Four sits down on the edge of the carousel, leaning against a plastic horse's foot. His eyes lift to the sky, where there are no stars, only a round moon peking through a thin layer of clouds. The muscles in his arms are relaxed; his hand rests on the back of his neck. He looks almost comfortable, holding that gun to his shoulder. I close my eyes briefly. Why does he distract me so easily? I need to focus.
Veronica RothI feel a thread tugging me again, but this time I know that it isnโt some sinister force dragging me toward death. This time I know itโs my mother's hand, drawing me into her arms. And I go gladly into her embrace.
Veronica Roth