“Tris,” he says, speaking against my fingers, “I’m all right.” “Why were you there?” I ask, letting my hand drop. “I was coming back from the control room. I heard a scream.” “What did you do to them?” I say. “I deposited Drew at the infirmary a half hour ago,” he says. “Peter and Al ran. Drew claimed they were just trying to scare you. At least, I think that’s what he was trying to say.” “He’s in bad shape?” “He’ll live,” he replies. He adds bitterly, “In what condition, I can’t say.” It isn’t right to wish pain on other people just because they hurt me first. But white-hot triumph races through me at the thought of Drew in the infirmary, and I squeeze Four’s arm. ∽Moony/ Book Sniffer
Posted on: Sun, 01 Sep 2013 12:23:53 +0000
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