Descending, descending slowly, the ground embracing a boy's body. But who's could it be, he asks? He feels nothing but blissfulness; peacefulness. A bullet lodges itself in his shoulder; another skimming his neck. The hands begin to lurch out, but the silence is too strong—the sensation of falling kicks in, but he closes his eyes, it is a dream. An illusion. Like the serums the Erudite create, it touches the mind and brings a horror to life—
I blink awake, hand shooting towards my right shoulder. Sure enough, an excruciating pain rockets through my body, and my hands return into my blurred vision with a sticky red fluid—yet somehow I know it is not all mine. I slowly rise; the world tipping in my vision, realizing.
That was not a dream.
The blonde girl who shot me was aiming for my forehead; for a kill.
The blonde girl was Dauntless.
The blonde girl was Tris.
No—this is all wrong. My mind is all muddled. That couldn't have been Tris … why would she have shot me? She is not a traitor; I know this as a fact. She hates the Erudite. But doubt, doubt so powerful that it could corrupt the mind amalgamates itself into my head.
A more urgent question comes to mind. Why am I here? I scan the alley briefly, knowing something was wrong. Where was Christina? Tris? Even Four would help me find everyone; find out what happened. They could be in peril.
I somehow find my way out of the alley and try to locate the rest of the Dauntless. The edges of my peripheral vision have smeared as I stumble out of the alley. My eyes dart around to find anyone, any Dauntless, desperately. Desire to get out of here floods my body. A broad-shouldered woman abruptly passes by me, brushing my shoulder, and I yell out in pain and descend to the floor. Gasping for breath, I see the woman glance back at me. I cannot make out the little details of her; my vision is way too blurred to do that.
As the woman walks towards to me, I attempt to move, but it's like I'm in a daze. No matter how much I can't manage to function my limbs, no matter how searing the pain is, I still try. It is no use. She gazes at me – is that a smile on her face? – and nods.
"This one will be put to good use."
I frown, trying to comprehend what she means, but before I can speak, she knocks me out with her foot. The last thing I see are her ice-blue eyes before they, too are overwhelmed by the depths of darkness.
My eyes dart open and before I can ask where I am, there is a strange sensation I feel in my mind.
I'm thinking too much. Too many thoughts to process. Need to stop. These are my first reactions.
But I find it is the opposite. There not enough thoughts. Not enough.
Calm down. I am – panic washes over my body. I don't know my own faction.
Okay, let's start with something easier. My name is …
Is …
Nothing comes to me other than hazy memories. I know nothing.
All I know is I am on a cot; I am in a type of hospital. Maybe they will cure my problem here. I don't know. I don't know.
Only one name comes to me. One so clear in all the haze.
A solitary name, a hot wash of warm brown eyes.
Christina.