my place. I protect my friends, I was willing to do anything to protect Al, and now I failed him.
"I know it's hard," he says, "but you need to at least pretend that your selflessness and kindness are disappearing. If the wrong people end up discovering it, you're dead."
"Why," I ask, "why do they even care?"
"They want you to conform." He puts a hand on the wall next to my head and he leans into it, it's suddenly hard for me to focus on the words he's saying. "To think a certain way so that you aren't a threat to them."
"I don't understand," I whisper, "why do they care if I'm acting the way they want me to now?"
He sighs, "you're acting that way now, but what happens when you do something they don't like? When your Amity heart forces you to go against orders."
He's right, I know he is. My Amity heart has a tendency of getting me in trouble, my Divergent brain has a tendency to get me in even worse trouble.
"I don't need you to help me all the time," I say quietly, "ever think about that?"
He shakes his head, "you think my first instinct is to protect you? You're wrong."
He leans his face close to mine and grabs my chin with his fingers. They smell like metal, like he had shot a gun or held a knife. My skin ignites where he touches me, like he's electricity and I'm metal.
"My first instinct is to push you until you break." He squeezes when he says break. "Just to see how hard I have to push."
My entire body is on fire as I stare into his intense eyes, "why?"
"Fear doesn't shut you down, it wakes you up," he says, "I've seen it and I'm fascinated by it, by you."
His hand trails across my jaw, down my neck, "I just want to see it sometimes. I want to see you awake."
My hands move on their own. They trail over his shoulders and down his chest to his waist where they rest. I can't pull away, so I push. I press myself into his chest and wrap my arms around his back, my fingers gripping his shirt.
He hesitates before he pulls me closer to him, one hand on the small of my back and the other entwined in my hair. My eyes burn as tears fall from them, making the front of his shirt wet.
"Why am I crying," I ask, "he tried to kill me, why am I crying for him?"
It seems so strange, but I guess it can be blamed on my heart. I love to easily and even when it's broken, it will still try to love the one who broke it.
"Do you think I know anything about tears," he asks.
He lets me cry, not trying to shush me, to tell me everything will be alright. He knows I don't want him to.
"It's my fault," I say, my voice tight, "if I would have forgiven him, he would still be alive."
"It's not your fault," he says, pressing his hand to my cheek.
I lean my head into it, "yes it is. I should have forgiven him, if I would have-"
"Stop," he says, "maybe. Maybe if you had forgiven him he wouldn't have done it, but there's nothing we can do to change it now. Use that guilt to remind you to do better next time."
I pull back at little and look up at him. That's an Abnegation teaching.
"What faction are you from," I ask.
"It doesn't matter." His eyes are downcast. "I'm here now, this is my faction. That's something you should remember too."
He looks conflicted when he meets my eyes like he wants to say something. He doesn't, instead he presses his lips to the space between my brows. My eyes flutter closed. We stay there, his lips pressed to my skin and my hands on his waist. Neither of us are willing to move away. Both of us wish we could stay like that forever.