Becoming Fearless Isn't The Point. That's Impossible.

I Try To Catch My Breath And Calm Myself Down, But It Isn't Easy. I Was Dead. I Was Dead, And Then I Wasn't, And Why? Because Of Peter? Peter? I Stare At Him. He Still Looks So Innocent, Despite All That He Has Done To Prove That He Is Not. His Hair Lies Smooth Against His Head, Shiny And Dark, Like We Didn't Just Run For A Mile At Full Speed. His Round Eyes Scan The Stairwell And Then Rest On My Face. "what?" He Says. "why Are You Looking At Me Like That?" " How Did You Do It?" I Say.

So How Can I Hold Tobias’s Desperation Against Him, Like I’m Better Than Him, Like I’ve Never Let My Own Brokenness Blind Me?

I Breathe In. The Water Will Wash My Wounds Clean. I Breathe Out. My Mother Submerged Me In Water When I Was A Baby, To Give Me To God. It Has Been A Long Time Since I Thought About God, But I Think About Him Now. It Is Only Natural. I Am Glad, Suddenly, That I Shot Eric In The Foot Instead Of The Head.

Psyche You Out?" I Repeat. "i'm Your Friend. I Wouldn't Do That." He Doesn't Say Anything. I Can Tell He Doesn't Believe Me-not Quite.

Okay. Then...i Can Talk. Ask Me Something." "okay." He Laughs Shakily In My Ear. "why Is Your Heart Racing Tris?" I Cringe And Say, "well, I...i Barely Know You. I Barely Know You And I'm Crammed Up Against You In A Box, Four, What Do You Think?"... "maybe You Were Cut Out For Candor," He Says, "because You're A Terrible Liar.