Flower Child

Chapter Twenty Eight

   I shouldn't be out here, alone, no one around to hear if I'm in trouble. Dauntless is asleep, the chasm is the only thing that fights away the silence. If someone were to come along and throw me in, I doubt Four would be there to save me again, would I even want him too this time?
   I sit here, my legs over the edge, and I wonder what went trough Al's mind as he stood here, on the other side of the rail. Did he think of his family, of his friends? Did he picture trying to throw me off this very spot. Did his guilt drive him forward? It's morbid to think about but I can't really help it.
   I see movement in the corner of my eye. A figure is climbing towards the glass ceiling, something about the way he walks tells me that it's Four.
   What is he doing? I push myself to my feet and jog over to the path. I climb, me footfalls are completely silent.
   He disappears above the ceiling and I follow him, stepping on the places of the stairs that don't creak.
   He's on the the opposite side of the room, next to the fear landscape room. He holds a black box in one hand and in the other, a syringe.
   He doesn't look at me, "would you like to join me?"
   I don't ask how he knew I was following him, "into your fear landscape?"
   He nods.
   I walk towards him, "you can do that?"
   "The serum just connects you to the program," he says, "it determines the landscape. Right now, it's set to mine."
   "And you'd let me see that," I ask, "see your deepest fears?"
   "Why else do you think I'm going in," he asks, his voice low as he looks at me, "I want to show you something."
   He holds up the syringe and I tilt my head to the side. I wince as the needle goes in, I should be used to it by now but it still hurts.
   He then holds out the black box to me, it has another syringe in it. I take it but I don't move to inject it.
   "I don't know how to do this," I say, "I could hurt you."
   He lifts his hand and touches the spot, "right here."
   I lift my free hand to his neck, I gently hold him while I push the needle into his neck. He doesn't flinch at all.
   He watches me the whole time, his eyes intense. When I pull it back he takes the syringe from me and puts it back in the box, setting next to the door. He lifts his hand to mine that still rests on the side of his neck. Our fingers entwine and he leads me through the door.
   The door shuts behind us and seals off any light. I press closer to him, as if to make sure he's still there.
   "See if you can figure out why they call me Four," he says.
   "What's your real name," I ask.
   "See if you can figure that out too," he whispers.
   The sim unravels around us and I no longer stand on firm concrete but on rickety metal. We are in the city, glass buildings and arcs of train tracks telling me as such. We're high above them.
   Wind pushes against me, pushes me into Four's side. His grip on my hand is tight, almost painful, and his breathing is rapid. He's terrified. I pry my hand from his and wrap my arms around his waist to steady him. He wraps his arms around me. I don't mind the height, it's beautiful to me, but it's one of his biggest fears.
   "We have to jump," I shout over the roaring wind.
   He nods stiffly.
   I pull away from him so we can, "on three, ok?"
   "One... two..."
   I don't give him three because it gives him a chance to back out. I pull him with me and we run towards the edge. We plumit off the edge and the ground grows closer and closer. Then the scene changes and I'm on my hands and knees on the floor. I'm grinning from ear to ear, adrenaline pumping through my veins.
   Four isn't as excited as I am, he's gasping, pressing his hand to his chest.
   "What's next?" I stand up.
   "It's-"
   Something hits my back and I'm thrown into Four. My head hits his chest as more walls close around us. It's so tight that he has to cross his arms to fit. A ceiling slams over us and we have duck down. It's large enough for him in here and that's it. Me being in here only makes the space smaller.
   "Confinement," I say.
   He makes a low noise and I tilt my head to look at him. I can hardly see him but his face is contorted like he's in pain. We're so close that we share breaths.
   "Hey," I whisper, "it's okay, here..."
   I take his arms and wrap them around me so he has more space. He holds me like a lifeline, his face next to mine. His entire body is tense.
   "We can't break out of here," I say.
   He hums.
   "So we have to face it," I continue, "we have to make the space smaller. Make it worse."
   "Yes," he says but I can hear the dread in his voice.
   "Okay, we need to get lower," I say.
   I crouch down and pull him down with me. The ceiling screaches as it inches down over us. It needs to be smaller. I press my body against his and sit down on his lap. The walls push in more.
   He groans, "this is worse. This is a lot worse."
   "Shh," I say, "put your arms around me."
   He does. Sliding his arms around my waist and pulling me closer to him. I might be enjoying this a little to much. I can feel his heart hammering against my back.
   "You need to calm down," I whisper, "steady your heart and calm your breathing."
   "It's that easy, huh," Four rasps, his breath next to my ear.
   "It's not," I say, "I know that, but the more you panic, the longer we'll be here."
   "I'm trying," he snaps, his fear translating into anger.
   "Okay." I grab his hand and guide it over my heart. "Can you feel my heartbeat?"
   "Yes."
   "Can feel how steady it is?"
   "It's fast."
   "Well," I say, my face heating up, "that has nothing to do with the box."
   I don't let him think long about what I just said, what it means, "breathe when I do, okay?"
   "Okay."
   Our chests rise and fall together. Deep long breaths.
   "Where does this fear come from," I ask, "maybe talking about it will help."
   He breathes with me, "this one stems from a fantastic childhood punishment. The small closet upstairs."
   That was his punishment? Mine was the peace room. It's hard to imagine being forced to sit in a tiny closet.
   "Why-"
   "I don't really want to talk about that," he cuts me off.
   I sigh, "fine, then ask me something. I'll talk."
   He lets out a shakey laugh, "fine. Why is your heart racing?"
   My face grows warm and I let my head fall back against his shoulder, "um- I hardly know you and I'm pressed up against you in a tiny box in your fear landscape."
   "Another question," he says, "am I in your fear landscape?"
   "I'm not afraid of you."
   "You know that's not what I mean," he laughs.
   As he does, the box breaks open and we are left in a small circle of light. His arms fall away from me and I push myself off him. My back feels cold without him there.
   He stands up and he's grinning at me. I want to hide for some reason.
   "You're a terrible liar," he says, "maybe you could've been Candor."
   "Yeah well my aptitude test agrees with you," I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
"The aptitude test doesn't tell you everything," he shakes his head.
"What are you trying to say." I narrow my eyes at him. "Your test isn't the reason you ended up in Dauntless?"
Is he Divergent like me?
"Not exactly," he answers, "I..."
He glances over his shoulder and his voice trails off. A woman is there, pointing a gun at us. She doesn't move, her features are remarkably plain. A table appears to my right, on top of it is a gun and a single bullet.
She holds the gun at us but she doesn't move to threaten us. This fear isn't about her shooting him, it's about him shooting her.
"You have to shoot her," I state.
"Yes," he says, his face showing his unease.
"She isn't real," I tell him.
"I know," he says, biting his lip, "but she looks real. It feels real."
"I can do it if-"
"No... I can do it, I always do," he says, "it's not as bad as the others. Not as much panic involved."
Not as much panicking, but I can see the dread on his face as he lifts up the gun and loads it. He lifts the gun out in front of him with both hands, aiming it at her head. He squeezes one eye shut and inhales.
He exhales the bullet. Her head whips back and I see a flash of red. I turn my head away as she crumbles to the floor.
Four drops the gun and we stare at her body. He's right, it feels real. I grab his hand and squeeze it reassuringly.
"Come on," I whisper, "let's keep moving."
I tug on his arm and he snaps out of his daze. We walk past her body and she disappears, not from our minds though. One of my fears is to be forced to hurt my family, will I have to shoot them over and over again, will I be able to?
We stop and Four grips my hand tightly, "here we go."
Ahead of us, a dark figure moves through the shadows on the edge of the circle of light. Who is it?
The man steps forward. He is tall and slim, his hair cut close to his head. He wears Abnegation clothes.
"Marcus Eaton," I whisper.
The last time I saw him was at my choosing ceremony.
"Here's the part," Four gulps, "where you find out my real name."
I look between Marcus and Four. Marcus had a son who had defected to Dauntless two years ago.
"Tobias."
Marcus's hand comes out from behind his back. In it, is a belt that he unwinds from his fingers slowly.
"This is for your own good," Marcus says, his voice echoing around us.
Marcus's surround the circle of light. They all hold the same belt, wear the same expression. When they blink, their eyes turn to black pits in their skulls. The belts slither along the white tiled floor. Erudite has accused Marcus of being cruel to his son, for once they were right.
Next to me, Four- Tobias, is frozen in place. His eyes are wide and afraid, something I've never seen before, and never want to see again. The first Marcus yanks his arm back and lifts the belt over his head. Tobias shrinks back and holds his arms above him to protect himself.
"No!"
I dart in front of Tobias and the belt stings my upraised wrist, wrapping around it. I rip the belt from Marcus's hand and raise it above me, striking him across the face with his own weapon. He yells, lunging at me with his clawed hands outstretched. Tobias pushes me behind him so he's in between me and his father. His face in deadly, no longer scared, but livid.
The Marcus's disappear. We're back in the fear landscape room. Four, he only has four fears.
I turn to look at him, "that's why they call you-"
My words are caught in my throat when I see him. His eyes are wide and vulnerable. He stares at me, the look is almost like awe, but I don't understand why.
He suddenly pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. He presses his lips against my cheek, which is way to warm. He buries his face in my neck and seems to breathe me in.
I wrap my arms around his waist, "hey, we got through it."
He lifts his head and looks into my eyes. A strand of my hair is in my face and he gently tucks it behind my ear, resting his hand on my jaw.
"You got me through it," he whispers, his free hand falling to my waist.
I smile, trying to ignore my racing heart, "well, they weren't my fears."
He grabs one of my hands in one of his own, "come on, I want to show you something."