A Dying Light

SIX

(A/N: This song and "Before You Go" match the theme of this chapter)

⚠️Watch out for Trigger Warnings (TW)⚠️

Four hands out tests, and I notice my sleeves are loose. My scars show, and people laugh. My hands start to shake, as I know the new ones are bright red. I snatch the paper from Four, and he doesn't look at me. I start the test, and at the end of the Period, I hand it in. "Stay?" He asks me, and I nod, curiously. He's going to question my scars... I know. I sigh and take my seat again. Everyone leaves, apart from Eric. He stands in front of me. "You have a perfect life. Stop cutting for attention," Four stands, and I do too. He stares me in the eyes, and I scoff.
"Go fuck yourself," I tell him, and he laughs. I turn to Four, and he looks at his desk. "Sorry for the language," I say, and he laughs. "Eric deserves it," he walks over to my desk, and pulls down my sleeves, looks at my scars, then me. He looks at me the same way Tori did. "I'm seeing a therapist for this," I tell him, and he nods. I start to tell him about my father, and he runs his thumb over my scarred skin. His lips are slightly parted, and his eyes avert from my scars to my eyes. I don't move my eyes fast enough so he catches me staring at his lips. "I'm sorry about last night," I tell him, and he laughs. "You were flat out drunk, Tris. I'm surprised you remember," I blush, and we both laugh. I forget he is my teacher, and not some boy I am just talking to. He makes me want to close a gap between us, and I press my lips in a line. "Do..."I trail off. He doesn't seem like someone who would cut themselves. "Do you cut?" I ask, and he frowns at me. He shows me his left wrist. No cuts. "You're avoiding the question," I tell him, and he laughs. Nervously. He shows me his right, and it is riddled with old scars. "I did when I was your age," he says. He takes his left arm to scratch his neck. "I needed an escape from reality, and I didn't want to be here," I know what he means by "here". He means alive. I don't blame him, as I experience it now. "Continue to live, Tris. Please." His eyes show his pleading, and I almost gasp. I've memorized the signs of affection in men and women for writing, and he shows them now. Lips slightly parted, hand on his neck, dilated pupils. I ignore these signs. "There will be greater things in store for you."

⚠️TW - Su!c!de⚠️

"Hey, how's Will?" I ask Christina, wanting to know for one last time. Eric was sending me lots of hate messages, and I can't go to Tori, and I have too much pride to go to Four for condolences. I also called my father before I called Christina, and he sent me more hate.

I am at breaking point.

No medicine or therapy can heal my wounds, as they run too deep. My class knows about my cuts, and so does Four. I told the truth to the group, coming clean, confessing I will try to stop. I write Christina's note, trying to stop sobs from escaping my mouth, and she tells me how she is pregnant. "I want you to be the Godmother, Tris," I laugh, acting to be ecstatic, and accept. I write down about how great their child will be, how I wish I could meet their child. Help them grow, protect them from people like my father. I wish I could see their future, and tell myself everything will be okay when it's not. It will never be okay. I will never be okay.

I will be joining my mother, once more.

She passed from suicide, and that will be my death cause. I hope it won't be Lee's, as she deserves a happy life, as I know Caleb will guarantee. I write in the note all the happy times I've had with Christina, like drinking at the bar, and stumbling home at midnight. Like dancing in fields of grass and her hay fever acting up. Like how in winter she, Will, Al, and I sat and drank hot chocolates, and watched romcoms. How her smile brightened up my day after my Dad abused me.

"I wish this world wasn't so cruel. I wish leaving wasn't my last option.
I love you.
Tris."

She laughs alongside my fake one. She farewells me, and I tell her I love her. "I love you, Tris." She hangs up, and I read them over. I've ended them all with "I love you", because I love all my friends, and I've fought for too long. "Pugna est super," I whisper, my eyes firmly shut. which means "the fight is over". My fight is over, and I hope they could realize that, and forgive me. I skim my thumb over the dry paper where I wrote Four's name, and press it to my lips, softly. I think of him, his dark blue eyes, and full lower lip. I think of the time were I kissed him to get back at Eric. I now realize I wanted to be his, and him to be mine.

Funny the way things turn out.

I add more to Four's, tears streaming down my face, and sobs coming in thick and fast. The tears will be dried up by the time he gets this, I know. "Can you finish Rived Groom for me? I'm sure you'll put it together better than anyone else." I almost laugh, and I hope he will too. I hope he appreciates jokes as such. "I'm sorry, for not telling everything I could when I was alive," I start, and sob, another wave of tears pouring over my face. "First, my father was abusive, and I came to Hope for an escape. It never helped me, but one person did. I fell in love with them, as they worried about me in the little ways that annoy me. Now, thinking back, I'm smiling. I fell in love with Four Johnson. I'm sorry for being an idiot and realizing this sooner." I sob, with a faint smile on my face. I pull my box out. I see a rope, that will keep air from my lungs, and blood from my brain. I run my hands over its rough surface, and sob harder.