I Need The Protection Of Seeming Weak.

Choices Can Be Made Again." -evelyn Johnson (eaton)

Candor Does Not Provide Us With Protection, Sustenance, Or Technological Innovation. Therefore You Are Expendable To Us.

Then Drew Shuffles Into The Dining Hall. I Drop My Toast, And My Mouth Drifts Open. Calling Him “bruised” Would Be An Understatement. His Face Is Swollen And Purple. He Has A Split Lip And A Cut Running Through His Eyebrow. He Keeps His Eyes Down On The Way To His Table, Not Even Lifting Them To Look At Me. I Glance Across The Room At Four. He Wears The Satisfied Smile I Wish I Had On.

I Knew By The Way He Looked At Her That He Held Her In A Higher Regard Than He Held Even Himself. No Selfishness Or Insecurity Kept Him From Seeing The Full Extent Of Her Goodeness, As It So Often Does With The Rest Of Us. That Kind Of Love May Only Be Possible In Abnegation. I Do Not Know. My Father: Erudite-born, Abnegation-grown. He Often Found It Difficult To Live Up To The Demands Of His Chosen Faction, Just As I Did. But He Tried, And He Knew True Selflessness When He Saw It.

I See A Few Hands Stretching Out To Me At The Edge Of The Net, So I Grabbed The First One I Could Reach And Pull Myself Across. I Roll Off, And Would Have Fallen Face-first Onto A Wood Floor If He Had Not Caught Me. "he" Is The Young Man Attached To The Hand I Grabbed. He Has A Spare Upper Lip And A Full Lower Lip. His Eyes Are So Deep-set That His Eyelashes Touch The Skin Under His Eyebrows, And They Are Dark Blue, A Dreaming, Sleeping, Waiting Color.