winchestrbrothrs

"You should thank me for helping you." I grit my teeth. "Thank you? You almost stabbed my ear, and you spent the entire time taunting me. Why should I thank you?” “You know, I’m getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on!” He glares at me, and even when he glares, his eyes look thoughtful. Their shade of blue is peculiar, so dark it is almost black, with a small patch of lighter blue on the left iris, right next to the corner of his eye. “Catch on? Catch on to what? That you wanted to prove to Eric how tough you are? That you’re sadistic, just like he is?” “I am not sadistic.” He doesn’t yell. I wish he would yell. It would scare me less. He leans his face close to mine, which reminds me of lying inches away from the attack dog’s fangs in the aptitude test, and says, "If I wanted to hurt you, don’t you think I would have already?" He crosses the room and slams the point of a knife so hard into the table that it sticks there, handle toward the ceiling. “I—” I start to shout, but he’s already gone. I scream, frustrated, and wipe some of the blood from my ear.

bookworm31

themortal-divergent-diaries:

All thoughts of being careful around Four leave me.
"Were you a transfer too?"
    “I thought I would only have trouble with the Candor asking too many questions,” he says coldly. “Now I’ve got Stiffs, too?”
    “It must be because you’re so approachable,” I say flatly. “You know. Like a bed of nails.”
    He stares at me, and I don’t look away. He isn’t a dog, but the same rules apply. Looking away is submissive. Looking him in the eye is a challenge. It’s my choice.
    Heat rushes into my cheeks. What will happen when this tension breaks.
    But he just says, “Careful, Tris.” —- (Divergent, Chapter 7)