Some people believe that I will go nowhere, and maybe they're right, but maybe they're not.

My Tris should look pale and small--she is pale and small, after all--but instead the room is full of her.

I wake wondering how I did not notice, every day I sat across from her at the breakfast table, that she was full to bursting with Dauntless energy. Was it because she hid it well? Or was it because I wasn't looking?

There's a reason why she left them, Lauren," he says. His voice is deep, and it rumbles. "What's your name?" "Um..." I don't know why I hesitate. But "Beatrice" just doesn't sound right anymore. "Think about it," he says, a faint smile curling his lips. " You don't get to pick again." A new place, a new name. I can be remade here. "Tris," I say firmly.

In the days that follow, it's movement, not stillness, that helps to keep the grief at bay.

Independent and uninvolved. Must be nice. -Tris

So how can I hold Tobias’s desperation against him, like I’m better than him, like I’ve never let my own brokenness blind me?