Some things are hard to let go of.

Blood is a strange color. It's darker than you expect it to be.

My father has a way of persuading people without charm that has always confused me. He states his opinions as if they’re facts, and somehow his complete lack of doubt makes you believe him. That quality frightens me now, because I know what he told me: that I was broken, that I was worthless, that I was nothing. How many of those things did he make me believe?

Fine," he says. "Then I love you.

Then everyone can call you Six.” “Four and Six,” I say.

'Divergent' was my utopian world. I mean, that wasn't the plan. I never even set out to write dystopian fiction, that's just what I had when I was finished. At the beginning, I was just writing about a place I found interesting and a character with a compelling story, and as I began to build the world, I realized that it was my utopia.

Sometimes I see him as just another person, and sometimes I feel the sight of him in my gut, like a deep ache.