Well, I Already Know What Happened To

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.

I Don't See Any Elderly People In The Crowd. Are There Any Old Dauntless? Do They Not Last That Long, Or Are They Just Sent Away When They Can't Jump Off Moving Trains Anymore?

They Try To Make You Think They Care About What You Do But They Don't. They Don't Want You To Act A Certain Way. So You're Easy To Understand. So You Won't Pose A Threat To Them.

He Is Not Sweet Or Gentle Or Particularly Kind. But He Is Smart And Brave, And Even Though He Saved Me, He Treated Me Like I Was Strong. That Is All I Need To Know.

I Should Probably Be Afraid. But Instead A Hysterical Laugh Bubbles Inside Me, Because I Just Remembered Something: Maybe I Can’t Hold A Gun. But I Have A Knife In My Back Pocket.