Protection

Chapter 20

TRIS POV

The waiting room is starting to irritate me.

I watch the same doctors pass me. I stare at the same ceiling tiles and patterns in the carpet. I listen to the same people blab about God knows what.

Nothing new happens. Nothing can distract me from the living hell I am facing.

There has been no news since we arrived at the emergency room. The only information I have is that Tobias needs a liver before time runs out. Of course, I volunteered immediately to give up half of my liver for him, but the doctors informed me that we don't have the same blood type. That was hours ago.

So now we wait: I for some news regarding his health, and he for a liver transplant.

My heart rate has permanently risen by this point and stays high above average as I struggle to not think about how pale Tobias was in the ambulance and how much blood there was as he gradually slipped away. That cannot be the last time I see him, definitely not in that state.

"Beatrice?"

I snap out of my trance to see Caleb standing in front of me with his hands on my shoulders, looking worried.

"You don't look okay. How long have you been pacing?" he asks.

I shrug, unsure about anything anymore.

"Why don't you go freshen up a little in the bathroom, huh? Wash that blood off?" This is the brother I miss, the one who looks out for me and takes care of me when I am not strong enough. Unfortunately, he is never around anymore.

I hold up my hands to see them stained red, and the sight makes them start shaking again. I am dizzy and sick to my stomach and a hundred other things on top of that, but all I want to take care of right now is my hands.

So I nod and shuffle over to the bathroom, past all the people who look all fine and dandy. How are they not distraught like me? Don't they know what's happening?!

By the time I make it to the bathroom, I am seething. I am angry at everything: at Eric, at Dauntless, at all the happy people in the hallways, at myself, at the world. I flip on the faucet and pump out a ton of soap so that it practically covers my hands to hide the blood. More bubbles appear as I scrub at my hands, and I watch the pink water drain.

But even when all the soap is washed off, there is still a crimson color staining my palms, imbedded in the creases.

I use more soap, rub harder, make the water hotter. I have to get the blood off. I don't want it there. When I look at it, all I can see is Tobias's cloudy eyes, and it makes me even more determined and livid.

And then I break.

A sob leaves me, causing me to bend forward, and I barely catch myself on the sink. I manage to turn off the tap as I cry into the mixed bubbles and water from above. Surprisingly, I have a strong grip on the sink despite my hands being slippery, and it keeps me grounded.

By the time I am finished with my fit, broken blood vessels are added to my already repulsive face. I take in my wrecked state in the mirror, from my messy hair to my hands that are now maroon from the heat of the water. The clothes I am currently wearing are soiled with blood. Tobias's blood. Just when I thought I got rid of it all...

I stop caring about all the blood. It is everywhere, after all, so I abandon the effort of cleaning it out from under my nails. After looking down to see my bare feet—I didn't have time to put on shoes on the way out—I glance back up in the mirror to be met with the sight of the raven necklace around my neck.