Since He Saved Me From

We May Both Be Bad, But There’s A Huge Difference Between Us—i’m Not Content With Being This Way.

You Nearly Died Today,' He Says. 'i Almost Shot You. Why Didn't You Shoot Me, Tris?' 'i Couldn't Do That,' I Say. 'it Would Have Been Like Shooting Myself.' He Looks Pained And Leans Closer To Me, So His Lips Brush Mine When He Speaks.

I Know That I Am Birdlike, Made Narrow And Small As If For Taking Flight, Built Straight-waisted And Fragile. But When He Touches Me Like He Can't Bear To Take His Hand Away, I Don't Wish I Was Any Different.

It Is Impossible To Erase My Choices.

Though I Know That He Had Something To Do With The Attack Simulation, And With All Those Deaths, I Find It Difficult To Pair Those Actions With The Man I See In Front Of Me. I Wonder If This Is How It Is With All Evil Men, That To Someone, They Look Just Like Good Men, Talk Like Good Men, Are Just As Likeable As Good Men.