You don’t know how strong you are, until being strong is the only chance you have left. Weakness is living in denial. Only the strongest people ask for help.
I hear him breathing behind me, loud and fast. “Are you all right, Four?”
“Are you human, Tris? Being up this high…” He gulps for air. “It doesn’t scare you at all?”
I look over my shoulder at the ground. If I fall now, I will die. But I don’t think I will fall. A gust of air presses against my left side, throwing my body weight to the right. I gasp and cling to the rungs, my balance shifting. Four’s cold hand clamps around one of my hips, one of his fingers finding a strip of bare skin just under the hem of my T-shirt. He squeezes, steadying me and pushing me gently to the left, restoring my balance. Now I can’t breathe. I pause, staring at my hands, my mouth dry. I feel the ghost of where his hand was, his fingers long and narrow. “You okay?” he asks quietly. “Yes,” I say, my voice strained.