Nothing Else Is All Right.”

He Bends Over To Untie His Shoes. “so, Have You Been Ostracized From Your Little Crowd Of Devotees?” “no,” I Say Automatically. Then I Add, “maybe. But They Aren’t My Devotees.” “please. They’re Like The Cult Of Four.” I Can’t Help But Laugh. “jealous? Wish You Had A Cult Of Psychopaths To Call Your Very Own?

This Is Bizarre," I Say. "i Think It's Beautiful," He Says. I Give Him A Look. "what?" He Laughs A Little. "they Each Have An Equal Role In Government; They Each Feel Equally Responsible. And It Makes Them Care; It Makes Them Kind. I Think That's Beautiful.

You Think My First Instinct Is To Protect You. Because You're Small, Or A Girl, Or A Stiff. But You're Wrong." He Leans His Face Close To Mine And Wraps His Fingers Around My Chin. His Hand Smells Like Metal. When Was The Last Time He Held A Gun, Or A Knife? My Skin Tingles At The Point Of Contact, Like He's Transmitting Electricity Through His Skin. "my First Instinct Is To Push You Until You Break, Just To See How Hard I Have To Press." He Says, His Fingers Squeezing At The Word Break. My Body Tenses At The Edge In His Voice, So I Am Coiled As Tight As A Spring, And I Forget To Breathe.

Then Drew Shuffles Into The Dining Hall. I Drop My Toast, And My Mouth Drifts Open. Calling Him “bruised” Would Be An Understatement. His Face Is Swollen And Purple. He Has A Split Lip And A Cut Running Through His Eyebrow. He Keeps His Eyes Down On The Way To His Table, Not Even Lifting Them To Look At Me. I Glance Across The Room At Four. He Wears The Satisfied Smile I Wish I Had On.

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?