Pit

Chapter 19

TRIS POV

I used to be afraid of drowning.

Not in an enclosed tank in which others were able to see and taunt me. Instead it was a vast ocean where the waves would collapse on top of me repeatedly, burying me in a boundless amount of water.

There were two ways to face that fear: either pull myself up on a slippery rock that sliced my hands, or surrender to the violent body of water. My survival instincts made me choose the former, but now I can't find it in myself to understand.

Every breath in feels laborious. It is similar to sucking in and choking on that water, except now there are no brief moments of untainted air or a rock to cling to. It is physically painful to be alive.

Why do I keep resurfacing, why do I even bother? Why do I not sink to the bottom and let nature take its course?

I am drowning in a vast ocean, and this time, I have no reason to struggle against it.

xXxXx

Fire. That is how they told me he died.

A muffled voice—Zeke, maybe—stood above me some time ago and explained it. I only caught a word here and there with my senses and mental capacity dulled, but it was enough.

The factionless derailed the train before they even arrived, likely to retaliate against the Dauntless. Somehow there was an explosion as well. He was knocked unconscious until the fire caught ahold of him, and despite Zeke's efforts, he was mutilated by the flames.

In my dreaming and wakeful hours—which are blurred together and unrecognizable in between the misery—I see the fire. His screams echo in my ears as my body tricks itself during rest. The flames flicker against the wall that I have not yet torn my eyes away from since I was coherent enough to realize my surroundings.

The agony is too heavy to comprehend. It manifests itself physically, and thinking about each source is a momentary distraction from the real weight. My lungs ache under the burden of inhaling and exhaling. My eyes are swollen and sting each time I blink. My left side is in more pain than my right now, after remaining in the same position for however long it has been.

I am without the only thing I had keeping me precariously pieced together, and I am wasting away.

I was resilient because he was nearly impenetrable. I was undaunted because he pushed me to be. I was only able to climb onto the winding road to recovery because life had significance in him.

Tobias—

No.

The sound of his name, if only in my mind, causes nothing but air to lodge in my throat. I cannot bear to think of his name because it brings on thoughts of how his arms wrapped around me could shield me from the outside world, how his rare smile could drag me out of any dismal abyss. Stolen kisses evade my mind as if I have already forgotten him, and I tell myself to commit everything I can about him to memory since he will not be here to remind me anymore.

Now that I have invited in the recollections, they are irrepressible. I am too numb to cry, but I would try to force out that accumulating emotion if I had it in me. Because pondering all of the things I will never experience again or experience period makes my chest feel like it is going to burst with angst.

I will never hear his low voice ever again. I will never hug him around the waist again, and he will never tuck me into him with his chin resting on my head. I will never see his tattoo again, peeking out of the top of his shirt in the back and reminding me of the virtues that he strived to live by. I will never see him clench his jaw when he is frustrated or brooding when he is actually calm or any of his mannerisms that I love.