I got off the train that took me back to the dauntless faction, I spent the whole ride thinking about what Parker said and what I could do in the meantime.
I took the spiralled stairs down to get to the ground floor of the pit. It was dark with only red lights gleaming through. I wondered how long I had been gone.
As I walked in the corridor that led me to the rooms, I heard a door open and close. I turn my head to see where it was coming from. As I looked back, immediately my mouth was covered with a hand and others grabbing me to lift me up.
My screaming was muffled as I tried to fight myself of whoever's hands were touching me. But it felt like I was outmatched that there was a crowd of them involved.
"Shut up and keep her mouth covered." That voice is higher than the average male's and clearer. Peter.
I bent my legs in and jerked them out, causing one of the boys to retrieve back and smack against something, I assumed it was the wall. However, two bare hands on their side of me squeezed onto me so I couldn't escape. I continued to scream, hoping for someone to hear me.
I try to focus on the hand on my mouth. There must be something distinct about it that will make him easier to identify. His identity is a problem I can solve. I need to solve a problem right now, or I will panic.
The palm is sweaty and soft. I clench my teeth and breathe through my nose. The soap smell is familiar. Lemongrass and sage. The same smell surrounds Al's bunk. A weight drops into my stomach.
I felt them moving me but I didn't stop fighting back. I kept wriggling my body back and forth as an attempt to break the contact but it was no use, they continued walking, until they stopped and I was standing. It felt like they were trying to push me but I quickly turned to face them, which seemed like I only made it worse for myself.
They grabbed onto my jacket as they taunted me backwards, I only fought back. My screams were still muffled, causing my throat to slightly hurt. I managed to get the hand off my face, so I could see that there were three boys grabbing onto me. They were all wearing black and had balaclavas on their faces to hide their identity.
I hear the crash of water against rocks. We are near the chasm—we must be above it, given the volume of the sound. I press my lips together to keep from screaming. If we are above the chasm, I know what they intend to do to me.
I could see that my feet were also right to the edge of the floor.
"Come on! Get her over!" One of them yelled.
I managed to grab one of the balaclavas off the boy's face to reveal Al. My face shocked as I stare at him in a sense of betrayal. I think he too realised by his expression.
"Come on, do it! Do it!" The other boy screamed.
I thrash, and their rough skin grates against mine, but I know it's useless. I scream too, knowing that no one can hear me here.
I will survive until tomorrow. I will.
A heavy hand gropes along my chest. "You sure you're sixteen, Nose? Doesn't feel like you're more than twelve." The other boys laugh.
Bile rises in my throat and I swallow the bitter taste.
"Wait, I think I found something!" His hand squeezes me. I bite my tongue to keep from screaming. More laughter.
Al's hand slips from my mouth. "Stop that," he snaps. I recognize his low, distinct voice.
When Al lets go of me, I thrash again and slip down to the ground. This time, I bite down as hard as I can on the first arm I find. I hear a scream and clench my jaw harder, tasting blood. Something hard strikes my face. White heat races through my head. It would have been pain if adrenaline wasn't coursing through me like acid.
The boy wrenches his trapped arm away from me and throws me to the ground. I bang my elbow against stone and bring my hands up to my head. A foot drives into my side, forcing the air from my lungs. I gasp and cough and claw at the back of my head.
Peter wraps a hand around my throat, moving me to the edge of the wall and lifts me up, his thumb wedged under my chin. His hair, which is usually shiny and smooth, is tousled and sticks to his forehead. His pale face is contorted and his teeth are gritted, and he holds me over the chasm as spots appear on the edges of my vision, crowding around his face, green and pink and blue. He says nothing. I try to kick him, but he dodges it. My lungs scream for air.
I hear a shout, and he releases me.
I stretch out my arms as I fall, gasping. The world dips and sways around me, and someone is on the Pit floor—Drew—screaming. I hear thumps. Kicks. Groans
"Hey!" His voice familiar.
He pushed back Al back into the wall and I heard him cry out in pain. I still had two other boys grabbing onto me and I used my leg to boot one of them in the stomach, they groaned but it wasn't enough for him to let go. Then a body charged at them and divided them so they were no longer grabbing onto me. He punched them both in the face with his fist, which was the time I used to get out of the way. I leaned against the wall as I stared to see who was fighting them off. It was Four.
As one aimed to hit Four, he grabbed his arm and punched him in the stomach causing them to lose balance which was the perfect timing to allow Four to throw him against the other person. He flipped one of them over as they bounced back and dodges the swing of the other. He turns back to Al and while Al was trying to go over to him, Four grabbed onto his neck and smashed his head against the wall. Looking back before him one of the them rose to hit feet, not for long though as he kicked them in the shin.
He stood there for a second to make sure no one would stand up again. The groans were let out from the boys as he walked over towards me, his look full of worry. He touched the sides of my elbows and gazed at me.
"You alright?" He asks me.
I gulped, "Yeah." I quietly answered.
I leaned slightly closer to him as I thought about what Al had done. Why him, out of all people?
"Come on. Let's go." Four said as he grabbed my arm to follow him.
I couldn't help but look back to see Al's face on the floor, emotionless.
Four followed me back to a room away from the rest, it was somewhere upstairs. When we entered the room, the lights were dim, but the spacing was open.
Four told me to sit on the bed and while I did, he walked away.
I stare at my arms that were scraped by the nails of the boys; they weren't bleeding but they were slightly red from the irritation. I looked to the floor where I allowed myself to concentrate.
What just even happened?
I kept a straight face on as I thought of all the possible reasons to why they wanted to push me off the wall. I came up with none.
Four turns off the bathroom light and gets an ice pack from the refrigerator in the corner of the room. As he walks toward me, I consider closing my eyes and pretending to be asleep, but then our eyes meet and it's too late.
"Your hands," I croak.
"My hands are none of your concern," he replies. He rests his knee on the mattress and leans over me, slipping the ice pack under my head. Before he pulls away, I reach out to touch the cut on the side of his lip but stop when I realize what I am about to do, my hand hovering.
What do you have to lose? I ask myself. I touch my fingertips lightly to his mouth.
"Quinn," he says, speaking against my fingers, "I'm all right."
"Why were you there?" I ask, letting my hand drop.
"I was coming back from the control room. I heard a scream."
"What did you do to them?" I say.
"I deposited Drew at the infirmary a half hour ago," he says. "Peter and Al ran. Drew claimed they were just trying to scare you. At least, I think that's what he was trying to say."
"He's in bad shape?"
"He'll live," he replies. He adds bitterly, "In what condition, I can't say."
"Here, put this on." Four grabbed a black jumper as the top I had on was ripped to pieces.
"That was my favourite top." I couldn't help but say before putting the jumper through my head and arms. I could smell the scent off the jumper but I tried to ignore it. At least he even helped me was all I thought.
Four kneeled down in front of me and moved a basin to his side, where it clatters. He dips a cloth into the water, letting it soak before he slowly pressed it on my hands.
The stinging shot through my nerves, I cringed at the pain and set my hand on top of four's.
I could sense Four looking up at me longingly.
"Sorry." I relaxed as I removed my hand and put it on my side.
"It's okay." He whispers as he moves the cloth gently around the cuts.
He's so focussed but I can't help but feel uncomfortable in the silence.
"I can't believe Al..." I started.
"-You're moving up through the ranks, and he's failing...It makes him hate himself and it makes him hate you. He's just afraid."
"I don't think he should be the one to be afraid." I slipped, indicating that he is infact not a divergent.
Four didn't seem to pick up on it though.
"I know but fear does something strange to people like Al. But not you." He pauses as he looks up to me.
"Fear doesn't shut you down, it wakes you up. I've seen it."
I looked to him blankly.
He stands up hovering over me.
This time I didn't fill the silence, I let it happen.
"The others won't be as jealous if you show some vulnerability. Even if it isn't real."
"You think I have to pretend to be vulnerable?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, I do." He takes the ice pack from me, his fingers brushing mine, and holds it against my head himself. I put my hand down, too eager to relax my arm to object. Four stands up. I stare at the hem of his T-shirt.
Sometimes I see him as just another person, and sometimes I feel the sight of him in my gut, like a deep ache.
"You're going to want to march into breakfast tomorrow and show your attackers they had no effect on you," he adds, "but you should let that bruise on your cheek show, and keep your head down."
The idea nauseates me.
"I don't think I can do that," I say hollowly. I lift my eyes to his.
"You have to."
"I don't think you get it." Heat rises into my face. "They touched me."
His entire body tightens at my words, his hand clenching around the ice pack. "Touched you," he repeats, his dark eyes cold.
"Not...in the way you're thinking." I clear my throat. I didn't realize when I said it how awkward it would be to talk about. "But...almost."
I look away.
He is silent and still for so long that eventually, I have to say something.
"What is it?"
"I don't want to say this," he says, "but I feel like I have to. It is more important for you to be safe than right, for the time being. Understand?"
His straight eyebrows are drawn low over his eyes. My stomach writhes, partly because I know he makes a good point but I don't want to admit it, and partly because I want something I don't know how to express; I want to press against the space between us until it disappears.
I nod.
"You should lie down. Get some sleep."
"Yeah." I nodded.
"I'll take the floor." He said before walking away.
Four sleeps on the floor and I sleep on his bed, on top of the quilt, breathing in the scent of his pillowcase. It smells like detergent and something heavy, sweet, and distinctly male.
The rhythm of his breaths slows, and I prop myself up to see if he is asleep. He lies on his stomach with one arm around his head. His eyes are closed, his lips parted. For the first time, he looks as young as he is, and I wonder who he really is. Who is he when he isn't Dauntless, isn't an instructor, isn't Four, isn't anything in particular?
Whoever he is, I like him. It's easier for me to admit that to myself now, in the dark, after all that just happened. He is not sweet or gentle or particularly kind. But he is smart and brave, and even though he saved me, he treated me like I was strong. That is all I need to know.
I watch the muscles in his back expand and contract until I try to fall asleep.
With much unsuccess I do not fall asleep, instead I toss and turn back and forth on the bed, a part of me wished I could just get up and leave, but that would seem rude even after him helping me.
And so instead I choose to stare up at the ceiling until day.