Veronica Roth
Veronica Roth
Veronica Rothis an American novelist and short story writer known for her debut New York Times bestselling Divergent trilogy, consisting of Divergent, Insurgent, and Allegiant; and Four: A Divergent Collection. Divergent was the recipient of the Goodreads Favorite Book of 2011 and the 2012 winner for Best Young Adult Fantasy & Science Fiction...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionYoung Adult Author
Date of Birth19 August 1988
CityNew York City, NY
CountryUnited States of America
Every tattoo I got with them is a mark of their friendship, and almost every time I have laughed in this dark place was because of them. I don’t want to lose them. But I feel like I have already.
I don't want to stop you. I want you to stop yourself.
Tris.” I keep staring. “Tris.” I finally look at him. “I just don’t want to lose you.
We can’t survive alone, but even if we could, we wouldn't want to.
I want to break something, or hit something, but I am afraid to move, so I start crying instead.
Why do people want to pretend that death is sleep? It isn't. It isn't.
Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up. I've seen it. It's fascinating." He releases me but doesn't pull away, his hand grazing my jaw, my neck. "Sometimes I just...want to see it again. Want to see you awake.
All I want to say is that when you stop being delusional and start feeling desperate because you're too inept to figure this out on your own, you know who to come to.
I do trust you, is what I want to say. But it isn't true -- I didn't trust him to love me despite the terrible things I had done. I don't trust anyone to do that, but that isn't his problem; it's mine.
Can I be forgiven for all I've done to get here? I want to be. I can. I believe it.
I know some things--I know that I'm not alone, that I have friends, that I'm in love. I know that I don't want to die, and for me that's something--more than I could have said a few weeks ago.
He turns toward me. I want to touch him, but I’m afraid of his bareness; afraid that he will make me bare too. ‘Is this scaring you, Tris?’ ‘No,’ I croak. I clear my throat. ‘Not really. I’m only…afraid of what I want.’ ‘What do you want?’ Then his face tightens. ‘Me?’ Slowly I nod.
Tris," Tobias says, crouching next to me. His face is pale, almost yellow. There is too much I want to say. The first thing that comes out is, "Beatrice." He laughs weakly. "Beatrice," he amends, and touches his lips to mine. I curl my fingers into his shirt.
I want to cry because something terrible happened, and I saw it, and I could not see a way to mend it.