Divergent: Before We Chose

Page Fifteen

The following day is cold and I huddle into my robes, both to protect myself from the wind and to hide my face. I am going to meet Tobias as we planned last night, but no one can know it is me, meeting him. No one can know our plan. 

After that moment in my room last night, Tobias had to go back downstairs so as not to arouse suspicion. He'd made plans with me to meet today because he had 'updates' for me to do with our supposed rebellion against Abnegation. I hadn't known it would be a loud, physical sort of rebellion when I first agreed on it; I'd imagined a sort of internal desire to burn their old ways. I don't refuse to take part now though. Tobias has a strange hold on me.

Now as I wander through the derelict streets I recall that he never actually explained what he had said at the dinner table last night. He had never stated who that girl was that he met; nor had he explained that he had noticed I'd left because of that comment. I recalled that fact late last night as I lay in bed, feeling the tingling feeling on my lips that still hummed. My stomach had sank at the realisation. 

Then I had another thought - what if he had just kissed me to get his way? Maybe he was seducing me in order to get me to play along, to be a pawn in his rebellion. Maybe I was his sacrifice for the greater good.

Those thoughts are the main reason I can feel my heart thumping in my chest with every heartbeat and why I feel and angry flush rise to my cheeks. I pretend the cold is the result of the blotches on my cheeks, but I know I feel angry and used. The scowl that lines my face could be passed as an excuse to make myself look less vulnerable out here on my own, but I know that's not the reason for it. I am livid with Tobias Eaton for using me.

But why am I still meeting him?

I hear something echo off in the distance to my right, the sound of something crashing. It sounds like something metal thrashing to the concrete floor, the noise rising up the high alley walls between the run down buildings. I am in a dangerous part of town, a place where the factionless roam free, a place where anyone could take anything from you, especially a teenage girl.

I quicken my pace.

Suddenly there's a shout from the same alleyway and I can make out two figures, small, huddled, unshaven, fighting next to a garbage can. I try not to look in their direction, but aggression has always fascinated me in the strangest way. The factionless men swing punches at one another and one cries out, falling to the floor. Liquid spews from his face, and I know it is blood.

Without thinking I run towards them, leaping over stones and rubble, trying to keep my balance and keep my breath going evenly. I'm not the most active person and often get stitches in my side from running, but that's the least of my worries now.

I am so near now I can see one of their faces. The man who is upright is kicking the man on the floor, beating him to the point of unconsciousness. I gasp because I've never seen such violence, and then gasp again when he kicks his head. "Stop!" I cry, and before I realise what I have done, the man swivels his head towards me.

His eyes locked mine, and we are so close now I can see they are glazed. I cannot smell him from here, but he is intoxicated. He may not have food as a factionless man, but he has access to alcohol and a strong addiction, anyone can see that. An addiction, and malice in his eye.

I come up short, gasping for breath, as the man slowly begins walking towards me. "Get back!" I cry, but I know it's too late. I look too weak, too flushed. I'm already out of breath. This man is fuelled by anger and alcohol, and I am no match. He can see the grey robes; they cry out the word weak like a beacon. I turn and run.

Now I am clumsy, overwhelmed by a strange sort of panic that numbs me, saying only one thing in my ear: Run.

The man is gaining on me now; I can hear his stale, coarse breaths coming from him in huffs. "Come here, little Abnegation girl!" he calls out in a sickly seductive fashion. "I only need your help. You wouldn't want to be selfish now, keeping your little self away from a poor, helpless man like me, now, would you?"

I shiver, and not in a good way. Not in the way I did last night when Tobias held me.

Suddenly, distracted, I fall forward, slamming my knee hard off a jutted piece of rubble. The man is there suddenly, behind me, above me, his breath raspy and fast. "Gotcha," he smiles, and I scramble backward, trying to kick out at him, but I'm weak.

He grabs my arms roughly, trying to haul me upright. I don't scream; I simply fight back the best I can, sinking my teeth into his grimy hands around my arms. He roars out, but I've only angered him more than weakened him. I want to kick myself.

I shouldn't have come out here alone. I should never have agreed to walk to the factionless areas. I've heard stories of reckless girls coming here and never going home. I am one of those girls now. What will my parents say? What will Abnegation say? What will Jeanine Matthews accuse me of, when I'm dead and gone?

Suddenly the man cries out and I watch as a rock, sharp and quick, slices him above his right eye. Blood appears and he lets go of me suddenly, causing me to fall back harshly onto the ground. Another rock hits the man and he grabs his face with his hands, roaring in pain rather than anger now. The rocks are coming from behind me, fast and well-aimed, and all I can do is sit there in awe until the man blacks out, either from pain, blood loss or drunkenness.

I can't move I am so shocked. I know I should run, but I feel damaged, paralyzed almost.

"Tris," someone says breathlessly, running up behind me. They scurry across the rocks in front of me, and crouch low, looking into my eyes. The familiar blue snap me out of my reverie. "Are you alright?"

"Tobias?" my voice doesn't sound as weak as I feel, yet is croaky and dazed somehow.

"I'm here," he says, placing his hands on my cheeks. He wipes something from them, and I suddenly feel cold tears. I hadn't known I'd cried. I wasn't much of a crier. "Tell me you're alright?"

"I'm fine," I say shakily, but I don't feel fine. All I can see is that man's face, his taunting jeers about Abnegation, about my 'little self'. I feel anger, and not at myself, but at my faction for painting me as a target. I lean into Tobias and he holds me for a while until both our breaths even out and we can talk again. As angry as I was earlier about him kissing me, being in his prescence makes me feel safe again.

"I'm sorry," he says into my ear, quietly. "I should've picked a better place to meet."

"Yeah," I say quietly. "You should."

I'm not joking, but he laughs softly, pulling back. Suddenly I can't help myself and I ease forward, placing my lips on his. He seems startled for a moment and does not move to kiss me back. That's when I know my suspicions as true.

When I finally pull back, his eyes seem deeper, his voice graver. "We need to talk about that," is all he says, and my heart sinks to lie beside the unconscious factionless man, blood-stained.