Bereavement

Chapter 3

(WARNING: This chapter contains thoughts/discussion of suicide. Please do not read if you are not comfortable with it. You can skip to the bottom for a chapter summary, or just skip to the bottom and scroll up to the page break.)

Angst and anger course through my body, like the alcohol in my bloodstream that fuels them on. Normally drinking relaxes me, but tonight it cannot quell the emotions stirring inside me.

It must have been a combination of my run-in with Marcus and my many thoughts of Tris that put me in such a bad mood. Whatever the reason, I'm drinking a lot tonight. Way more than usual, and I'm not going to bother denying it. Every time I empty a bottle, I return to the fridge for another one. I didn't think I was addicted to alcohol before tonight, but now I am starting to reconsider it.

I. Can't. Stop.

The room tilts as I stumble back to the refrigerator, haphazardly throwing open the door and fumbling inside for yet another glass bottle. Tris stands in the corner of the living room, nervously chewing on her nails as she watches me.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself," she tells me worriedly as I sit back down on the couch. "You can't keep trying to drown your pain in drinking. It only makes things worse."

"What do you know about pain?" I slur. The words are so childish and inaccurate, and I realize that the moment they come out of my mouth. Of course, she knows all about pain: her friend killed himself, she killed her other friend, her parents died for her, her brother betrayed her, more of her friends died, she was shot several times...The list goes on.

If there was ever anyone who knew pain, it was Tris Prior.

She rolls her eyes at me. "Trust me, I've had my fair share of pain, Tobias. I know what it's like."

I shake my head. "No, you don't," I counter. "You didn't have to lose me. You have no idea what that's like." A scoff escapes my mouth. "Although, that probably wouldn't be the same thing because you didn't love me as much as I loved you."

Tris's jaw drops, an incredulous expression setting in on her face. "How dare you even suggest that I didn't—"

I cut her off. "Well, you obviously didn't!" We both flinch at how loud and hostile my voice is. "You wouldn't have gotten yourself killed if you loved me, especially for that pathetic excuse of a brother. So basically, now my life is hell just so Caleb can waste his life being a nerd in a lab."

Tears well up in her eyes, making me partially regret my words. "I didn't just die for him," she chokes out. "I died for Chicago, for everyone's memories. So that everyone could have a better future. Including you."

"What's the point?!" I shout. She jerks back in alarm. "Do I look like I have a better life now that you're gone?"

The answer is obvious: I don't. I can imagine what I look like right now, with messy hair and bloodshot eyes. I am miserable, and it keeps getting harder and harder to drag myself through each day. Simple tasks, like getting out of bed, are starting to become feats for me. And then when I come home at night and just want to rest, I am unable to sleep without frequent nightmares. Feelings of tranquility are becoming so rare as time passes that I no longer count on them to relieve me.

There is no relief anymore.

"This is torture," I say honestly, pushing myself up from the couch. I have to stop and close my eyes for a second because I am so dizzy and intoxicated. "This life...it's not worth it." Tears finally spill down my cheeks, and I let them fall.

I watch Tris through my now blurred vision. She sighs shakily and says, "It is worth it. There are people here who you love and who love you. You are not alone."