Inferno

Chapter 8: Loathing & Bonds

A/N: Griff is a king and that's just the facts. Thoughts, comments, questions?

Bellamy's mind seemed to be working in overdrive, something she wasn't getting paid for. It wasn't very fair, considering the fact that she felt like an overworked public servant at this point.

But on the other hand, she did have a hell of a lot going on upstairs in her brain.

First—the fact that she was a damn Divergent. That raised millions of questions that she had been forcing down over the past few days. She didn't really have a choice; it wasn't as if she could just go up and ask for help.

It also presented several complications in literally all of her life plans. For instance, if she was going to join the Initiates in two years, then she would be discovered. Certainly found out. Certainly murdered, just like George.

And as much as she loved thrill-seeking, murder didn't sound like the best way to go.

What did Divergent even really mean? She hadn't known anyone who had lived to tell the tale. Divergents were dangerous, they presented problems for all of society. She was supposed to be stopping problems, not creating them.

Second—Whatever the hell was about to go down was something that left her on edge. Whatever it was, it was going to be bad. And if things were going to be bad, she needed more friends than just Four and Tori. As much as she hated to admit it, Griff and Vi would be decent allies. Not even friends, just allies.

A problem for later that day, she supposed.

Third—The fact that Tris had just endured a near-murder attempt. Something becoming more and more common for Bellamy to encounter, at this point.

Fourth—The fact that Vi was being used and it just wasn't fair. She wanted retribution and for people to pay for that. Vi was by no means her friend. But she didn't deserve what was happening to her.

And fifth—The Sheer, which she was still absolutely damned and determined to climb.

With those five things securely floating around in her brain, she was more than jittery. But if there was one thing that Bellamy was good at, it was compartmentalizing how she felt. Shoving these feelings down into an abyss that she liked to call her stomach, Bellamy made her way over to Tris.

Things had gone sour after last night, that was certain.

Will had turned up dead this morning. An apparent self-inflicted end. Tris was quietly sitting by herself, eyes watching the wall in front of her.

Normally, this is where Bellamy would have quipped something clever and tried to make the girl laugh, using her loudness as a coping mechanism. But not today. Not with something like this.

Bellamy quietly took a seat next to her, just sitting in silence. Tris didn't even look her way, she just sighed deeply.

"You know, it's not your fault." Bellamy said quietly.

"You sound like your brother."

Bellamy's gray eyes flicked over to Tris, focusing on her. "Then you should know that he's right."

"He did that—because—because of m—"

"No, he did that because he's a coward who can't accept the consequences for his actions. But—" Bellamy cut herself off. "That doesn't dull your pain. I get that, believe me, I get that. But you can't blame yourself for his actions. Believe me, it doesn't help."

At that, Tris's gaze focused on the younger girl. So much grief and quiet strength was held in those gray eyes of hers. Why? What the hell had Bellamy seen that the rest of them hadn't?