Disclaimer: All rights of the Divergent series belongs to Veronica Roth. I do not own any of it so on and so forth.
Time is set for during the beginning of Book two the Amity compound, but follows a different path completely From the main storyline.
Darkness filled the room with enough light exposed to bounce off the cracked, grey stone that engulfed the room from ceiling to floor. Each tile was chilling enough to radiate a cold smoke within the cracks. Clanging echoed from wall to wall as a figure struggled to break loose from the chains restraining it to the cold stone wall. A voice slowly began to speak in monotone from deep within the cracks between each wall's connecting corners. "Watch, blood will pour, blood curdling screams will devour the silence and all you will do is stand there and watch the scene play through", the voice spoke with no remorse.
A small beam of sunlight bounced onto the dull, grey stone tiled floor to reveal piercing, deep blue eyes on an unmoved man staring intently in front of him where an older man lay strapped upright to chains pulling at each limb tightly. The older man faintly whispered, "How...Why...?"
Within a few mere seconds the sound of gears grinding against one another filled the room and grew louder with every passing second till their ears rang. The chains began to retract making them pull tighter to each arm and leg as the restrained man spoke up, "please, please, please", over and over again. The man watching remained unmoved keeping his eyes focused directly on the other man's face.
Flesh began the separate between the clavicle and acromion bones of the man's left arm. Through the horrific scene both parties seemed un-phased. Within a few more minutes a rip was created in the right arm of the chained man from the articular capsule bone in the shoulder down to his elbow allowing access to see muscular tissue stretch and blood drip to the floor just to sizzle away into thin air. The few tiles beneath the chaining seemed to radiate the heat of that compared to lava. As soon as another drip of blood reached for the floor screams broke through all noise as a leg was plastered on the opposite wall and two arms dangled from chains now against the ceiling at each corresponding corner. Through his screams the now almost completely limbness man spoke loud and clear, "Son." From the middle of the ceiling emerged an axe freshly sharpened at it's blade that swung directly perpendicular and chopped the man's head clear off from the rest of his body that was still intact as his final words spread with pure hatred through the enclosed room as clear as day, "Rot in He'll." The head rolled straight down the axe to the other man's feet and left his eyes glued to the other's.
Tobias sprang forth upright in bed clutching his chest. He was drenched in Stratford head to toe, shaking from fear of the scene his mind had just provided him with.
"Why did I just stand there and watch? Why did I just stand there and watch? Why did I feel no pain? Do I really hate my father that much?", he thought to himself.
He shook his head, threw his sheets off and walked into his bathroom. He turned the faucet on instructing for cold water to come rushing out as recouped his hands under the stream of water and splashed his face. "Get it together, today is an important day, Tobias", he spoke to himself through the mirror meeting his reflection.