Sometimes All I Want Is To Be

We Both Have War Inside Us. Sometimes It Keeps Us Alive. Sometimes It Threatens To Destroy Us.

He Pulls Me Over The Railing And Against His Chest, Gathering Me Into His Arms, Easing An Arm Under My Knees. I Press My Face Into His Shoulder, And There Is A Sudden, Hollow Silence.

He Doesn’t Scowl, But His Mouth Is So Tense That I Know He’s Angry With Me. 'don’t Be An Idiot,' He Says. 'an Idiot?' Is He Talking About The Blanket? 'you Were Lying.

I Have Discovered That Sitting Still Leaves Little Spaces For The Grief To Get In, So I Stay Busy.

I Frown At Him. How Does He Know All This Information? And Why, After Two Years Of Avoiding Becoming A Dauntless Leader At All Costs, Is He Suddenly Acting Like One?