It reminds me that no embrace will ever feel the same again, because no one will ever be like her again, because she's gone. She's gone, and crying feels so useless, so stupid, but it's all I can do.
It happened. It was awful. You aren't perfect. That's all there is. Don't confuse your grief with guilt.
If you see someone in trouble, you should help them. Experiment or not.
Or maybe we'll make a home somewhere inside ourselves, to carry with us wherever we go- which is the way I carry my mother now.
You're not very nice," I say, grinning. "You're one to talk." "Hey, I could be nice if I tried." "Hmm." He taps his chin. "Say something nice, then." "You're very good-looking." He smiles, his teeth a flash in this dark. "I like this 'nice' thing.
I glance at Tris. She grins at me, then leans in to whisper something to Christina. "Are you here to help or what, Stiff?" I say.
I belong to the people I love, and they belong to me--they, and the love and loyaty I give them, form my identity far more than any word or group ever could.
I don't need to relive my fears anymore. All I need to do now is try to overcome them.
That night we push our cots just a little closer together, and look into each other's eyes in the moments before we fall asleep. When he finally drifts off, our fingers are twisted together in the space between the beds. I smile a little, and let mys...
I touch her cheek to slow the kiss down, holding her mouth on mine so I can feel every place where our lips touch and every place where they pull away. I savor the air we share in the second afterwards and the slip of her nose across mine. I think of...
But there's so much that was a lie, it's hard to figure out what was true, what was real, what matters.
Yeah, sometimes life really sucks," she says. "But you know what I'm holding on for?" I raise my eyebrows. She raises hers, too, mimicking me. "The moments that don't suck," she says. "The trick is to notice them when they come around.
I love you" I say. "I love you, too" he says. "I'll see you soon.
I think you're still the only person sharp enough to sharpen someone like me.
We are not people who touch each other carelessly; every point of contact between us feels important, a rush of energy and relief.
I feel like myself, strong and weak at once - allowed, at least for a little while, to be both.
You know, there's a word for big, strong men who attack women, and it's coward.
She must love me, to worry about me. She must still be capable of love.
