How Allegiant Should Have Ended

Chapter 1

Tris:

I thought I knew what pain was, but apparently I didn't. I do now. Pain is loosing someone close to you, someone's company you always took for granted. Pain is seeing everything crumble apart in your own hands, and there's nothing you can do but watch the world suffer. Pain is colliding with every obstacle put in your path, taking it's toll on your life.

Pain is being shot by someone you thought you could trust. This, this right now, this is pain.

A vision appears in front of me: my mother. She extends her hand out to me, beckoning for me to come to her, and I stare at her is disbelief. I don't have time to organize my thoughts. I only know that if I don't take her hand now, I may never again, because I will be gone.

I reach for my mother's hand, and then I see Tobias. He walks up to me and stands beside my mother. I slowly pull back my hand and stare up at them. I have a choice: I could die with my mother or live with Tobias. "I need you Tris," says Tobias. He says it in a honey-sweet tone that makes my heart melt.

My mother turns to look at him and smiles. It I didn't know any better, I'd say she's agreeing with him. She looks back at me, and whispers, "You deserve to live. There is so much more you need to do. I will be there for you when the time is right, whereas your life is slowly slipping away. Take what is yours, and never let it go. I love you, Beatrice. With all my heart." I stare at her blankly, unable to comprehend what she just said. She wants me to live without her? I open my mouth to say something back, but she vanishes, about as quickly as she appeared.

I glance over to Tobias, and he also speaks to me. "Be brave, Tris. The first time is always the hardest." He said those exact same words the first time I went into a simulation at Dauntless. But why is he telling me that now?

Something inside me screams to live, to continue my quest on the path to my destiny. Sixteen years of life is not enough for me. I haven't done nearly enough, in my eyes.

I spent too long pretending that my life isn't worth living. I was wrong. I have to live. For Tobias and Caleb, the two people closest to my heart. For Christina and Uriah, some of the best friends I could ever ask for. And last, for my parents, to do what they were not able to do: live.

I fight to live. But yet again, something is pulling me. It's not death this time, but life; my will to live. That will pushes me forward, to life.

My hands close around the bullet wound from David, pain searing through my body. I lift my head and see him slumped over in his chair. He slowly moves his head up and looks brain dead. He turns, and wheels out of the room. He doesn't notice me.

With one hand still on my stomach, I grab the edge of the table next to me and manage to pull myself up. My hand slips at first, causing pain to seer through my abdomen, but I quickly regain my hold as I latch on to the edge. I grit my teeth as I rise to my feet. I keep staring at him as I let go of the table, proving to him that I'm strong enough.

I turn my head and glance at the table I just let go of. Without a second thought, I grab a knife, anonymously left on top of it. David, looking confused at first, instinctively fumbles around in his jacket and finally grabs his gun. He holds is up at me, and fires. Nothing happens. I choke back a smile when he realizes he's out of bullets.

I stare down at the blade in my hands, and then back at him. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I don't like the idea of bringing harm to anyone, especially the weak, which is now what David is considering he doesn't have a functional weapon. I could just walk away and leave this in the past. I could drop the knife and follow him out the door, we could both go on with our lives. He would live, I would live, we'd be happy.

Only, that wouldn't make me happy. I think back to all the memories I've had since I first came to the Bureau. The man in front of me planned to have the entire population of Chicago brainwashed and forget everything about their future. Two minutes ago, this man shot me, and I almost died. This man does not care about the death of my mother. In fact, he's responsible for her death. My mother is worth fighting for, and this is one battle I will not back down from. This man does not deserve to live, and I accept that.

"This is for my mother," I say. I pull my arm back and launch the knife at his heart.