Truth (a Divergent Fanfic)

Chapter Fifteen

Hey guys, I'm feeling really ill so this isn't edited or even read through and it's probably not very good.

And it's short, incredibly so, because in the next chapter, every thing will change

And even I'm not ready for it yet

And I'm the frikking AUTHOR

Love ya,

Rae x

*****

“You learned to run from what you feel, and that's why you have nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control.” ~ Megan Chance, The Spiritualist

*****

My head is muddled and my heart even more so  - as I run the endless labyrinth of corridors that all appear to be the same, my soul is trying to escape a similar maze, only this one exists only inside my head. Hopelessly pointless trying to navigate as tears throw themselves down my cheeks, just as I would really love to throw myself off a cliff right now.

One corridor looks exactly like the next and the next and the next – I find myself anxiously wondering whether or not I’m running in circles but I can’t tell because my eyesight is blurred with the teardrops of the hopelessly lost. When I lose my breath, I sink down against the wall, panting, because my breath, like my friendship with Tobias, is something that will not be regained so easily.

My back hits again and again against the hard sharp walls of the Dauntless corridor as I start choking, positively convulsing with tears. How. I ask myself. Why. More tears come, staining my eyes an irritated read and starting to soak the neck of my blouse. How the hell could you just forget one of the most important people in your life? Was I not special? Was I not good enough to him to remember?

Out loud, asking, questioning and testing myself, my throat forces out the tearstained words: “Do I matter? Am I even important to anyone?” And in reply, full of remorse and self-hate, I slowly shake my head.

But there’s a voice.

And it doesn’t agree.

“Well I beg to differ, sweetheart. You matter to me.”

I raise my head, slowly, craning my neck to find the source of the words. The speaker steps out of the shadows.

“In fact, you stole my heart.”

I can see them now, but they’re not content with simply being seen. The speaker moves closer. Close enough to whisper huskily, lustily, in my ear, “And now, at last, I’m going to show you just how much you matter to me. And I’m going to steal yours.”

And the only thing I can hear is my heart beat, the organ slamming against my ribcage almost painfully, filled with the same emotions.

But it’s not love, not lust, not longing that is pumping the blood around my body faster as they slowly stand over me.

It’s fear.