A/N:
Before you proceed to the fanfic, I would like to list a few warnings, a little background information, and a disclaimer.
Author's Warning:
This story will contain spoilers from Divergent and Insurgent and minor spoilers from Allegiant. If you do not wish to have some awesome plot twists revealed at this moment in time, I would suggest you read no further. BUT, if you have read both Divergent and Insurgent or don't mind spoilers, read on.
This fanfic is rated M/ MA and is intended for Mature Audiences only. There will be smut. Plenty of smut along with several controversial issues such as Nonconsensual/ Dubious consensual sex scenes, explicit sex scenes, kidnapping, thoughts of suicide, and minor torture. If any of the listed issues are offensive to you DO NOT READ THIS FANFIC, and I wish to apologize in advance if you decide to read the story and it brings forth unwanted memories.
Background: This Fanfic is going to pick up at the end of chapter 15/ beginning of chapter 16 in Insurgent, after Dauntless Rebels have invaded Candor on a mission to find the Divergent and Tris has just noticed Eric standing behind her after she helps a Divergent little girl escape.
Disclaimer: Veronica Roth is the genius behind the Divergent trilogy and all characters/plot lines. I own nothing and these my silly fan-girl fantasies that I am recording into a fanfiction piece for other fan-people to enjoy
Enough of my drabbles, I present you the fanfic!
I tremble
They're gonna eat me alive
If I stumble
They're gonna eat me alive
Can you hear my heart
Beating like a hammer
Beating like a hammer
Help, I'm Alive- Metro
Chapter One: Help, I'm alive
It wasn't until I saw the girl escape into the stairwell that I realized I'd been holding my breath in anticipation. Thud. Thud. Thud. My heartbeat continued at a steady pace as I surveyed my surroundings. Two Dauntless traitors lingered to my left, still temporarily distracted in their conversation to have noticed me.
I have to catch up to Uriah and warn the others before it is too late. I took a step toward the stairwell hoping my stealth and disguise would shield me from any suspicion.
"Where do you think you are going, stiff?" a hand latched onto my injured shoulder and held me in place. I shuddered at the familiar, arrogant tone. It was the same voice that belonged to the Dauntless traitor who mocked my weakness during initiate training and who I overheard conspiring with Jeanine Matthews before Peter, Drew, and Al grabbed me. Eric. I cursed under my breath and slowly turned in a circle to meet his metallically embellished face.
"Eric. It's been a while," I replied slowly inching my hand towards the knife I had hastily grabbed before the attack. My pointer finger had just barely grazed its cool steel surface when Eric dug his nail into my wounded shoulder soliciting a fresh shock of pain through my body. He smirked when a painful yelp escaped my lips. In desperation I brought my elbow up and thrust it toward Eric's face colliding with his chin.
As soon as I felt his vice-like grip release my shoulder, I started sprinting toward the stairwell. Eric may be stronger, but my small frame gave me the advantage of speed.
"You little Bitch!" Eric spat behind me. Hopefully my elbow robbed his smile him of a tooth or two. The exit wasn't far from me now. If I extended my hand far enough, I would reach the handle. Eric collided with my back, tackling and pinning me to the ground on my stomach. I didn't stop squirming until I felt the barrel of his gun prod my back. I could feel the blood from the ruptured bullet wound dampen the back of my t-shirt.
"I don't understand," he said with a wolfish grin, "how you could possibly be stupid enough to come up here with no gun."
"You don't know that for sure," I gasped out, my small frame was crushed under his weight. The knife had been slightly dislodged during our collision and I could feel the handle pressing into my back, praying that Eric wouldn't notice my last weapon of defense.
"Nice try, Tris. We both know you'd never make it as a Candor," Eric shifted, releasing some of his weight from the crushing embrace while pressing the barrel of his revolver harshly into my back. "I was informed about your little encounter with Will and how you haven't been able to touch a gun since you put a bullet through his head. You know I wouldn't hesitate to shoot you if you try anything stupid," he warned. He painfully yanked my ponytail and forced me to my feet causing my vision to swim.
"We both know you wouldn't make it as a Candor," I mimicked when my vision focused again. "You can't kill me," I say, "not if you are still Jeanine's lapdog. She wants me alive," I said triumphantly, relishing the moment the grin vanished from Eric's face.
"I'm surprised you would assume yourself to be so valuable," Eric replies forcing me to walk in the direction of the elevators, "considering I was the one who told Jeanine to construct the water tank just for you." The memory of my near death encounter caused an involuntary shiver to erupt throughout my body. I wasn't going to let Eric drag me back to Erudite headquarters.
"She thought studying one of the Divergent's reaction to a real-life version of a simulation would be fascinating," he sneered. I can feel his breath tickle the hair on the back of neck. He smelled like sweat and scotch. "And I agreed. You see, Ingenuity—one of the qualities we most value in Erudite— requires creativity."
Ingenuity. Creativity. Snarky Erudite Bastards. If I wanted to escape Eric, I'd have to think like an Erudite. He managed to take me down by attacking me where I was the weakest— the bullet wound on my shoulder. I had shot Eric in the left foot. With Eric's injured foot in my mind I lifted my leg and stomped on it with as much force as I could muster. Eric yelped in surprise and I slipped from his grasp before he could regain his composure. I sprinted passed the door and into the stairwell as fast as I could, knowing Eric would be slowed down by his injury. I ran up the stair case, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
I have to get out. I have to get away from Eric and Jeanine. I have to— my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a gunshot. The smooth white tile next to me exploded as I dodged away from where the bullet hit. Perhaps I am not as valuable to the Erudite as I believed.
I scaled three flights of stairs before I heard the shuffle of feet behind me. They were gaining on me. I tried the door at the top of the stairs in desperation only to find it locked.. The dauntless rebels caught up and formed a semi-circle around me training their guns on my chest. Eric shoved a rebel out of the way as he approached me, seething. I took slight pleasure in the fact that he was limping, but quickly focused on the enemy in front of me and grabbed at my back with my left hand, relief flooding me as my hand grasped the knife.
"It's over Tris," Eric hissed pointing his gun in between my eyes. If I was going to die, I wouldn't be going alone. I pulled out my knife and lunged at him. Before the knife reached his torso, I felt a sharp pain at something collided with my temple and my vision faded to black.
A raw ache echoed in my skull when I pried my eyes open. Panic settled into my stomach as I recalled what happened last time I was conscious. Gritting my teeth, I tried sitting up to assess my surroundings and groaned, immediately regretting that decision. I decided to observe the area from what I presumed to be the floor. The cement underneath my back cooled the exposed skin on my arms and shoulders.
I lifted my hand to the side of my head feeling something tacky coat the skin above my ear— blood. Why wasn't I dead? I certainly pissed Eric off enough to earn a bullet in my head. Perhaps he shot me after all and this what death feels like— a cold, empty, and painfully eternal existence. I decided against it after the pounding in my head increased. Pain is a sign of life, the body's way of alerting you of an injury. I remember my brother telling me this when I had clumsily tripped over the uneven sidewalk in the factionless sector on my way home from school. Caleb had dutifully carried me back to our house, chiding me for not keeping a better watch over my surroundings. He also had to remind me not to cry because that would draw unnecessary attention, something the Abnegation didn't believe in. The thought of my broken family brought a stab of pain to my chest. The one area where I was sure I wasn't injured during my spat with Eric. I had hardly been given the chance to grieve over the death of my parents before I had to fight for my life again at the Amity compound.
The air smelled familiar— like earth, sawdust, and sweat. Metal girders lined the ceiling of the dark room, supporting the hollowed out rock ceiling. The top of a bunk bed caught my eye and I carefully turned my head in disbelief. This looks like the initiate dormitory in dauntless headquarters, I mused. The room looked disheveled, as if someone hastily moved the furniture about, leaving behind bits of paper, cloth, and dust. Two bunk beds remained in the room: one just an arms-length away from me and another about ten feet away.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Stiff. You haven't moved all day, like a stiff pancake," a gravelly voice called from across the room. Hesitantly I lifted my head to find who the voice belonged to. Sitting on the bunk further away, was Peter Hayes in all his glory. Well, almost all his glory. His usually smooth brown hair was caked with blood and a large gash marred his forehead from hairline to eyebrow. His arms and legs were discolored with large bruises and he seemed to be nursing a sore shoulder. Despite his various injuries, he still had the attitude of the boy I met on the train to Dauntless headquarters after the choosing ceremony. The arrogant sneer that seemed permanently etched in his features was on full display. A person with the audacity to shove a knife in another's eye or throw them into the chasm because they stood in his way.
My eyes shifted to the object in his lap. A gun. Why would Peter have a gun? I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at the boy who I had unconsciously saved from a bullet landing in his brain, just a week ago. He remained completely uninterested in my appraisal of our surroundings and more interested in the weapon on his lap. I couldn't say I blamed him. In the world we live in, having a weapon increased your chance of survival, even if just for one day. Deciding he wasn't in any condition to attack me at the moment, I took my eyes off him to assess my injuries. I took my time getting off the floor using the bunk bed behind me to assist my endeavor. Groaning and gasping, I managed to seat myself on the bottom bunk and decided I was satisfied enough with this position for the time being.
"Eric really made a mark on you. Several to be exact," he smirked to himself, "but don't worry, I think it brings out your eyes." I ignored his remark and began inspecting my injuries.
The Dauntless Traitor jacket I disguised myself in had been removed while I saw unconscious. Angry red lines were left behind on my pale skin where the seams of the leather jacket were sewn together. Those were probably from pressure and dehydration and weren't as big of an issue as the bullet wound that throbbed in my shoulder. I could feel my heart beat in my shoulder as my body tried to mend the wound Eric had reopened with his dirty hands. Perhaps I could find something to wash it out before I tore off a strip of a bed sheet to make a makeshift bandage. Several other minor scrapes and scratches decorated my arm, some with congealed blood surrounding them, others with lymph trickling out.
"Check your shoulder," Peter mumbled from across the room, "looks like they hit you with one too." I was about to snap that I had been aware of my bullet wound since the Dauntless attack simulation until I noticed a blue dye surrounding a small metal disk near one of my bird tattoos.
"Did you shoot me with this?" I questioned Peter folding my arms across my chest and eyeing the weapon in his lap. Now I not only have a bullet wound in one shoulder but a funky new blue tattoo with a metal disk in the center.
"Sure. Right after I shot myself with one in the neck," Peter said sarcastically pointing at the identical blue stain in the conjuncture between his neck and shoulder. I continued to glare at him unamused before he continued, "They must have shot you with one when they captured you. Everyone has one."
"Why am I here, Peter?" I snapped. "What did you do with Tobias?"
"Woah, there Stiff," his eyes finally met mine. "You think I have all the answers?" He questioned back in the same heated tone, raising his uninjured eyebrow. "My only instructions were to keep this trained on you," he raised the gun in his lap and pointed it at my chest.
"Why would they need you to babysit me?" I shouted back grabbing the metal pole connecting the two bunks to support myself, "I'm just a little girl, after all."
"We both know that is the biggest understatement of the century. I saw what you did to Eric," Peter replied, lowering the gun slightly. "Besides, they must have thought that you're number one on my list of 'top ten people I would like to spend my free time babysitting'," Peter let out a frustrated sigh. Since when were Candor people so sarcastic?
"And they thought placing you in a room with me would make me behave? I disarmed you before during the simulation attack and I could easily do it again," I threatened. "Inured or not," I added for good measure.
"It won't happen again," he narrowed his eyes. Despite his injured state, we both knew I would be bluffing if I thought I could take him down with my wounded shoulder.
"So you ran back to the Erudite and Dauntless traitors after escaping the Amity compound?" It wasn't really a question but more of an accusation.
"I prefer to be on the winning side of disputes," he exchanged the gun to his left hand to wipe a sweaty palm on the bed sheet before returning it to his right. "Turns out the Erudite aren't found of traitors or Stiff sympathizers," he replied. "Of course they didn't just accept me with open arms—no thanks to you. As soon as I surrendered to you and showed you the way to the control room, I was blacklisted." Peter said, his tone softening slightly. "They were planning on executing me, but I made them a deal they couldn't refuse." He responded, shadows reflecting across his angelic face.
"What? You pledged your undying devotion for their cause in exchange for their sympathy?"
"I offered them information I gathered from Marcus when we escaped Amity together. And this." He reached into his pocket and held up the memory stick that I had stolen from Erudite headquarters. "It was simple, really. While you were busy trailing Marcus, I snuck into your room to find it wedged in the exact same spot I found it in the first time— behind the dresser. Didn't really think that through did you? Jeanine was quite pleased that I managed to return this to her, still intact. She was sure it had been destroyed."
"You lying son of a bitch! Jeanine was right! I destroyed it. I smashed that device to a million pieces!"
"You smashed a fake. Do you really think I would let you take away the one item that would guarantee a way back to working for the Erudite?" he stood from his bunk and began to slowly walk towards me.
"Was that before or after I beat the shit out of you?" I sneered standing up to meet him, refusing to shrink away. "I think you are a coward."
"That is where you're wrong. What I've done proves anything but cowardice. Sure, it was solicited by a great deal of self-preservation but I've climbed the ranks, Tris. I'm close to becoming a Dauntless leader now. I don't have to be under the simulation anymore." He flashed me a white smile.
"I shouldn't have saved you in Amity compound," I snarled angrily. "I shouldn't have stopped them from burying a bullet into your traitorous brain." Something seemed to stir within him at my statement and for a second he looked hurt, but the expression was replaced with a smirk. It happened so quickly, it could probably just be a trick of the light.
"We both know you did that out of instinct. It must be a downside of your divergence. You can't control your Abnegation side no matter how much you wish you could." He was inches from my face now, close enough that I could see a mural of blue and gold in his green eyes —obviously too close for comfort. We continued to stare at each other, silently fighting for dominance. I could see his gun pressed to his side, in my peripheral vision and knew this could be my one chance at escaping.
Without breaking eye contact, I lifted my foot back and kicked him in the shin, satisfied when I heard an involuntary groan escape his lips. I twist my body and tried to duck around Peter but my injuries slowed me down. A hand enclosed itself around my neck and I fell backwards on to the bottom bunk I had previously perched on. Peter's grip on my neck did not loosen when my back hit the mattress and he had me trapped under his weight. I was clawing desperately at his hand, trying to pry it from my throat. The edges of my vision starting to fade as my body searched for oxygen. His grip on my neck loosened but the barrel of his gun dug into my temple.
"Careful, stiff. I may be under orders to watch over you, but accidents happen. I may forget to take the safety off, and accidently pull the trigger and fire a bullet into your pretty brain," Peter whispered, his hot breath tickling my ear causing an involuntary shiver to erupt through my body. He was lying. He would never shoot me.
"Then do me a favor and shoot me," I said through gritted teeth. "Jeanine probably wouldn't be very happy, but it seems like you have nothing to lose now."
After an agonizing minute of his crushing weight on my weak body, Peter finally sat up. His gun aimed at my chest. "I'm not working under Jeanine actually. I'm working for Eric. As far Jeanine knows, you were a casualty in the invasion. After all, their orders were to return with two Divergent and kill the rest."
"Why am I here? What would Eric want with me?" I try to create as much space between us on the small bunk.
"That would be confidential. Don't worry; he doesn't need you for very long. Then he will terminate you, as you wish." He pulled a clear syringe out of his pocket and injected it in to my neck before I could escape.
"Sleep tight, Tris." Peter mumbled as my heavy eyelids shut against my will and I succumbed to sleep once more.
