How I fell asleep last night after being told what Eric pulled after I brought Will to the infirmary is beyond me. But as the cool air of the dimly lit hallway brushes against my face, I feel refreshed, suffocated with less uneasiness than usual. I tell myself that Eric purged the crazy out of his system, temporarily.
Or at least, I wasn't dreading the day as much a moment ago. Now, as I enter the training room, my stomach plummets. Eric is scrawling names on the chalkboard and just as he turns to face me, my eyes catch the last one. Tris. He has matched Tris with Peter.
"Four," Eric nods, scrutinizing my face, searching for weaknesses. Searching for a sign I care about one of them, about her. I won't give him the pleasure.
"Eric," I reply back, crossing the room and holding his gaze all the while. I stand with my back against the wall, thumbs looped in my belt holes, watching the transfers trickle in. Well, not really watching. I stare blankly and contemplate how badly Tris is about to get injured. Waves start to surge and swell in my stomach. Knowing that there is no way to help her with Eric in charge makes me long for Abnegation all the more.
I immediately lock my eyes on Tris as she enters, but her eyes are wide and transfixed on the board; her face contorts in fear. A pink hue rises to her cheeks, and she tries to hide it by covering her face with her small, delicate fingers. Fingers that are about to be bruised, about to be bloodied; and I am allowing this.
I regret having eaten breakfast, and focus on not focusing, on drowning out the sounds around me until the fight between Molly and Edward is over. Tris bravely steps into the center of the arena and I cringe. Peter towers over her slight frame and it is all I can do to not interject, so I cross the room toward the door, fold my arms, and purse my lips to keep from doing something idiotic.
Unfortunately, Eric crosses the room as well, as though to monitor my reactions, monitor my heartbeat that I am sure he can hear. Peter is taunting her, and I notice Tris's expression change. Instead of the fearful eyes she entered the room with, there is a glint of anger and before I can even register it, she attempts to kick his side. I wonder if she is thinking of the advice I had offered her yesterday and then stupidly will away the thought.
The fight drags on, and the food in my stomach continues to rise. Anger is seeping through my veins, coursing, pounding at the same speed as my hammering heart. Tris feebly attempts to stand as Peter grabs her by the ear and pounds her skull into the ground. And I. Can't. Take it. I shove the door open and hear it slam against the opposite wall as I storm out. I could care less what Eric thinks. How can I live with myself watching Tris, forcing Tris to fight someone far beyond what her strength level will ever be? I head straight for the bathroom, blindly find a stall, and my breakfast floods up. I wretch until there is nothing left. My eyes water and I pound my fist against the door.
That's when I hear a high-pitched screeching noise and I instinctively bolt. I run back into the training room to find Tris unconscious in a pool of her blood. It is all I can do to not hurl Peter across the room, beat the smugness off of Eric's face. "Enough!" The word echoes through the room, deep and angry. The voice is mine.