"Tobias, your test results are in," Tori said.
He hadn't been paying attention. He was so nervous to see what faction he belonged in. He was staring down at his feet, but when she said that, he immediately looked up.
"Well? Which faction did I get?" he asked.
"Tobias… it's… it's not a faction. You're… Divergent."
"Divergent? What does that mean?" Tobias asked.
"Shh! Don't talk so loud. We can't let anybody find out. Being divergent means that you're… different. You think for yourself. You aren't one faction over the others. Technically, you got Abnegation. But your results make you divergent. You cannot reveal that to anybody. Not your family, not your friends." Tobias said thank you and left. He was still confused, but decided that it wasn't worth it to question Tori more than he already had. As he walked home, it started to rain. He let the cool, crisp drops roll down his face. He stopped walking and just stood there in the refreshing rain and it felt great. It was slowly washing away all of the worries he had about being divergent, whatever that meant. He had his eyes closed as he tilted his head back to feel the cool water on his face. He opened his eyes and flipped his shaggy hair to get it out of his face. He started walking again.
"Tobias!" a voice said. He turned around to see who it was. He thought he recognized the voice.
"Sam," he said. She was an old friend. They'd known each other since they were only five. She wasn't traditionally pretty, but she was pretty in her own way. She had long, curly brown hair and grey eyes. She was curvy, but not overweight, and she was tall. She was wearing the typical grey Abnegation clothes. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him.
"Have you taken the aptitude test?" she asked.
"Yeah. You?"
"Well," she responded, "I took it yesterday but I'm not sure if I want to go with my results. I got Dauntless but somehow that doesn't seem right. I thought for sure I'd be Erudite."
"Oh," he said. "I got Abnegation." They conversed for a few more minutes, and then went their separate ways. He went inside, ate dinner with his family, and went up to his room to think.
Tobias woke up. It was 10:00. He had fallen asleep. He heard snoring from his parents' bedroom. He thought he was safe. He decided he should change out of his day clothes and get ready for bed. He pulled his shirt over his head. He felt the cold air on his skin. He shivered. He unbuttoned his pants and started to unzip them, but got distracted when he heard footsteps. He froze. He knew what that sound meant. And he wished he didnt.
The door opened. Tobias' eyes started to water. He was breathing fast. It was happening again.
"Tobias, come with me," he said. It was Tobias' father. He was holding a long, black belt. He left the room and pulled down the ladder that led to the closet. He started climbing the ladder. Tobias followed his father. He was shaking as he ascended the ladder up to the attic.
The attic was musty. There was old furniture everywhere, and everything was the same shade of chalky grey. In Abnegation, everything was grey. There was a fine layer of dust covering everything. There was very little light in the tiny space. The tiny bit of light that was present was from a small, dirty window that overlooked the family's pristine front yard. The corner of the room was the only clean part of the entire room. It reeked of bleach. From a distance, it looked clean and neat. Up close, however, there were clear blood stains on the floor. Someone had obviously tried to wash it away with bleach, but the blood wouldn't wash away.
Tobias backed slowly into his corner. He was facing his father as he stood there shaking. His bare torso was covered in goosebumps. He cowered in his corner.
"Tobias, your selection is tomorrow. Which faction are you choosing?" the man with the belt asked.
"I… I… um… Abnegation," Tobias stuttered. He was shaking so hard that he couldn't even speak.
"Good, good. Just making sure. But, just in case you get any ideas, I must condition you."
Conditioning. Normally the word was used in the context of training, or perhaps learning something new. In this context, it meant something entirely different.
"Turn around, Tobias. This is for your own good," Marcus whispered. The 16-year-old boy turned around, exposing his back. He knelt down and lowered his head. Unbenounced to his father, a single tear slid down his face. Then another. And another. He was anxiously awaiting what he knew was going to happen.
The man with the belt raised his hand. He hesitated, seeing his son cowering in front of him, but decided that he had to continue. The belt cracked loudly as it came down on the boy's bare back. Tobias screamed in pain as the belt sliced his skin. The scars on his back stood out as the blood ran over them. Crack! Once again the belt whipped Tobias' skin. He cried harder as he moaned in pain. The cuts were deep. Marcus was using all of his strength to abuse his son. The belt kept coming, digging gashes that practically scraped bone. Tobias screamed louder as the pain got more and more intense.
"Please," he sobbed. "Please, please stop. Please." The begging was useless. The whip continued to shred his skin. Tobias felt the warm, sticky blood drip down his back and onto his pants. It was pouring down his skin, and eventually it was pooling in and around his grey sneakers. The whipping finally stopped.
"I hope that reassured your decision," Marcus said, "because if you ever leave this faction, you will regret it."