Politeness Is Deception In Pretty Packaging.

How Is It I Know This Little About The Boy Who Says He Loves Me-

But That Wasn´t The First Time I Ever Saw Her. I Saw Her In The Hallways At School, And At My Mother’s False Funeral, And Walking The Sidewalks In The Abnegation Sector. I Saw Her, But I Didn’t See Her; No One Saw Her The Way She Truly Was Until She Jumped. I Suppose A Fire That Burns That Bright Is Not Meant To Last.

I Think They're Going To Force Us To Eat Lots Of Cake And Then Take An Unreasonably Long Nap.

Insurgent, He Says. Noun. A Person Who Acts In Opposition To The Established Authority, Who Is Not Necessarily Regarded As A Belligerent.

You Think My First Instinct Is To Protect You. Because You're Small, Or A Girl, Or A Stiff. But You're Wrong." He Leans His Face Close To Mine And Wraps His Fingers Around My Chin. His Hand Smells Like Metal. When Was The Last Time He Held A Gun, Or A Knife? My Skin Tingles At The Point Of Contact, Like He's Transmitting Electricity Through His Skin. "my First Instinct Is To Push You Until You Break, Just To See How Hard I Have To Press." He Says, His Fingers Squeezing At The Word Break. My Body Tenses At The Edge In His Voice, So I Am Coiled As Tight As A Spring, And I Forget To Breathe.