And Then The Screaming Begins.

He Gives Me A Conflicted Look And Touches His Lips To My Forehead, Right Between My Eyebrows. I Close My Eyes. I Don't Understand This, Whatever It Is. But I Don't Want To Ruin It, So I Say Nothing. He Doesn't Move; He Just Stays There With His Mouth Pressed To My Skin, And I Stay There With My Hands On His Waist, For A Long Time.

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.

Abnegation Produces Deeply Serious People. People Who Automatically See Things Like Need,” He Says. “i’ve Noticed That When People Switch To Dauntless, It Creates Some Of The Same Types. Erudite Who Switch To Dauntless Tend To Turn Cruel And Brutal. Candor Who Switch To Dauntless Tend To Become Boisterous, Fight-picking Adrenaline Junkies. And Abnegation Who Switch To Dauntless Become . . . I Don’t Know, Soldiers, I Guess. Revolutionaries.

Tris.” I Keep Staring. “tris.” I Finally Look At Him. “i Just Don’t Want To Lose You.

I Feel Like What I Have Become Is Halfway Between My Mother And My Father, Violent And Impulsive And Desperate And Afraid. I Feel Like I Have Lost Control Of What I Have Become.