People, I have discovered, are layers and layers of secrets. You believe you know them, that you understand them, but their motives are always hidden from you, buried in their own hearts. You will never know them, but sometimes you decide to trust them.
"What did you do?” This time the question tears from my throat like a growl. I throw myself toward him. “What did you do?” I scream. “You die, I die too. I asked you not to do this. You made your decision. These are the repercussions."
The Candor sing the praises of the truth, but they never tell you how much it costs.
The truth has a way of changing people's plans.
Be careful, though." "Aren't I always?" "No, I think the word for how you usually are is 'reckless.
Nothing else is all right.” His whisper tickles my cheek. “But we are.
We both have war inside us. Sometimes it keeps us alive. Sometimes it threatens to destroy us.
We had one moment in history where we were disseminating what we now call the Islamic State. That's when we finally cut the deal with the insurgents.
We cleared many of their towns and cities and rural areas of al-Qaida Iraq and other insurgents.
I think people think their incomes have been flat lining for a long period of time. They feel that the next generation's opportunities are not going to be improvement. So and I also think that social media then allows insurgent movements to gain scale at speed.
In countries like Afghanistan, the corruption is in your face. In Nigeria, I heard of judges making sex the bargaining chip rather than money. Now let's put that in the context of an honor-based society. Imagine that you're the brother of a woman who got raped by a judge to have her case heard in court. What do you want to do? You want to kill the judge. So here is an insurgent movement that hands you a gun. You have rage, and they give you an outlet for your rage.
Insurgent, he says. Noun. A person who acts in opposition to the established authority, who is not necessarily regarded as a belligerent.
No matter how long you train someone to be brave, you never know if they are or not until something real happens.
Whoa there, Tobias," says the man to my left. "Weren't you raised a Stiff? I thought the most you people did was... graze hands or something." "Then how do you explain all the Abnegation children?" Tobias raises his eyebrows. "They are brought into being by sheer force of will," the woman on the arm of the chair interjects. "Didn't you know that, Tobias?" "No, I wasn't aware." He grins. "My apologies.
You look older.” “Yes, well. The passage of time tends to do that to a person.
Do remember, though, that sometimes the people you oppress become mightier than you would like.
"I'll be your family now," he says. "I love you," I say. He stares at me. I wait with my hands clutching his arms for stability as he considers his response. He frowns at me. "Say it again." "Tobias," I say, "I love you."
Sometimes,” he says, sliding his arm across my shoulders, “people just want to be happy, even if it’s not real.
I love you." He frowns. "Say it again." "Tobias," I say. "I love you.
"You die, I die too.” Tobias looks over his shoulder at me. “I asked you not to do this. You made your decision. These are the repercussions."
Who cares about everyone? What about me?
And sometimes, if you want the truth, you have to demand it.
I read somewhere, one, that crying defies scientific explanation. Tears are only meant to lubricate the eyes. There is no real reason for tear glands to overproduce tears at the behest of emotion. I think we cry to release the animal parts of us without losing our humanity. Because inside of me is a beast that snarls, and growls, and strains toward freedom, toward Tobias, and, above all, towards life. And as hard as I try, I cannot kill it.
Sleep,” he says. “I'll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you.” “With what?” “My bare hands, obviously.
I love you," I say. I said that once, before I went to Erudite headquarters, but he was asleep then. I don't know why I didn't say it when he could hear it. Maybe I was afraid to trust him with something so personal as my devotion. Or afraid that I did not know what it was to love someone. But now I think the scary thing was not saying it before it was too late. Not saying it before it was almost too late for me.
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