When I was younger, my grandfather was my hold on sanity. He did this more effectively than anything or anyone else. Ironically enough, he was legally insane. And, being Candor, we never failed to tell him so. Ever.

The glory of being a part of the Candor faction - no lying, no tact, no withholding.

It was nice, I suppose. It's hard to think that way now. But when I was younger, I was sure I would stay in Candor. I felt comfortable in the black jeans and white flannel shirt I wore everyday. It felt right to know what everybody thought of me. And it was a freedom, of sorts, to be able to tell others everything that came to my mind.

But when I turned seven, my sanity lifeline died. His mind stop controlling his involuntary actions, and so his heart stopped beating, his lungs stopped breathing, and his body stopped working. They said he died in seconds.

My parents cried; I locked myself in my room for a week. My bed clothes got soaked with blood from the cuts I made on my arms.

If I were being honest about it, I would say that I, in fact, did not cut myself because of sentimental reasons. And since I'm Candor, that's what I should've told people. I should've told them that the real reason I cut myself that week was because it was the beginning.

The beginning of something that had always been there, but never really shown. The beginning of something terrible. The beginning of me. The real Peter Hayes.

But I couldn't say that. I was insane in a subtle way. And without my grandfather, I had no one to remind me why I had to keep fighting it. No one was there to show me why I couldn't let myself slip. And so I gave in. And I suppose that in a way, that's when I started to care about things - caring about how to get through life, and how I could come out where I wanted to be - the top.

It was when I was seven, too, that I learned that the very thing that held our faction together was the very thing that made it gullible. And I could use that to my advantage.

That's when I started lying. I planned it all out, like an Erudite - figuring out how I would have to look and act to be convincing.

Our parents teach us all what small signs a person will show when they're lying. It's a major part of growing up in Candor. And what better way to learn to become the perfect liar than to study all the signs that give you away?

I started lying about small things. Like about my cut up arms, and my false grief. But over time, my lies got bigger - about worse things. I lied about my homework a few times, I lied about whether I stole a jacket from some classmate in school. I lied about whether I tripped kids, or got into fights. I lied, and lied, and lied. Just one, big, long, string of lies.

By the time I was thirteen, my lying was faultless, and of course everyone believed me anyway because I was Candor. Ha. Idiots.

There were only two people that knew about my lying - Molly and Drew. But I lied to them too. It's easy with them. I don't even have to try to look normal when I lie, because they're two of the world's biggest idiots.

We all had something in common though - we hurt things.

But they were different. They didn't hurt humans. Not really. Molly liked to torture animals, and Drew was always there to laugh at people's trips and fall, in his weird silent way, but they weren't like me.

No. No one was really like me. Except maybe my grandfather. He seemed to have a bit of the same urge that I have. But he was 6 years long gone, and I had something else to worry about: The Choosing Ceremony when I turned sixteen.

I knew I would never join Amity or Abnegation. I am not friendly or kind. I laugh at people's faults and envy their successes. I am not selfless. I hurt people; I don't help them.

And I knew I couldn't join Candor because I would have to tell all my secrets. And I could never do that.

That left me with Erudite and Dauntless.

Intelligence and Bravery.