She says, 'run,' and I don't argue. I think about it, for about four seconds, before the thing is on Tris and she's cracking her own skull against it. It doesn't make me happy to run -- I mean, why should it? If anything, I feel ashamed. But I'm capable of seeing reason, and I see it, and reason says that I'm in no way equipped to deal with anything about this situation.
So I run.
"What should I do?" I shout over my shoulder at her, trying to focus even though my head is bobbing and I keep having to check my path to make sure it's clear.
It doesn't stay clear, and Tris doesn't get a chance to give me an order. Before I have a chance to react, there's someone else in front of me. They grab me by the wrist while I run, and when I reach the end of my arm in my momentum, I fall to the ground, feet skidding out from under me in the alley. Pain radiates from my elbow, and I can smell the salty, metallic scent of my own blood blooming in the cool evening air.
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So I run.
"What should I do?" I shout over my shoulder at her, trying to focus even though my head is bobbing and I keep having to check my path to make sure it's clear.
It doesn't stay clear, and Tris doesn't get a chance to give me an order. Before I have a chance to react, there's someone else in front of me. They grab me by the wrist while I run, and when I reach the end of my arm in my momentum, I fall to the ground, feet skidding out from under me in the alley. Pain radiates from my elbow, and I can smell the salty, metallic scent of my own blood blooming in the cool evening air.
"Oh God."