Pyre

Chapter 9

TRIS POV

Using pain to cope with pain is a strange concept.

Tobias, in some ways, was a masochist. Whenever he was in a tough spot, he would turn to his fear landscape, shifting his negative emotions to something more personal. Or he would drink, so that a splitting headache would distract from his unresolved past.

And as darts of pain shock through my fists with each punch to the bag in front of me, I think I understand it now.

Maybe I did before anyway. Maybe I subconsciously chose the path of hurting myself to redirect the ache when my parents died. I wasn't really thinking when I took a blade to my wrist either after the first war.

I think society's view is that there are certain acceptable ways to handle grief, while others are not plausible or excusable. I do agree in some circumstances. But all I know is that I don't realize the choices I make half the time under the influence of this pain, and they shouldn't get to decide.

I suppose I should not have been so quick to judge when Tobias resorted to a syringe full of nightmares.

There is a stinging sensation in my side, and I decide to slow down this time, lower the force I am using. Another mishap with this wound could put me back in the infirmary, the last thing I need right now.

But it doesn't stop me. I continue on with the guards watching me in between surveys of the training room, until my arms are too weak to raise up to the correct height. Only then do I lower myself to the ground for a break.

Uriah walks in as soon as I have caught my breath. "Peter is downstairs," he tells me.

He holds his hand out to help me up, and I take it before sliding my jacket on, the cold air freezing the sweat on my skin. "Thanks for taking care of that," I say. "I know you don't like him any more than I do."

"It's my job."

We walk out of the training room, guards flanking us. A yawn forces its way out of my mouth, and I think that is when Uriah notices that I am dragging my feet with each step.

"Did you not sleep well?" he asks, concerned.

"I never do anymore."

There were shadows in every corner of the apartment last night. As I tried to rest my eyes on the couch, they would pop back open, searching for the dark places that vividly resembled the tall shape of Tobias.

And I am so tired, in more ways than one.

Uriah is silent for a few seconds before he replies, "You don't have to lose sleep over any of this. We will figure out a plan to strike back harder at Evelyn, and—"

"I'm not worried about it," I sigh. "You should have seen her personal guards that she brought to our meeting. We really don't have much to worry about."

Although he goes almost everywhere that I do, I ordered him to stay behind this time in case something happened to me. I don't know if I trust anyone more than him to take my place. Still, I wish that he would have been there with me.

At the beginning of the hostile meeting, I was calm and collected, prepared to control my wrathful words and to only speak when necessary. But then I saw someone in the back of her group that stood high and proud, like Tobias. It all went downhill from there, when I was unable to hold back all of the crisscrossing emotions at the vague reminder of him.

Tori chastised me for my loose lips. I regretted it for the last two days. And it probably would not have happened at all if Uriah was there to steady me.