Red

27

VAN'S POV

"I don't want you to feel nervous when I tell you," I close my eyes and push my hair back. "You know I'm never gonna let anything happen to you, right?" I ask Tris, opening my eyes again and looking at her. My previous, stern eyes, which I knew she hated, now soft and full of worry.

"I know," she whispers. I could tell she was anxious to know what happened, but she also felt scared. I could see in her eyes, the uncertainty.

"Good," I breathe out. I grab her hand, although it was more for my own comfort than for hers. I finally bring myself to start explaining. "Last night, Mike, that guy who came to our plane a day ago, he came back," I begin.

I pause and shake his head, pursing my lips. Mike pissed me off, just thinking about him made me feel sick. I don't understand how someone could be so inhumane. "God, Tris, I don't know what was goin on in his mind. I wish I could tell you, but I just don't know... He came inside the plane, him and a few of his people, and they took our girls," I say. There were only a few other girls here beside Tris. There was Daisy, of course, and maybe five more. Benji was absolutely devastated when he found out what had happened to Daisy this morning. They had something going on.

Tris looks down. "How did... how did you know it was them?" She asks me quietly. I can tell she felt uncomfortable by the way she shifted around. I try my best to relax her by rubbing the palms of her hands.

"Someone else saw it happen and told me this morning," I tell her, leaving out the part about how that person was Sam. And how Mike threatening to kill him if he told anyone.

"W-why the girls?" Tris stutters, her voice cracks, trying to sound strong, and I know she would be crying in a matter of seconds. She knew the answer to her question, I could tell.

"Come on, now," I say. "You know why." Tris may still be a teenager, but she wasn't stupid. I couldn't bring myself to talk to her about the horrific things men can do to women.

I adjust myself so I'm sitting next to her rather than across from her. She shies away from me. "Hey, Tris," I say while wrapping my arm around her waist, hoping she would lean in to me, but she refuses. I can't be upset with her for that, though. She must not know what to think right now.

"S-so, they... raped them?" Her small voice asks so quietly that I could barely hear.

I hesitate. "I-" I wasn't sure where I was going with my thought, but Tris cuts me off anyway.

"You can say it," She says, her voice suddenly bitter sounding. Her hair was covering the side of her face so I couldn't see her too well, but she brings her hand up to her face, making believe she was crying. "It already happened. It's too late for me to do anything about it now anyway." she shrugs her shoulders and sniffles.

I sigh. "Darlin, some things like that are just beyond your control. I don't want you thinking you could have stopped it somehow," I tell her. She shouldn't feel any guilt for what happened. The only one who should feel guilty are Mike and his friends.

We sit there in silence as Tris doesn't reply to what I said. I don't make her, though. She's too vulnerable right now, and I understand that.

"I don't want to be here," she finally speaks up.

I nod my head. "Alright. How about we go outside. We can sit out with Bondy, Alex... and Sam," I say. I paused before adding Sam. He was a good guy, but I couldn't let him and Tris get too close. I couldn't feel comfortable not know what Tris was up to, if she was safe or not. I know I can't keep her away from him forever, though.

"No," she says. "That's not what I meant, Van." Her voice was sour again. Any other time, I wouldn't allow it, but I'm letting it slide because she was having a hard time. She was scared and upset. I wish I knew a better way to make her feel better, or a way to relieve whatever guilt she had about the situation, the guilt which she unnecessarily carried.

"What do you mean, love?" I ask her, keeping my voice calm in hopes of making her feel more relaxed.

She turns to me. "I mean, when are we getting off this island? I don't like it here," she explains. Her eyes are looking in mine, desperate for an answer, an answer that I just can't give.

"I'm not sure," I tell her truthfully. "Hopefully soon." I didn't have the heart to tell her that I didn't think we'd ever get off this island. It's already been about a week. Hunts for crashed planes never last more than a week or so, it's just to expensive to search for such a long time. Especially considering that they'll expect most people to be dead. She shakes her head, clearly unsatisfied with my minimalistic answer.

"Van?" She says my name, her tone changing from a frustrated one to a soft one. Her eyes are now focused down at her hands which she was playing with.

"Hm?" I hum. "What is it, love?"

"I-" she stops and squints, trying to keep herself from crying. I pat her back, trying to encourage her, to let her know that it's okay, that she can talk to me. I see her swallow before continuing.

"I'm scared," she admits.