Always

Chapter 4

I step back and thrust my foot into the door with all the force I can muster. It flies open to reveal Caleb sprawled out; dead. Tris is lying on the ground, hands pressed to her head. David stands above her all of his weight on the back of his chair. His gun is trained between her eyes. I don't have to think, just shoot.

David drops to the ground with a thud. I rush over to Tris. Blood is streaming from the back of her head, and from her side. I rip my shirt off and tear it in two. Wrapping the smaller half around her head, I use the other half to stop the blood pouring out of her side. Somewhat satisfied that it will hold, I scoop her up and run towards the hospital wing.

I race down hallways, struggling to remember which twists and turns I need to take to get there. I whip around a corner and run smack into Christina. She stumbles back slightly but manages to stay on her feet.

"I heard gunshots, and I came running." She gasps, taking in the girl in my arms. "Oh my God! Tris!" Streams of tears begun to run down her face as she strts to panic.

"Christina. Christina, calm down. You need to go get a doctor! She's been shot, and she hit her head pretty badly." She nods.

"Okay. Okay." She takes off headed towards the hospital wing, me following behind. I try my best to cradle Tris and avoid jostling her too much, but it is not an easy thing to do while running. Fortunately, I don't have to wait long before four doctors appear around the corner pushing a gurney. Christina is behind them giving directions and shouting at them to hurry up. I slow down as they pull up.

"Quickly, lay her down!" One of the doctors orders and ushers to the gurney. I lay her down gently, and they begin to wheel her away. I run beside them, asking if she will be all right the whole way there. Each time I ask, I am ignored. Finally, I grab one of the doctors' arms.

"She's going to be okay right?!" My words are rushed. I'm worried; so worried.

"Sir, I need you to wait here." By this time we've arrived at the hospital wing, and we're in a sort of reception area.

"No! I need to know that she is okay!" The doctor motions to a nurse and she comes running over. Christina is right on her heels.

"Sir, you need to calm down!" She yells, but Christina waves her off. The nurse gives he a doubtful glance, but she remains silent and walks away. I start towards the operation room, determined to see that Tris is alright. However Christina has different plans. She pushes me by the shoulders into a chair.

"The doctors will let you know when you can see her. For now, you will have to be patient." I jump out of my chair.

"No, you don't understand, Christina. I love her. I love her so much. She is the only person I've ever loved."

"I know, Tobias, I know! Don't you think I felt the same when Will died?"

"It's not the same Christina! You did not have to sit through this waiting. This unknowing of whether or not your loved one will die or live!" By now we are both shouting.

"You know what? You're right! I didn't, but I also didn't have what you have. I didn't have hope. Not even a sliver. Will was dead, not injured, not dying, dead." That shut me up. Apparently it shut everyone else in the area up as well, for there was silence. You could hear a pin drop.

"I'm sorry." I sighed. "I'm sorry." Christina's face softens.

"Me too. There is no use fighting here. It's not going to do us any good." I fall back into the chair. I place my head in my hands trying to wish away the headache that decided to make an appearance sometime during our little shouting fit. A nurse hurries over. Relief that we're done shouting is smeared all over her face.

"Can I get you two, anything?" When I don't answer, Christina lets out a sigh and plasters a fake smile on her face.

"Coffee would be great, please." She quickly eyes me up and down. "Oh, and get him a shirt." The nurse nods and quickly scurries away. Christina turns and glares at me.

"You could at least be polite." I don't answer her and pretty soon we drift into a comfortable silence, not saying anything but a polite thank you when the nurse delivered our coffees, and brought me a shirt.

For the next few hours while they operated on Tris, my body ran on autopilot. I didn't really feel myself going through the functions of drinking that coffee, that horrible burnt coffee. I didn't feel myself scratching at the irritating fabric of my shirt. I was numb. All sounds were blocked out and I was left to my own thoughts. What if she dies? What if I was too late?