Evil Depends On Where You're Standing.

I Hear Footsteps And Four's Hands Wrap Around My Wrists. I Let Him Pry My Hands From My Eyes. He Encloses One Of My Hands Perfectly Between Two Of His. The Warmth Of His Skin Overwhelms The Ache In My Fingers From Holding The Bars. "you All Right?" He Asks, Pressing Our Hands Together. "yeah." He Starts To Laugh.

Aren’t You Going To Ask Me If I’m All Right?” I Say. “no, I’m Pretty Sure You’re Not All Right.” He Shakes His Head. “i’m Going To Ask You Not To Make Any Decisions Until We’ve Talked About It.

But Now I’m Wondering If I Need It Anymore, If We Ever Really Need These Words, “dauntless,” “erudite,” “divergent,” “allegiant,” Or If We Can Just Be Friends Or Lovers Or Siblings, Defined Instead By The Choices We Make And The Love And Loyalty That Binds Us.

It Is A Gift. You Cannot Earn It, Or It Ceases To Be A Gift.

Scrubbing The Floor When No One Else Wanted To Was Something That My Mother Would Have Done. If I Can't Be With Her, The Least I Can Do Is Act Like Her Sometimes.