Don't Confuse Your Grief With

When Her Body First Hit The Net, All I Registered Was A Gray Blur. I Pulled Her Across It And Her Hand Was Small, But Warm, And Then She Stood Before Me, Short And Thin And Plain And In All Ways Unremarkable- Except That She Had Jumped First. The Stiff Had Jumped First. Even I Didn't Jump First. Her Eyes Were So Stern, So Insistent. Beautiful.

I Hold The Gun Out From My Body, My Arms Straight, Just As Four Taught Me, When That Was His Only Name. I Used A Gun Like This To Defend My Father And Brother From Simulation-bound Dauntless. I Used It To Stop Eric From Shooting Tobias In The Head. It Is Not Inherently Evil. It Is Just A Tool.

But Now I’m Wondering If I Need It Anymore, If We Ever Really Need These Words, “dauntless,” “erudite,” “divergent,” “allegiant,” Or If We Can Just Be Friends Or Lovers Or Siblings, Defined Instead By The Choices We Make And The Love And Loyalty That Binds Us.

Maybe Time Would Not Feel As Heavy If I Didn't Have This Guilt -- The Guilt Of Knowing The Truth And Stuffing It Down Where No One Can See It, Not Even Tobias. Maybe I Should Not Be So Afraid Of Saying Anything, Because Honesty Will Make Me Feel Lighter.

Eric Called Al's Suicide Brave, And He Was Wrong. My Mother's Death Was Brave. I Remember How Calm She Was, How Determined. It Isn't Just Brave That She Died For Me; It Is Brave That She Did It Without Announcing It, Without Hesitation, And Without Appearing To Consider Another Option.