✧∘ଂ ࿐ ཾ
[ xii. twelve ! ]
❛ sᴋɪɴ ᴡᴀs ᴘᴀɪɴ ❜
SHE WAS RANKED FOURTH. Her name imprinted on the glowing screen right below Ben's on the scoreboard, right ahead of Will. Fourth. I can work with that, she thought to herself. A flooding of emotions welled up within her, she was proud of her achievement, but terrified of the voice that lingered in the dark. The voice that had threatened her not to climb the board on the final rankings. And she had.
Tara decided to ignore those drops of fear forming on her forehead, spilling down her temples — at least for now. She did not want to melt into the floor in front of the others, hands covering her face as she whimpered in fear. Instead, she chose to pat herself on the shoulder: she had done something, after all.
She had proved herself strong, and if Mother could be here with her at this time, Tara would be running around with a neon sign that said 'fuck you'. She couldn't, but she knew Mother would know her ranking sooner or later. Working for the Erudite government came with its perks, and seeing the blue-clad people roam the dark halls of Dauntless every now and then, made Tara hitch a breath in her throat. She was waiting to see that familiar face linger in the shadows. But for the moment, she was satisfied enough for being the highest-ranked girl.
"This is fucking bullshit," a female voice materialized. The brunette turned her head and saw the bulky girl in her peripheral view. Tara rolled her eyes as the girl continued. "I'm way stronger than her — and better."
The corners of Tara's lips twitched upward for a split second, her right eyebrow slightly arched. She knew Molly was referring to her, because she had been ranked higher than her on the board, and an immense feeling of victory painted her features.
"Totally," Drew agreed, casting a cautious glance towards the said brunette.
"I would crush her in a fight," Molly continued, stomping her feel like a child.
"Oh really?" This had peaked Tara's interest and she had spun around on her heel, facing them with crossed arms. Her smile was replaced with a daunting glare. "Let's have a go at it then," she said, waving her hands threateningly. "Come on, I don't bite."
Molly's nose flared as she inhaled deeply, fists clenched at either side of her, mind spinning in a whirl of emotions. She was like an animal, searching for its prey, but Tara was right in front of her. Drew cast wary glances behind them, scared of finding their instructors face right next to his, but he didn't.
A few seconds of hesitation passed. The other Initiates gathering around them in a circle, clammy hands draped around themself in anticipation, jaws slightly tense. No one dared to chant their names; no one dared to utter a single breath, their faces painted with deception and excitement. They breathed in unison; shared the same drops of sweat forming along their hairline; the same heartbeat. They were one.
A feeling arose inside Tara's gut. It was love and hated the crowd around them. Watch me, she thought. Hear me roar — wow that sounded even more pathetic in my head. She grimaced to herself and shook her head, brushing the strands of hairs that had fallen in front of her face behind her ears. She made sure her sight was clear and took a deep breath, waiting for movement.
Molly moved like a giant, slow and sure of her action, but with fists like iron. Tara had seen it coming before the bigger girl even inched closer to her, that was her way of fighting and Molly's tell was as obvious as a neon sign. It was an easy dodge, leaning her body to the right, her free hand colliding with the side of Molly's face in an uppercut. The girl grunted, the fire behind her eyes.
"Too slow," Tara taunted.
"Shut u—" Molly was interrupted by the firm hands placed on her arm. There was a crease between Peter's eyebrows as he whispered something in her ear, causing the girl's shoulders to slack, anger lacing her features even more.
Tara arched a brow.
Molly pushed Peter away from her and staggered slowly up to Tara, finger pointed at her chest. "This isn't over."
She couldn't help but to pout tauntingly, placing a hand gently over her heart. "So we're not breaking up?"
"I—"
"Let's go," Peter warned. There was something behind the mask of his features, a plan; a thought; something Tara could not understand. But she saw it, and it was enough. She felt uneasy shadows creep up on her from behind, like spiders slowly crawling, prickling her skin. She shuddered, blew out a frustrated breath and turned her back to the crowd of Initiates that had receded.
The minutes seemed to blur into hours, and she found herself avoiding the Mess Hall that evening — avoiding everyone, if she was being honest with herself. Tara couldn't put her mind to what was bothering her, if it was the look behind Peter's eyes or the shadow of a person that had threatened all those nights ago. Or if it were those damn eyes that she hadn't been able to get out of her mind all day.
She stood leaning over the Chasm, the hint of a smile lingering in the corners of her lips, but with fear hidden in the colour of her eyes. Her hands were clapped in front of her, fiddling as she leaned over the railing, gaze tracing the blur of water beneath her. Her ears roared with the sound of the water colliding with the stone at the bottom, and she felt her nose crinkle to the humid smell that seemed to linger in the air. It was chaos, but at the same time it was peaceful.
Even over the sound, she felt his presence before he announced himself. "I was looking for you."
She forced herself to keep her face neutral, biting the insides of her cheek as Edward's face came into her peripheral view in the dim light. "Is that so?" It was the only words she could muster.
"Didn't see you after the thing with Molly." It seemed he didn't have much to say either.
"I wasn't hiding, if that's what you think."
"I know that," he said, but uncertainty lingered behind his words. Edward's eyes glossed over the water beneath them, shifting quickly from side to side. He didn't know what to say, so he said the first thing that came to mind. "Did you eat?"
"Yes," Tara lied.
"What did you think of the roasted duck, I thought I tasted weird," Edward asked, scratching the back of his neck.
"I thought it was fine, duck always tastes weird."
He murmured amusingly to himself, the corners of his lips twisting upwards. "Funny you say that, because it was Lasagna for dinner."
She puffed out a breath. "Dipshit," she said, kicking his shoe.
Silence hung like a thick cloud in the air; comforting and suffocating. Edward shifted his weight between his heels, fingers dancing along the railing as he nibbled on his lower lip, fighting with himself in his head. Tara glanced up at him for a split second, and as if she had pressed a button, one of the fighting sides won.
"I'm glad we made it," he said finally. "I'm glad you're here with me. And even if I'll never forget myself for what happened between us, and even if I'll probably never understand it either... I'm glad you're here." He turned around and leaned his weight on the railing, eyes looking into the corridos behind them. She glanced at him. "I don't understand what happened to you, but I know you good enough that you won't tell me anyway. It just... I... I don't know."
"It's okay," was all that Tara could force out of her mouth. She felt the tug in her heart, a shivering breath threatening her lungs. Her grip fastened on the railing and she struggled not to avoid his eyes.
Edward stared at her as if waiting for her to say something.
Tara closed her eyes. "I don't know what to say..."
He turned around and faced the Chasm again. "It's okay, you don't have to say anything," he said calmly, without him a hint of anger.
His knuckles slipped against hers and she froze, inhaling a deep breath, struggling to keep her gaze on the flowing water beneath her. She swallowed and blinked a few times. Edward drew his hand back, noticing the way her shoulders had tended by his touch. Her mind was with war in itself. Stay away, it said. Come back, another voice said.
They stood there for a while, not knowing what to say, and wanting to say everything their mouths could muster.
Tara inched her hand closer to his so that their knuckles were touching again. She saw the relief flow across his face from the corner of her eyes, and the same feelings flushed over her cheeks. She bit her teeth down so hard a headache was forming, but she didn't stop herself. Tara's hand slipped behind his and for a moment their palms were pressed against each other, both clammy with nervousness and anticipation. Slowly, her fingers slipped in between his and Edward gave her a reassuring squeeze once they were in place.
It's okay.
His skin was safety and pain.
His hand was pain. It was all she had grown up to know. Skin was pain; ice-cold and hard. But she couldn't stop the fluttering uproar forcing its way across her skin as she felt his palm pressed against her own. Flickers of past memories soared past her eyes as she closed them. Memories of skin, memories of pain. The feeling of Father's hands all over her, underneath her shirt and then in her face. One blow. Two blows. Darkness. Skin was pain, Tara knew that.
But as she stood next to the boy who had once been her first and only friend, nothing hurt. His skin was soft, yet the tip of his knuckles was harsh and red from the combat training they had endured. The tips of his fingers felt like silk against her hand as he brushed them back and forth. She knew this skin wouldn't hurt her — at least that's what she told herself. Yet a voice inside her head was screaming for him to let go. But she knew that if he would, she would feel empty.
She saw his head turn to look at her and Tara swallowed the lump in her throat. The lump that would not go down. It took her a few seconds to build up the courage to look into his eyes, those damn eyes. She would never forget them, the way they seemed to soften as they washed over her, and she found herself drowning in them. Edward's lips parted slightly, and she didn't know if she had been imagining it or not, but his face seemed to inch closer. Tara knew what was happening because it had happened all those years ago.
But it became too much.
In an instant Tara had dropped his hands and she felt her feet take a few steps back, an indescribable look painted on her features. Edward opened his mouth to speak, but she was already running away.
IT STARTED SOFTLY. A single breath; a single heartbeat. Then it grew worse. A painful cry; blood everywhere. Tears streamed down his cheeks, his temples, and collided with the floor. Red paint on a blank canvas. Tears of crimson, thick like honey, warm like the sun, spilling through the gaps of his fingers as he let out another cry from the floor.
Tara's eyes flung open and in an instant she was standing on the concrete floor, the icy surface sending chills up her spine. For a split second she recoiled, her head dizzy because she had stood too quickly. She went directly to his bed because she knew that voice even in her sleep. She stepped on some warm clothes on the floor that almost caused her to slip, but as her hands patted down on the soft surface of his bed, she only felt fabric.
Another cry came from the darkness. Her heartbeat quickened, a shaky breath escaping her lips and she wetted them with her tongue. She didn't dare call out to him, the darkness terrified her.
His tears of crimson had become strings falling down his face, painting the floor in a way one might depict Helios, the Greek God of Sun, with golden rays escaping his aura in a godlike way. But nothing about the boy on the floor was godlike, nothing was beautiful anymore. It was simply... nothing.
A female voice shouted to turn on the light and she heard a few staggering steps to the corner of the room before everything lit up in an instant. Tara looked down at her feet and realized that she hadn't stepped on someone's warm clothes, but she had stepped in blood. Warm, dark, seething blood painted the floor. She hesitated, her eyes slowly following the trails of crimson.
Please, she pleaded inside her head. Oh God, please. Don't be right, please don't be right.
But she was always right.
Edward laid on the cold floor, his face closed in a grimace, his skin pale and clammy. Every few seconds he would twist, releasing a cry of pain, not like one of those guys being tortured in the old Tarantino movies that Mother had shown Tara, but worse. It had a raw quality, the real mess of a person consumed by pain that knew no end or limit. Then he would go quiet, panting and shaking.
For a few moments, Tara knew no words, she knew no movement, no thoughts. She was empty, a statue frozen in place by the horror playing out before her eyes.
"Oh my God!" Christina was the first one to react audibly.
A breath hitched in Tara's throat as Edward cried out in pain. "Get it out!" His voice was harsh from all the screaming, his body wiggling from side to side, unable to lay still. "Pull it out!"
Christina ran forward but was stopped by a hand on her arm. "Don't," Will said, trying to muster up a calm voice, "leave it."
"Are you kidding?! We have to take that out!" the dark-skinned girl spat out.
"No," Tara had found her voice. "If you'll take it out now, he'll probably bleed to death." The words felt like knives to her gut, she feared them as they twisted deeper into her.
The panicked murmurs of the other Initiates became muffled, as if Tara had pushed herself underwater. Her brain stuttered for a moment, her eyes taking in more light than necessary, forcing her to witness the scene playing out in front of her. Every part of her went on pause, waiting for her mind to catch up. Never before had Tara noticed how time was so much like water; that it can pass by slowly, one drop at a time, even freeze, or rush by in a blink. The next time her mind had caught up, she saw Myra's body hunched over Edward's, and even though anger seemed to boil within her, she was unmovable.
Then she heard it, like a soft whisper amongst the other voices. Her name. Chantara. Chantara. Chantara. She knew that voice even in her sleep. Like a waterfall, she rushed forward and grabbed the neck of Myra's shirt and pulled her away from his body, ignoring the loud sound she made as the thin girl collided with the floor. Tara kneeled beside him, her kneecap soaking in the pool of blood.
"I'm here." She didn't recognize her own voice. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here."
"Chanty... Please, get it out." Edwards lower lip trembled with each breath. It hurt to see him like this, to see him be vulnerable for the first time. "Just pull it out like a bandaid."
"You know I can't," she whispered, hands placed awkwardly at her knees. She did not know what to do with them. Tara felt a hand squeeze her shoulder uncomfortably. She spun around in an instant and pushed the person away. "Get back," she threatened, but her voice was wavering. She pushed strands of dark hair behind her ears and cleared her throat. "Everybody stay back! Someone go get a medic, a doctor, a fucking dentist — I don't care, just get someone."
She was met with silence.
"Well, chop-chop, you heard the girl," Ben commanded Al who stood next to him, patting him on the back.
"Ben you miserable lump of muscle," Tara began, pointing a finger at the boy who had just tried to squeeze her shoulder. "Make yourself useful and run get an instr— Four, go get Four!"
He saluted but seemed to realise that the time for jokes had passed, his skin turning ghostly pale. "Yeah, on it."
"Chantara." His voice had become a whisper.
Edwards grey shirt was stained dark by sweat and blood as he breathed heavily on the floor. His palm was resting on his chest and she noticed his finger crawling towards her (or where he believed she was). Tara bit the inside of her cheek, her pulse rising again as she looked back at what had happened earlier that evening. But then a thought flashed before her eyes: This might be the last time I'll be able to hold his hand, and in an instant, she had grabbed him. She pushed away from the unnerving feeling of it all and focused on his features, on his hand that gripped tightly onto hers.
"Don't let go," Edward said.
The words were stuck inside her throat, she squeezed his hand.
Somewhere in the corner of the room, a girl was crying. Tara knew from the sound of her small wails that it was Myra, and a part of her envied her for the feeling she could so easily show. Tara wanted to scream, she wanted to claw her way through the crowd of Initiates and find the guilty one. She wanted to claw at herself for not being able to muster the words she wanted to speak.
Time was a freezing pool of water in that room, passing slowly as Edward's skin became paler and clammier for each minute. How much can a person bleed? She asked herself as she watched the crimson coloured honey drip out between his fingers that clutched the knife. Tara had seen death many times, and when it was her turn, they would greet each other like old friends. But she had never seen so much blood come out from someone's eye socket, she did not know how much he could lose before he...
Tara did not realise she was crying until she saw the drops of tear dampen his shirt, and felt her lungs scream for air. It was a choked cry, a part of her still did not want the others to see her cry, but as she watched life slip away from Edward she couldn't restrain herself any longer.
"I've never heard you cry," Edwards said in a low tone so that no one else could hear. "I wish I could see it."
"I can promise you, you don't," Tara said, taking a deep breath.
"Chantara, if this is it... There's something I—"
"Don't say that." She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing more tears to spill down her cheeks. "And why do you still call me Chantara?"
He grimaced. "I liked that name. Your name."
"Well, it's Tara now," she countered. Her old name reminded her of her past, and it was a part of her she had killed the day she jumped through that hole and burnt her clothes. She did not exist anymore. "Anyway try to lay still, a medic is on their way, and so is Four. It'll be alright... You will be okay. And we'll figure out who did this and I'm going to carve them up like a ribbon with a butterknife—"
"Geez." Was that a laugh? "You might be more morbid now than you were before," Edward said, his words becoming slower. "I stand corrected."
She pressed her free hand to his chin, and saw him flinch under her touch, just like she had done earlier. It took her a moment to realize it was because he hadn't seen her coming. "Let's keep the talking to a minimum, at least until that knife is out of your eyes."
"Mhmm."
Time was like water dripping from a faucet, steady but slot. However soon the sound of footsteps came into range and the people around her started to scatter to their beds. Authoritative voices were echoing off the walls, shouting orders in every direction as even more lamps flashed everywhere. Tara felt suddenly dizzy. She didn't recall the female medic talking to her as the others gathered around Edward, not more than that her face was pale in the light. She felt her hand slip away from his and saw the flash of panic paint across his features as he reached for her. Tara held in another cry, her throat tightening as she watched them carry him away on a stretcher.
She stayed on the floor, eyes trailing over the spilt blood that someone was cleaning up.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to get ahold of her spinning head, and when she opened them again, the room seemed quieter. The boy who was cleaning had gone, and most Initiates had gathered around their beds. She met his gaze in the distance, and she realized that he had been looking at her whilst talking to Ben. There was a crease between his eyebrows, the shadows of his face painting harsh lines across his skin. He said something to the boy and patted him on his shoulder before he way his way over to her.
Four kneeled beside her. "Tara," he spoke, his voice wakening her from her trance. Even though he wore the same hard expression that she had grown used to, she saw flashes of another person beneath his skin. Someone entirely different.
She mumbled inaudible, her eyes staring into his like a ghost. She was there, but her mind was elsewhere.
Four said something that she didn't hear and when she failed to reply he reached out to grab her shoulder. She made the slightest flinch, barely noticeable to anyone but him, and it was enough to make him pause. "He'll be alright," Four started, before slowly placing his hand on her shoulder. It was nothing like when Ben had done it. His grip was warm and comforting against the fabric of her shirt. Tara inhaled a deep breath. "They told me his bed is closest to yours, I need you to tell me if you saw or heard something — anything."
She shook her head.
"Are you sure?"
Tara nodded.
Four's lips pursed and under the light of the room, she saw his features soften slightly. It tugged on his gut watching her like this, face stained with teas, hands and clothes stained with blood. There was a hopelessness in her gaze that was impossible to read. "Are you okay?" He asked. "Do you need to talk to anyone, or maybe some fresh air?"
She shook her head again and fiddled with her hands. "Can we take this tomorrow? I just... I —"
"Of course." Four felt relieved to have gotten some kind of audible reply from her. He squeezed her shoulder lightly and stood. "Try to get some sleep."
"Hmm," Tara mumbled, and before she knew it her hand had gone to her shoulder where his had just been. It felt cold, empty as if something was missing.
She watched him leave the sleeping quarters and caught him glancing back at her a few times. She blinked away the last of her tears and stood, quickly making her way to the faucet. The water was ice cold as she splashed it against her face, cooling down her swollen eyes and cheeks. How much had I cried? She didn't even want to think about it. Pathetic. She drowned herself in her hands, the water slipping through her fingers just like the blood on Edward's hands. The image rattled her to the core and she quickly turned the faucet off.
She changed her clothes that had gotten stained and went beneath the warm sheets of her bed, turning to the wall in case someone thought of speaking to her. Tara gripped her sheets around her shoulders and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears back into their sockets. She saw everything repeat before her, the blood, his voice, his hand — everything.
"Let it be a dream," she whispered to herself. "Just a nightmare."
The flowing water had caught up to her as her mind registered what had just happened. And just like that, she was drowning.
✧∘ଂ ࿐ ཾ
[ xii. ali's note ! ]
wow look who finally updated....
i want to apologize again for the painfully long wait, and I also want to thank you all for your patience and for still reading and supporting this book. I appreciate each and every one of you
I really hope you liked this angsty and sad chapter and that it made up for the long wait!! pls let me know your thoughts
also, are you team Edward or team Four?