Resurgence (Life After Allegiant - Divergent Fanfiction)

Chapter Twenty Three

There’s a knock on the door and we both turn to see Myra standing awkwardly in the door frame.  I look down at my half- taken off pants, then back at her. She seems to take that as a gesture to come in, which is fine by me. Tobias lifts himself off the bed and sits in the chair to my right side. As Myra gets closer she constantly looks at Tobias with a scared look in her eyes, I know it’s because she believes she wasn’t able to revive him when he died.  The tiredness from today has taken over me and I can’t be bothered to explain why he is still alive. In fact I can’t find the effort to say anything at all so I just communicate with my eyes. No one else speaks. Myra comes close to my side and takes a needle out of a plastic wallet and some sort of thread. Along with some gel or liquid in a white bottle and some wipes.

“Couldn’t you just inject her with that serum that makes injuries recover like almost instantly?” Tobias asks, breaking the atmosphere of silence but not breaking the awkwardness.

Myra looks at him and waits a few seconds before she answers, “The healing serum is only used for things that aren’t minor like this. Otherwise diseases such as infections will create resistant strains to the serum and then we will have no means of protection against them. That means even an illness that is so simple to cure now with a small dose of healing serum could kill us if it develops to be resistant.  The results could be devastating.”  She sounds like she’s reciting a book. She probably is. I can see the Erudite in her, it pumps around her veins.  

After Myra’ s explanation no one else has anything to say. She tends to my wound, I expect to feel pain while she stiches me up but I feel nothing. I don’t know whether my numbness is due to the injury overriding my feelings or the remembrance of Zeke’s death replaying on my mind. Maybe it’s a mixture of both. To my side I can see the same look of nothingness in Tobias’ eyes, his eyes like an unprotected look into his grieving soul.  I’m used to seeing him so stable even in situations that I couldn’t handle myself so seeing him like this makes me feel like I need to protect him with my life. That is the only emotion I can feel and I take my mind off it.

I close my eyes and try to focus on something positive. My mind drifts to thinking about the baby. Happy thought replace the ones of death, the prospect of new life one of the most uplifting things. That is until I remember what Caleb said, “Maybe if you and Tobias have children you can name one after me, in my remembrance.” I can feel the sadness trickling back to me so I open my eyes swiftly and to my surprise Myra has left the room and I am left alone with Tobias. He looks spaced out, his sight focused on a spot on the floor, I can almost see him thinking. It’s like when you take the face off a clock and you can see the clockwork spinning.

I take his hand, which he doesn’t respond to, and say softly, “Let’s go home.”  At the word home, Tobias snaps out of his daydream, we both need to get out of here. The memories swirling around the room, stabbing us, with guilt and sadness, from every direction.  He doesn’t reply but he nods, I accept that all his heart will let him do, his heart is mourning.  I remember what that feelings is like, it hits me that I’ve felt what he is feeling too many times, it’s like I’m immune to it. I have a cold stone heart.

After getting a slight response from Tobias, I let go off his hand and swing my body to the side so my legs land on the floor. As I push my weight back onto my legs, when I try to stand up, my legs wobble but then get used to my weight and I’m able to walk around the hospital bed to face Tobias. He slowly looks up and his arms wrap around my waist. He pulls me towards his body and he rests his head on my stomach. I stroke his unwashed hair comfortingly, watching my fingers divide his dark brown hair lightly. The motherly instincts I suddenly feel for him are so wrong but they feel natural. I can only imagine what he was like when he found out that I had died, a pain that not even I can envision. A few minutes pass before we finally break off and start to leave the hospital room behind. The smell of antiseptic is potent as we enter the corridor and head towards a door that has a big bold poster saying “Have you washed your hands?”  On the poster a man stares at you, making you feel that the dirt on your hands are like gloves.  As we get to the end of the corridor, we spray our hands with a water - like liquid that causes little bits of pain into the cuts of my hand.  While we rub the painful liquid into our hands the door with the poster on opens, very close to us. A girl with short brown hair comes in, her eyes sunken into her skull, the look of depression. The girl reminds me of Anna, the resemblance between them increases the more I think about it.  I take a look at her clothes, stained and torn and covered in fresh blood. She looks like she’s sleeping on the street, but worst of all she looks like she’s been attacked brutally. I can’t help but feel bad for her. She glances at me. I glance back. We both turn to each other.  I know she’s going to say something and I’m not sure I want to hear it.