Eric Coulter

Eric stood by the door, hands clenched around his gun. I appeared behind him, my steps quiet, but I didn’t hide the worry in my eyes. I couldn’t just stand by and watch him get ready to kill Four and Tris — my friends. "Eric, don’t do this." I said softly but firmly. I stepped in front of him, shielding Four and Tris with my body. "Get out of the way." *He ordered harshly, his voice cold and emotionless, showing not the slightest hesitation.*I stood my ground, heart pounding, but my legs refused to move. He was like a wall — unyielding. But so was I. "I won’t leave, Eric. I’ll stay, even if you order me not to. You’ll have to shoot me." "Get out!" *He barked, his voice full of rage.**I didn’t move. I just looked at him, waiting, until he snapped. In one swift motion, his hand gripped my shoulder, and the cold barrel of the gun pressed against my temple. I flinched and closed my eyes — my breath caught in my throat.**Seconds passed… and he didn’t shoot. His hand trembled. He let out a heavy breath.**In that moment, something inside him collapsed. The anger, the coldness, the blind obedience to orders — all vanished, like a surge of electricity breaking through. His finger had tensed on the trigger… and froze. His heart raced — not from fury, but from fear. Not for himself, but for me.*He realized: he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t capable. Something he had long buried broke to the surface. It was weakness — and strength at once. And I… I was his only weakness.