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What I am being accused of makes no sense. I am not responsible for the death of anyone in Abnegation, and the Divergents killed on my orders were all murderers, like most Divergents are.
It was all planned out carefully, but of course I understand that most people didn’t realize what was really happening. That was the point of all the secrecy with the Bureau.
But I can explain everything. The attack on Abnegation did not happen; it was all fake – the people being killed on the security cameras were not real.
The plan was to pretend to send an army to kill them, because it would stop Divergents from targeting them. The plan was good. They would be hidden, declared dead, everyone would think I had done it, and it would save them until the threat of Divergents was over. But now, the truth must have come out. It should be known that they are alive, that the only murders on my orders were for the greater good, to save the faction system, to save the city.
One of my only regrets was to have used Tris Prior as a test subject. She was Divergent, but she was innocent, as far as the files said. But it had been necessary, because Divergents as a whole were a threat, and I needed to understand her, the most Divergent person of all, to understand and control them all. It was the lesser evil, so I did it.
But this isn’t what I’m being accused of. I’m being accused of much worse things, of things that I did not do. Things that were only that way in appearance, and very different under the surface. People should know that by now. So why am I being accused of all this?
My trial is today. People are throwing things at me on the way to the hall where trials take place; everyone really does believe I am a murderer. Why hasn’t the truth come out? A yelp escapes me as a projectile connects with my shoulder, but I am being dragged forwards and follow, ignoring the attacks as much as I can.
I stand in the middle of the crowded room and watch as Jack approaches me with the calculating look of a predator circling its prey.
“May the truth set you free,” he says coldly.
I don’t let his tactics intimidate me. The truth will set me free. It will. I am certain of it.
Jack speaks up, and as he addresses me, he also addresses the entire room. “There is no doubt that you are responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, Ms Matthews.”
“They’re not dead,” I say.
“That’s an interesting defense,” Jack Kang drawls mockingly.
“They’re not. They’re hidden in a safe house, none of them were killed, much less on my orders.”
Why is he looking at me like this? He does not seem to believe me, but the truth isn’t that difficult to understand. I saved them, and for that, I had to pretend to lead an attack, an attack that was in fact a rescue mission. But he’s not having any of it.
“Stop trying to make fun of us. Honesty is appreciated.” The ex-leader of Candor is once again resorting to his faction’s vocabulary. “Like I said, there is no doubt you were the leader of the attack against Abnegation.”
“But they are not dead, there was no attack!”
“Ms Matthews, you’re absurd. Their deaths were recorded on video.”
I stare at him, struck silent by the only thing that can make me doubt my own logic: empirical proof.
This can’t be real. Did they die in some other way? Did the false attack fail; were they murdered anyway? I wasn’t part of all the procedures after ordering the beginning of the false attack. I was told it had worked well, that they were all hidden in a safe house.
I look around myself to a sea of belligerent expressions. They are ready to attack, ready to scream for my death. My eyes fall on Tris Prior, the only person in the room without spite and disgust in her expression. She looks confused, and there is a strange hint of something like horrified understanding on her face.
I take the opportunity. “Tris, please! None of this happened. I’m sorry I had to experiment on you, but I had to save the city. Please!”
“You organized a mission to kill Divergents,” the Candor leader continues, ignoring my desperate plea. “So my only question is this. Did you feel justified in organizing these violent attacks and murders, in nearly starting a war?”
“Divergents were dangerous. They had murdered so many people and they could do so much more damage, I had to stop them.”
“They killed no one.”
“They did, the Bureau against Divergent Violence had proof that they did.”
“The what?”
“It was a secret organization, but they were supposed to have exposed themselves by now. Avery said they would!”
“Who?”
“Avery Grant, the director. He said they would expose themselves to protect me from the backlash of stopping Divergents, and that they would tell everyone that I didn’t kill anyone from Abnegation, that my work only aimed to save them.”
“You’re being ridiculous. Stop this.”
“No, please!” I am practically screaming by now. “I didn’t kill anyone, none of this was my fault!”
I need to convince them. I struggle against them, against my restraints, and I am conscious that my wrists are bloody from the chains, that I am on my knees in the middle of a crowded room, a position I would never have been in before. Their hatred drowns me and I feel like I’m going to collapse. But it doesn’t matter, because if they don’t believe me, I’ll be dead within the minute.
“I would like to talk to her alone.”
Her clear voice cuts across the room. Tris. I sigh in relief; all hope is not lost.
“Ms Prior, you can’t seriously be asking me to let her out of here alive, even temporarily,” Evelyn protests.
“Here or elsewhere. I would like to talk to her. Alone.” Tris repeats coldly.
“She’ll try to kill you.”
“I can defend myself easily against her, Evelyn. She’s not armed, but I am. She’s not trained for fighting, and I am. Don’t insult my abilities.”
“Fine,” Evelyn says, exasperated. “But don’t kill her, her execution needs to be public.”
We are lead out and to a room which seems to be an unused prison cell. It’s small and the gray walls are bare. There is no furniture, and the only source of light is a small window. Tris guides me in with a hand between my shoulder blades, until we are both standing in the middle of the small dark room.
As Evelyn leaves, Tris calls her back.
“Evelyn, can you get someone to check who this Avery Grant is?”
Evelyn nods and leaves. Tris turns to me.
“What is this about? You know it’s not going to work.”
“It’s the truth,” I reply, and my voice sounds a little strangled. Too much is at stake, it’s difficult not to panic.
“My parents are dead, Jeanine. I was there. I saw them die, both of them.”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen! I was saving them, they said I was saving them.” Tears are starting to stream down my cheeks but I can’t stop it, I don’t care to. This can’t be real.
“Jeanine, this organization you mention – the bureau – does not exist.”
“They’re entirely secret. Nobody else knows, I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. People had to think I was behind it all.”
At that moment, Evelyn comes back. “Tris,” she calls, and Tris looks over to her.
“Yes?” She approaches her, and after a minute of murmurs, Evelyn leaves and Tris comes towards me again.
“Jeanine, Avery Grant does not exist. There is no register with anyone with this name.”
“He was the one who gave me the information–”
“I can’t believe…” Tris looks distraught. “This is horrible. You – you didn’t know what you were doing, did you?”
“I did, they told me all about you, about Divergents, I had to save the city.” I am desperately rejecting what she is implying. I know what is coming, but I have to deny it or everything – my past, my life, my identity – will turn out to have been a lie.
Her voice is gentle when she finally pronounces the words that will change everything. “Jeanine, they – the bureau, Grant – they don’t exist. It was all…” she drifts off, then whispers, “all inside your mind.”
I fall to my knees.
“No, this can’t be.”
“There is more than enough evidence of your wrongdoings, Jeanine. Everyone knows you ordered the murders of Divergents, and the attack on Abnegation. People close to you know and confirmed it under the truth serum. Security cameras recorded your actions like everyone else’s. You did it.”
“No…” I’m not in control of anything anymore. Apparently, I never was. Nothing is like I thought it was. Nothing. I barely manage to turn to the side before I throw up. I feel Tris’ hand on my back as I start sobbing, desperately hoping that Avery will come to explain, yet deep down, knowing that he can’t, because he never existed.
The next few hours are blurry. I sob on the ground for what feels like hours and throw up again, I am pulled against someone’s chest as I cry, as I try to deny it and scream for some kind of recognition that I did not make everything up. Because I can’t have. That’s what my mind is repeating over and over – it can’t have all been of my own invention. I am drowning in my terror and I gasp for air as the panic takes over, then denial comes back and I start screaming again. I nearly welcome the relief of unconsciousness when it finally comes.
I wake with no idea of where I am. I am temporarily blinded by the bright light, and when my eyes start adjusting, I realize that I am in what looks like a hospital room. Tris is standing a short distance away. I try to move and quickly realize that I am tied to my bed. It all comes back to me. I am a murderer. I ordered the extermination of a whole faction, and at least half of them died. Hundreds of people. The parents of the girl who is standing in front of me.
“When am I being executed?” I ask her. My voice is barely a whisper.
“You aren’t. Not yet, at least. It’s being debated.”
“What?”
“Your office has been searched, as well as your apartment. While there is no doubt that you killed them, there is also no doubt that you didn’t think you did, and that you genuinely believed in the existence of this organization. Your office is… not what anyone expected. It proved many things.”
I stay silent.
She looks at me intently. “The hallucinations were powerful, weren’t they?”
I nod shakily. “I thought…” I start, but the words die in my throat. Everything I thought turned out to be a lie.
“I know,” she says softly, softer than I ever heard her speak. “All the papers you drew up with the evidence, all the secret work you did for the Bureau, the plan to save Abnegation… I’ve seen it all.” She takes a breath. “I witnessed in your favor, Jeanine.”
I look up sharply and stare at her before shaking my head. “You shouldn’t have. I did all this. How many deaths am I responsible for?”
“You aren’t responsible, Jeanine.”
“How many?” I ask her more firmly.
She sighs. “Between five and six hundred.”
I close my eyes. I want to cry, but I feel too empty, it all feels so surreal, like a nightmare I am going to wake up from. I feel the mattress dip down as she sits on the edge of my bed. As she touches my shoulder hesitantly, I open my eyes to look at her.
“I hated you, but now I can’t anymore, because I understand why it happened. You weren’t yourself. You weren’t rational. And for these reasons that made me forgive you, you need to forgive yourself.”
“How could I? How could I ever forgive myself?"
“You’re sick, Jeanine. Whatever part of you did this is not who you really are.”
“I don’t know who I really am. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
The reasons don’t matter, I broke so many lives. I tore the city apart.
I can’t live with myself.