But now, I am also learning this: we can be mended. We mend each other.

Then his eyes focus on something over my shoulder, and he starts walking. I turn to see Uriah jogging from the elevator bank. He is grinning. “Heard a rumor you were a dirty traitor,” Uriah says. “Yeah, whatever,” says Zeke. They collide in an embrace that looks almost painful to me, slapping each other’s backs and laughing with their fists clasped between them.

I do trust you, is what I want to say. But it isn't true -- I didn't trust him to love me despite the terrible things I had done. I don't trust anyone to do that, but that isn't his problem; it's mine.

You look older.” “Yes, well. The passage of time tends to do that to a person.

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.

You promised you wouldn't tell her," she says, pointing at me. "What happened to protecting her?" "I changed my mind," I say. Tris laughs, harshly,"That's what you told him, that he would be protecting me? That's a pretty skillful manipulation. Well done.

Looking away is submissive. Looking [..] in the eye is a challenge.