My problem might be that even if I did go home, I wouldn’t belong there, among people who give without thinking and care without trying.

There are so many ways to be brave in this world. Sometimes it involves giving up everything you have ever known, or everyone you have ever loved for the sake of something greater.

He turns toward me. I want to touch him, but I’m afraid of his bareness; afraid that he will make me bare too. ‘Is this scaring you, Tris?’ ‘No,’ I croak. I clear my throat. ‘Not really. I’m only…afraid of what I want.’ ‘What do you want?’ Then his face tightens. ‘Me?’ Slowly I nod.

I wish we were alone,” he says. “I almost always wish that,” I say.

I'll have to keep looking for more of them, more brief moments of freedom in a world that refuses to allow it.

I love you" I say. "I love you, too" he says. "I'll see you soon.

I take a deep breath. I'm not sure where that swell of desperation came from, but know that I've acknowledge it, it's impossible to ignore, like a living thing has awakened from a long sleep inside me. It writhes in my stomach and throat. I need to leave. I need the truth.