Four knuckles slam into my cheek as I pop back up. My head snaps to the side and I grit my teeth. Yep. A big bruise on my cheek is just what I needed. Thank you, Competitor Whatever-Your-Name-Is.
Gritting my teeth, I face towards him and backhand him on the side of the head. He groans. I dodge his next uppercut and kick him hard in the thigh, knocking him back on his butt. I put my forearm to his neck and then he taps out. Weakling, I immediately think. Even though the rules were recently changed, I still stand by my old philosophy: you fall unconscious or you keep fighting. No exceptions.
The purple-haired referee stalks over to me and sullenly lifts my hand into the air. My guess is that she just lost a bet, probably with the heavily-eyelined girl on the sidelines who is alternating between cheering and making rude gestures at her. I look at the ref and grin. Doesn't winning feel great, Fallen Competitor? Oh wait. You wouldn't know.
I stride out of the stadium into the Pit. A large TV screen outside of the tattoo parlor replays my victory. The cameras caught my smirk of glee at the ref. Wow. Leslie's never going to let me live that one down. Being from Abnegation, she probably has a whole speech already planned about the dangers of pride. She needs to get over it. We are Dauntless now. We have been for six months.
Several people congratulate me on my win as I walk back to the apartments. When I get to the hallway, I slowly check each door. Even though (like I said) we have been here for half a year, sometimes I still forget my room number. Oh yeah. 15b. That's it. I sprint the rest of the way to my door and press my forefinger to the recognition pad on the square knob.
Pushing open the wooden door, I enter my apartment and then slump back against the door. I am so worn out from that fight. Unnamed Competitor put up a very good fight for about 20 minutes, but then he got tired. My guess is that it is hard to carry that ego around full-time.
I pull my shirt up over my head, fling it onto the dresser, and open my closet. I pull out black cargo pants, a red crop top and my favorite boots. As you might be able to tell, it didn't take me long to adjust to Dauntless fashion. I dress, taking longer than usual because Rhode will give me that same look he gives me every time I fight. The ridiculous "I can't believe you chose to do this with your top-notch rank" look. He doesn't understand, which makes sense. He was in last place in the combat stage of our training, where I was in first.
Grabbing a hair tie from my nightstand, I turn off of the lights and close the door, headed for the cafeteria to grab some cake and fries.