Pit

Chapter 12

So here's your warning that Tobias has a bit of a mouth this chapter. Once again, the reasoning behind this is that he has changed from war. In Chasm he swore often, but Tris somewhat mellowed him out. In tough situations though, well...

TOBIAS POV

The figure at the end of the hall crumples at the same time that Tris does.

My shot came too late.

It is bewildering, the way time moves in slow motion whenever something drastic happens. My head becomes fuzzy as I collapse onto my knees beside her, as if I am in another dimension where I am viewing reality through a murky lens.

Blood is a common theme in my life. From the time I could walk, it almost made a daily appearance, whether drawn from my mother or from me. Then my father didn't have to choose between whom the night's victim would be, so it was always my blood that stained my shirt or my sheets.

When I transferred, I both lost and drew blood during the time I learned how to fight. It didn't bother me much eventually. Until, I got an idea of just how much blood was stored in the human body; Abnegation members shot dead on their front lawns, Erudite guards and innocents slung across the stairs. There will always be too much of it spilt.

The color is so rich and a strange mixture of reds that will soon be browns. Why is there so much of it? When does it ever stop?

I squeeze my eyes shut to force out the other unimportant shocks. As soon as they open, I remember where I am, and why I am dwelling on the thought of blood.

It is hers.

The analytical side of me—the survivalist side—takes control. My brain rushes to catch up with my thoughts as I compartmentalize my emotions. Right now, if I want her to live, then I need to focus.

First, I locate the wound, where her hands are hovering. It is in her lower right of her abdomen, just above her pelvis. The angle at which she was shot is unconventional, I realize. Her stomach must have been grazed because the bullet didn't go straight in. With trembling hands, I turn her over to see the exit wound in her waist.

I am not positive about the placement of organs, but I think the bullet's path must have missed anything major. For now, I assume that she isn't in any immediate danger except for blood loss. And there is a lot of that.

Sliding the jacket from my shoulders, I loop the sleeves around her middle and tie them as tightly as possible. She cries out and tries to weakly push me away in between gasps for air.

Next, I quickly assess her state. If anything, she seems out of breath, like it was knocked out of her. Maybe she is too shocked to even feel the pain. I come to the conclusion that there is nothing I can do for her right now except get her out of here.

"We have to go," I say in a rush.

Unthinkingly, I haul her onto her feet, and she lets out another agonized cry. I sling her arm over my shoulder and support her on her good side.

"Tris, you have to put pressure on it," I demand as we make our way to the back stairs. It works for a moment to place her hand on the wound, but ultimately she can't hold her arm there and lets it hang again.

Thankfully, nobody is on the staircase this time. I keep my gun trained downward anyway because in a building stormed by factionless, we can never be too safe.

"Tris," I urge helplessly when I see her eyelids drooping. "Try to stay awake."

Still keeping her upright, I shove the back door of the Merciless Mart open. A gust of icy wind smacks me in the face and cuts at my now bare arms, and I cringe away from sting. The snow has really packed up in the last day, but I am able to make out several cars lined up in a lot not far away.