The Gun Goes Off. I Fall.

He Smiles In My Memory. A Curled Lip. Straight Teeth. Light In His Eyes. Laughing, Teasing, More Alive In Memory Than I M In Reality. It Was Him Or Me. I Chose Me. But I Feel Dead Too.

What Do I Believe? I Do Not Know; I Do Not Know; I Do Not Know.

I Have Done Bad Things. I Can't Take Them Back, And They Are Part Of Who I Am. Most Of The Time, They Seem Like The Only Thing I Am.

So Now We All Know," Says Four, Quietly, "that You Are Afraid Of A Short, Skinny Girl From Abnegation." His Mouth Curls Into A Smile.

I Do Like To Hit People-i Like The Explosion Of Power And Energy, And The Feeling That I Am Untouchable Because I Can Hurt People. But I Hate That Part Of Myself, Because It Is The Part Of Me That Is The Most Broken