A/N: I'm new to the Divergent fandom! Hello! Just so everyone knows, I have not read either Insurgent or Allegiant. That being said, any errors I've made I apologise for. I will fix them if pointed out to me. Thanks!

Chapter One (Judith)

I've been bed ridden for as long as I can remember. I've been poked and prodded like a human sized pin cushion. My legs have been moved and exercised every day, twice a day, to avoid bed sores. My nurses are nice, I'll give them that, but, my body laying down is foreign, benign. I feel like I should be running, jumping, athletic. That's what I should be, athletic. I feel it in my legs sometimes. Pin prickles of longing spreading throughout my toes and feet and skin. Adora says I'm getting my feeling back. Johanna says I'm trying to remember.

Remember what, I always ask her. She never really answers me. I find it irritates me. Perhaps it's because these memories I have are not my own. They belong to someone else, someone I don't know. They belong to a girl who's seen war and violence. They belong to a girl who's fought an empire. I'm not that girl. I know I can't be. I'm a nobody. I'm held together by damaged sinew and torn ligaments and scarred skin. I've not seen war. All I've seen are fields and trees and pretty people clad in red and yellow.

They tell me I live on the outskirts of what was once Chicago. They tell me I live in a farming community that used to call themselves Amity. It was a faction once. One of five that used to govern the population but now everyone is factionless and the fences that once kept us in are no longer guarded. We are free to roam as we choose, free to live how we want. We can all be selfless, kind, honest, smart and brave. A long time ago, people who were all these things were called Divergent. It was a horrible name. Now, we are all divergent. Some of the nurses say we are better for it. Others still disagree. Those people, they say, were in the Erudite faction which favored knowledge above all else. That name stings and makes my stomach turn but I don't know why.

It's all this that plagues me in the hours of the morning before the nurses stir. Factions and names and words I don't understand but leave me with a sour taste in my mouth like I'm forcing down the bile of a history that has been rewritten but not digested fully. The longer I dwell on it, the more it gets muddled. Thankfully, today's musings have been interrupted by a lovely little girl named Maggie, dressed in black and white—a former Candor-born citizen—who decides that my fingernails should be painted a bright green color. I appreciate her choice and her company as her blunt conversations keep my mind occupied for the time being. If my mind is occupied, I won't be tempted to remember.

She calls me Auntie. No name, just 'Auntie'. I don't mind. Perhaps I took care of her before my mind became a wasteland. Maybe I didn't. Either way, half the names the people call me don't ring a bell. They could mean anything. The one name that seems to have stuck is Judith. It's an Abnegation name but I don't mind it. Some of the people who come to talk to me, who aren't my nurses, say I was in Abnegation before the war which meant I was selfless. That doesn't give me much information and I wish it did. In fact, all it does is create more questions. Like I need any more questions.

The bitterness of my thoughts is stopped by a tiny hand on mine.

"All done, Auntie." I forgot she was even there. Leave it to little Maggie.

"Well, then, let me see." I hold up my hand to my face and feel a smile spreading across my lips. That seems foreign also. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

Her little face scrunches up in thought and then her hands grab my left one. "This one isn't as pretty as the other one."

"I don't mind," I say, still smiling.

Her face is still scrunched up, scrutinizing my hand, when Adora, my Erudite-born nurse, comes bustling in for my medicine and my exercises. As a result, Maggie scurries off to do her daily chores with her mother and father. Everyone has a place here.

Except for me. I feel worthless.

Adora is stocky brunette woman with a fierce face and an upturned nose and beady brown eyes. She'd almost be pretty if it weren't for the lines around her mouth and eyes and her gruff attitude. Most other nurses talk about her behind her back but I like how straightforward she is. She doesn't take my shit when I'm having a bad day. She tells me to buck it up and act like a woman not some pansy. I'd like to see her be injured. I bet she'd cause all her caretakers to quit right then and there. Then again, that's probably why she's been tasked with me. According to a few rumblings around the hospital, I can be quite the little hellion. At least, that's what I've heard. I don't quite believe it. How could I be a hellion in a hospital bed? I suppose anything is possible in this world.

Adora is rough with me today as we work. She hardly talks. Usually she speaks to me about the weather or how the other nurses are doing. She trains a few of them sometimes but, today, she is silent. It unnerves me. I feel like I've done something wrong but I don't think I have. I've been nice. I haven't caused a ruckus. Not that I remember if I have or not. Things still remain fuzzy most of the time.

After an hour of taking a beating from the woman, I hold up my hands and demand that she stop. She hears me but doesn't listen to me and she keeps going. I finally scream at her and she pulls back, hands shaking as she steps away from my bed. I've never seen her hands do that. They're usually steady. Calm, just like she is. I don't admit it but the shaking scares me.

"I'm sorry Judith. I- I don't-" She stumbles over her words and I reach out to try to calm her but she pulls further back.

"Adora, tell me what's wrong."

But she does not. It's almost as if she cannot. Like the thought of whatever is going to happen is more dire than death itself. I find that hard to believe. Nothing is worse than death. According to Adora, I have tasted that emptiness before. Again, I can't remember.

"Adora," I try again, this time, I keep my voice soft, like I'm speaking to a wounded animal. "What is going on?"

"The Council is coming here soon."

The Council is our governing body. While we all live in a peaceful society, the purpose of the Council is to regulate laws and our police force. The Council isn't typically feared. I feel like Adora is hiding something but I don't utter a word of it.

"Is that a problem?"

"This time, yes."

I eye her suspiciously but she says no more as she hurries out. I think about calling for Johanna but then I remember that she is out for official business. She is part of the Council and was once a spokesperson for the Amity faction. She will be gone until they show up. That leaves Peter.

In many ways, Peter is like me. Two years ago, he lost his memory and he'll never recover it. No one tells him that, though and it doesn't seem to bother him. I don't tell him that I see snippets of my former life. For some reason, that terrifies me. He is not violent but I can see the potential in him. Johanna told me he was once a member of Amity. I don't believe her.

Perhaps that's why I'm so hesitant about talking to him. He may be an indirect member of the Council but that doesn't mean I trust him. However, it's a catch-22 because I trust Johanna. Why would she lie to me about someone as damaged as I am? More questions with not enough answers and I'm suddenly so frustrated, I ask for Peter anyway. Maybe he can tell me why Adora is scared of the Council. Maybe he can't. It's worth a try, though. Anything is worth a try. If it makes sense of my raging mind, so be it.

But, then again, do I want my mind to make sense? I suppose it's a risk I have to take.

I like taking risks.