The breeze tousles my hair like my father used to as I stare at the Chicago landscape from the glass roof of the pit. Uriah, a fellow radical, had shown me the place after a particularly harrowing experience where Amar had shouted about the practical uselessness and cruelty of soulmates. Uriah had sensed my discomfort; perhaps the hurt stance or the sour expression clued him in, and he had silently showed me the get away.

On a few occasions, I have seen others, but have never spoken to them. We are in inaudible agreement that this place is not for support. The support we need cannot be given in the form of insincere words of sympathy from fellow outliers; somehow the height and the isolation can supply what we need.

I know that I see it as an escape, a recluse, though others, such as Lynn, see it as another home.

There are phrases tattooed on the shattered sides of the dome, barely visible from inside the pit. "i am not a place for cowards" happens to be my favorite, displayed in white graffiti that appears as if it is still dripping, that it will be for eons past the memory of our names.

I am no place for cowards; I am a place for adrenaline rush, for acts of selfless bravery, for infinite moments, and never, never, never for cowards. Not anymore.

When I run to the roof through caving, twisted caverns ostensibly devoured by darkness that none in their right mind would explore without motive, the last thing I expect to see is Four, and I stand there feeling like a new shipment of drugs has just come in just when I promised to quit.

Lately, Four has left lingering, burning touches and I cannot keep my mind, which is supposed to be occupied with plans and strategies and training, off of making him smile, just to see it, to know that I caused a sliver of happiness.

A part of me will always be selfless, and that is not as terrible as some believe. But I did need that escape from him; from one of the reminders of where I came from, the one person in Dauntless that knows I have a soulmate.

The paper he had handed me that day in Abnegation I have tried hard to avoid in dreams had his address written on it in careful handwriting. It was the kind of writing that gave you the impression that it was generally sloppy for the plain reason of not enough time to take painstakingly straight strokes, but had tried quite hard this time. Not like any handwriting I had seen before, but still charming.

In case you want to talk, was the unspoken message. But I do not need him.

(I certainly do want him, though.)

Four opens his mouth only to close it again. I smile, showing him that his decision was correct. Words are hard to decipher. I prefer actions.

We unconsciously start to relax.

Four begins gesturing towards a location, looking pensive as he does. I follow his well-defined arm to a blurry point on the horizon. My old house, he mouths after a minute or so.

I jolt, becoming alert. While he was pointing at the skyline, I was staring at his hand.

These little actions are almost becoming habits; it is muscle memory to search for his face in a crowd.

I follow his arm to where his finger is pointing, confused when I end up at a gray, bland section.

Oh.

Four is from Abnegation.

I quickly scan him for hints that should have warned me. I was supposed to be extra wary, on the lookout for anything out of place. It is an incredible risk to be caught unawares when you are hiding a potential soulmate from the revolution.

Four had distracted me. Maybe to make up for my blind spot, I wonder, could he cover my back?

These are the thoughts that will get me into trouble one day; they are why I am so shocked now.

I quickly begin to notice what should have been obvious: the easily discernable Abnegation hair cut, the old limp from the lopsided shoes we were forced to wear, the gray eyes.

Well? he mimes.

"I didn't know," I say after the initial shock passes.

"Yeah, that's sort of the whole point. Not much support for old Abnegation these days," he sighs, smiling dryly, "sticking to the old values or whatever they're doing."

We are quiet for a moment, staring at the horizon, perhaps assessing how well and truly messed up the situation we are in is.

Afterwards, I do not notice when he leaves, and I do not remember how I return back to my bed, tucked in tightly like my mother would do back in Abnegation.

Report Filed By: Melinda Cravens of Abnegation, six years old [edited by Marco Delmar, Dauntless Guard]

Source: Myself

Today my mommy and daddy didn't come home. I want them to now, even though that's selfish. Mommy said before that some scary thing were happening but I should keep giving food to the poor, 'cause it wasn't fair that they were in that position, except now I might be too. I don't know why they were maybe hurt. They were soulmates that just wanted people to love each other. I'm scared. Are the bad people going to come for me, too?

Note by Marco Delmar: No sign of the girl's parents. Highly suspecting jealous radicals behind this murder/kidnapping. The couple was last seen at their jobs, having been driven to work by Mark Black with his daughter Susan Black accompanying. A search has been conducted for Jacob Cravens, a highly respected member of office, and his wife Sophia Prior. No results worth mentioning were obtained. Melinda Cravens to live with the Prior family for the time being.

hah look at that i am physically capable of doing a story longer than four chapters. so there, fate.

I am not a place for cowards are the words of the absolutely flawless Caitlyn Siehl.

what character do you want to see as caleb's soulmate?

review, review, review!