The Way Back

Chapter 14

TOBIAS POV

A machine beeps on my left. It is relentless and repetitive. I expect it to stop eventually, or at least quiet down, but it only seems to get louder.

"Mmmm," I hum, not awake enough to fully operate my mouth to say something. Although I want to grumble that someone needs to shut that damn thing off.

Pain is what brings me back fully, not the annoying sound. It shoots through every inch of me, especially in my head when I try to remember how I got this way. My mind comes up with nothing, so I open my eyes for answers.

The dim light above me is not nearly dim enough. The light blue walls are much more soothing to my eyes, so I focus on them instead as my muddled brain tries to catch up with the sight of my surroundings.

"Tobias," a woman says.

It hurts to turn my head, but I do anyway. The pillow beneath it helps. When I am able to see on my left, I notice the beeping machine as well as the IV that is inserted in the crook of my arm. Something—a vibe, maybe—indicated that I was hospitalized. Judging by the color of the room, I must be in Erudite. I don't like hospitals, but the soreness everywhere tells me that I was taken here for good cause.

"Tobias, how are you feeling?"

My eyes focus on the reason I even turned: the source of the voice. Surprisingly, my mother sits in the chair beside my bed. I must have been badly injured if she decided to visit me; I can't imagine why else she would care.

A groan leaves my throat, which is raw. I close my eyes and slur softly, "I've been better."

"I should call a nurse," she states.

My eyes fly open to reveal her arm reaching out to press a red button on the wall. "Please don't." The last thing I want right now is to be bothered.

"I really think it's a good idea. You've been through a lot, and it wouldn't hurt to be cautious."

The fear in her eyes is new. She hasn't looked at me like that since I was eight and being pummeled by Marcus.

"What exactly happened?" I ask, still groggy.

"You went out looking for Tris," she replies as memories of the basement slowly return. "You were ambushed along with four guards, who were killed. They beat you, for information, I think. The Incendiaries sent out a group to find you when they got a distress signal, and although they were able to capture the general there, they were too late, and..." She clears her throat, avoiding my gaze. "And..."

"And what?"

She takes a deep breath and reaches down to hold my left hand in hers. Mine feels heavy and tingly for some reason, and when I look down I realize why.

My pinkie is wrapped up in white gauze that stretches across my hand, but there isn't much to cover. I can tell that my finger is almost completely gone, with the second knuckle still intact. I must not feel it because I assume the side of my hand is thoroughly numbed.

I frown, speechless and thoughtless.

"Talk to me," my mother demands in a soothing voice, as to not upset me.

I open my mouth to speak and can't seem to find the words. When I finally do after staring at the space where the rest of my finger should be, I reply, "I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm too out of it with the pain killers to really think straight, but right now I don't really care much."

My mother looks at me like I've grown a second head. She must have expected me to explode. "You don't?"

Shaking my head, I lick my dry lips. "Well, it's gone, and that sucks," I admit, "but I have bigger things to worry about."