Bereavement

Chapter 6

Before I even know what I am doing, I am pulling the door open and walking inside the fear simulation room. I used to torture myself by going into my fear landscape often, reliving the same four fears that never changed and never became easier to face. It seems like the apex of masochism to go into my fear landscape now, when I am already miserable. But as I shrug off my jacket, I approach the syringe lying next to the computer with curiosity rather than dread.

The last time I went into my fear landscape was before I left the city to explore what was outside the confines of the fence. My fears had changed by then; instead of my usual fears, I was afraid of heights, confinement, becoming Marcus, and Tris dying. I wonder what I am scared of now, since I have lost just about everything.

I pick up the box, neglecting the use of the computer because nobody will be watching my fear landscape. Robotically, I take the syringe out of the black box and jab myself in the neck with the needle, not even flinching. I have done this so many times that I barely feel the pinch in the side of my neck.

Lying back on the reclined chair in the middle of the room, I close my eyes and wait for the serum to drag me under. It doesn't take long until I find myself standing on top of an enormous building.

I clench my jaw as a strong wind shoves me forward. I try to back up toward the middle of the ridiculously small rooftop, but the gusts don't relent. I am impelled forward until the tips of my boots are on the edge of the rooftop.

For some reason, I stretch my right foot out in front of me. Maybe it is my suicidal recklessness that causes me to do it, or maybe my mind knows that if I fall off I can end this terrifying situation. Whatever the reason, I step off the ledge.

I don't have time to do anything except gasp as I plummet to the ground, the sidewalk growing closer and closer every second. A searing pain spreads through me when I hit the ground that is gone is quickly as it came.

I take a deep breath just as a metal wall slams into my side, causing all the air to rush out of me along with a groan. That sounds like my life, not one second to enjoy some sort of relief.

I curl up on the hard, cold floor as four walls and a ceiling unforgivingly crush me. I scream into my teeth before realizing that I need to get myself under control if I want to get out of this box. But I can't think. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

A vivid recollection enters my brain, where Tris was in here trying to comfort me, but ended up getting caught in a lie when I asked her why her heart was racing. It clued me in to the fact that she liked me, and I was elated when she admitted to it. The memory is enough to distract me, and suddenly I am not enclosed in the tight space anymore.

I stand up immediately, grateful for the ability to move around freely now that I'm not trapped. But when I turn around, the apprehension is back.

A gun lies on a table in front of me, and further away an unfamiliar, forgettable woman stands facing me, blinking but otherwise unmoving.

My fear of my capability to kill has returned.

I am dreading this, but I know that there is no escaping what I have to do. I know it's not real, but that doesn't make the guilty knot in my stomach unravel.

Picking up the gun, I click the safety off and aim at the woman in front of me. She still doesn't move, just stares back at me with empty, soulless eyes. Maybe if I tell myself that she wants to die like the way I often crave death, then it won't be so bad.

The gun goes off, but I don't remember pulling the trigger. Nevertheless, the woman's head flies backwards, and she crumples to the ground in a lifeless heap. I drop the weapon when I see what I have done and turn away with a disgusted shudder.