Thank you so much for the response! I'm really glad that other people like the idea of this story. I've made this chapter longer in length as the first chapter I was mostly just testing about. Hopefully they will all result in around about this length. I've adjusted what they say ever so slightly as I don't want to copy speech right out of the book. Still on the same lines just altered!

I'm definitely going to be continuing this story!

Note: I do not own any of these characters or Veronica Roth's Divergent world.

Once I'm out of the room, I walk slowly down a few corridors seeing several Dauntless hanging around the chasm with bottles of drink. I can't get my head around how they can just stand there so confidently when death could be a step away. I head down a corridor that's empty and out of the way to catch the breath I didn't realize I had been holding. I need to collect myself before going and seeing the others in the food hall. I start wiping my hands down my t-shirt, rumpling the material. It's almost as if I was dusting myself off. Dusting off the lasting imprint of Eric. Running my fingers through my hair, I catch a few knots and methodically untangle them as my mother would have done back in Abnegation.

I'm not sure how long I stand against the wall, breathing slowly in and out. I feel my heart beat no longer pounding in my head. The adrenaline is slowly leaving my body, calming down. I must have been gone quite some time for when I finally sit down with some food with Christina, Will and Al, they are practically finished. Christina is picking at some cake on her plate with a fork, mostly shuffling it around on her plate as she looks up at me.

"Where did you get up to?" She questions.

I give her a weak smile at her, "I just decided to go for a walk."

"Pretty long walk."

"Maybe it's just nerves. Being the last to fight when everyone else has already got a try at fighting... well it's not easy," I lie. I definitely would not have suited in Candor, lying comes so easy to me. I've said it before even really thinking over an answer in my head. There is a slight truth to what I am saying. I've already accepted the first time I fight, I am most likely going to end up with a black eye and several gashes in my face.

"Well, if you get Al at least you'll come out on top," Will jokes nudging in to Al's ribs. I hear a grunt and a feign at a laugh come from Al. He wasn't even trying earlier. He's a fool not to.

I mimic Christina's actions, pushing the food around the plate absently mindlessly. I'm not really listening to their conversation just allowing it to be background noise. It's a faint hum of chatter and laughs. I'm sure I heard a snort somewhere. Christina pokes me in the arm, pulling me out of my own world.

"Tris, were you not listening?"

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

"How long have you not been paying attention for?" She stares at me from across the table. I just blink at her a few times, honestly not knowing the time span. "Never mind. I was saying, had you noticed Four staring at you, which clearly you didn't as you're in your own little world."

At this point I lift my head up and look around the mass of tables. Some full, some with a few people sitting on the table itself swinging their legs. I scan the room and finally lock eyes with him across the room. He looks pissed. He continues to stare, his eyes showing one emotion while his mouth is laughing talking with the rest of his group. It's creepy how the two conflicting emotions on his face blend so well. Nobody around him seems to be wary of his stare. I recongise a few faces seated next to him but don't know their names.

"What on earth did you do to warrant that look from him, Tris?"

"I don't know," I lie again. I know full well why I'm getting that look. Four presumes that I was doing something entirely different with Eric than what actually was going on. I really hope that him looking the way he does means I'm not going to be singled out by him too. I'd do self pity and go 'Why me?' but the Abnegation in me would find that to be a self indulgent action. Pity is only self fulfilling, it helps no one. I still feel my former faction bubbling up inside me but the Dauntless wins out. I gulp down the piece of food I just started chewing down. It lodges in my throat, making me cough. I splutter for a few seconds before downing a glass of water.

"Hey Stiff, don't want you to choke to death" Peter comes by slapping me hard on the back. His voice is menacing, laced with a smile for everyone else. I can feel his touch reverberate across my back. If I wasn't already feeling winded, I would be from his slap. In Abnegation it would be seen that he was just trying to help me after I had started to choke. I know differently, Peter just wants any excuse to be able to hit any of us. I cock my head round and give him a glare, rubbing at my throat. I can think of nothing better right now than going back to bed and just laying down for hours on end. My back has had enough of being slammed in to.

My stomach manages to keep the food down for the moment. It feels like I have an empty pit of darkness in there.
Four gets up from his table, strutting over with his arms crossed. The veins in his arms are still prominent.

"If you don't get up now, you're going to be late, initiates," he speaks in a cold tone. For an eighteen year old, both Eric and Four have become emotionless. Is this what Dauntless teaches you? To turn off the humanity to no longer show fear?

We all get up from the table pretty quickly, the noise of scuffling shoes behind him. There is muttering between Peter and his cronies, which I hadn't even noticed were with him. I really am not with it today. The day started out promising and turned into a whole heap of weird. We reach the doors of the room all the initiates bar me had sparred in this morning. Four pushes the door open to reveal punch bags hung on rails. It looks like a slaughter house, all the bags hung, limp and strong at the same time.

Four's voice rings round us all, booming. He's not shouting, he knows how to make his voice carry. This can't be the first time he has been an instructor.
"Being not Dauntless born, most of you are weak. You do not know how to throw a punch properly, how to throw your weight in to it as you do. You have not got enough muscle. I suggest you use your time in here to practice properly. Unless you want to end up in the infirmary tomorrow morning."

Peter surges forward, eager to get the center spot where he can be seen by everyone from any angle. He's too eager for approval, to be the best. I shuffle in, taking a spot at the back next to one of the imitates called Myra. I don't know her well enough to make conversation with her. I look around at my surroundings, Four taking the floor. He looks at us, snapping.

"Aren't you going to get started?!"

At this point, everyone starts throwing their weight poorly in to the punching bag. The sound of skin against leather, the swish of the bags as they swing in the air is totally new to me. I raise my right hand and throw a punch. The bag barely moves. The skin on my knuckles feels like it has split already, they're not bleeding thankfully. The warmth of blood doesn't trickle down my hand.

I'm too involved in trying to use different punching and kicking techniques to notice anything. I feel a presence behind me, looming and full of danger.
I don't have to move around to be able to recognize the person. The smell of him has been imprinted in to my head, sweat and liquor. I've never drunk before, I'm unsure what type it is. My hands yank up the side of my t-shirt that had started to slip off my shoulder, trying to give myself modesty. Maybe there was a bit of Abnegation in me. Maybe it was just I felt... vulnerable? No, that wasn't it. I could stand my own, to the best of my abilities. There was an uneasiness, the dark pit in my stomach was probably due to him.

"C'mon Stiff. I think you can do better than that."

I'm sure I could do better than that if your face was the target. I bite my lip to keep from talking back, tasting the metallic twang of blood fill my mouth. He's trying to provoke me that's all. He's just trying to find an excuse to get rid of me, it's highly possible he doesn't like my father's position. I can't justify his reasons. I could be totally over thinking this.

I take my arm and try to do a hard kick in to the bag. The force I put in to it, my frustration from today makes the bag swing the furthest back it has so far. I bring my arm up to do an upper cut just as it comes back. It makes an impact enough to thrust it back again, the skin on my knuckles feeling like they've split further open. I mutter a curse under my breath as a stinging prickles me. It thuds back in to my stomach. I wasn't prepared for the impact of it and keel over. I feel his breath hot in my ear, he doesn't lend a hand on to me, just hovers his hands above my shoulder, sparking the uneasiness to wash over me again. I flinch away from him and hear a rumble in his chest as he laughs.

"Better. But I still think you could do with some lessons from me."

I keep my position bent over until he's left my side, the begin to straighten my spine out. My mouth feels dry, I try to swallow and taste the after effects of the blood. I grab the bag, holding on to it for a second.
I look around to see both Peter and Edward's punches making the bag thrust backwards so much there is a clang of metal as the clip that supports it bashes against the bars above us. Al looks like he's not even trying, I think he's certainly not enjoying this part of initiation. Didn't anyone tell him life was never going to be easy, especially a Dauntless initiation life?

Four is weaving his way through, giving advice to everyone. He keeps his arms crossed, giving off an even more intimidating presence. He makes his way over to me, level headed with a curious stare. He motions with his hand for me to continue. I turn back to the bag and try to hit in to it enough times, with varying punches to show I'm trying to learn. I kick at it a few times, struggling to get my legs up to get enough momentum. It hurts the muscles in my thighs and calves. The kicks are harder than a punch, my body is not used to any athletic activity.
I need to show that I'm not weak, just because I didn't fight, or couldn't get Eric off me doesn't mean that I'm a little Stiff girl. Once I've stopped, I turn to look at Four. I can still hear the noise of skin, leather and clanking of chains. It seems twice as loud now that Four has made his rounds. His silence is unnerving, it makes all sort of thoughts run through your head. Was I good? Or was I that bad he can't even comment on it?

"You don't have a lot of muscle," his eyes flicker down to my arms, then my legs.

"The best thing you could do, is to use your elbows. They'll use the most force in your body."
He reaches towards me, placing his hand on my stomach. My breath catches at the back of my throat. Not again. His fingers spread out, his thumb and little finger touching the edges of both sides of my ribs. His touch is cold and firm, pressing inwards.

"Here is where you should be focusing your strength from," he speaks in a softer tone now. It still sounds rugged with a bitterness. Is it because of me? I'm sure I'm just being paranoid in this situation.

Four releases his hand from my stomach, wiping it down the side of his trouser a few times. He returns his posture to the straight backed, arms crossed and chin high look he so often wears. For the duration of our training, I try and use the force of my elbow like Four says. He's right in when he says that's where the most force is. It makes tingles go throughout my arm when I hit it just short of my elbow. It feels like a thousand little fuzzy vibrations.

After the training session has finished, in which Four had clapped his hands the once so loud it sounded like thunder colliding in to a tree. I got out of there pretty quickly, purposely wanting to get away from both Four and Eric. Those two had such daunting presences it almost made it hilarious. Dauntless members being daunting. Perfect fit.

I'd decided from this point on that it may be better to stay in a group of people. Then I didn't have any viable option to be alone and approached by any other Dauntless members I'd rather avoid. I'd ask Christina if she was having the same treatment by Eric and Four but that darkened pit in my stomach was telling me to keep my mouth shut.

We were back at the table that we seemed to have assigned as ours - how long that was going to last I didn't know - in the food hall. The boys all were shoveling food in to their mouths. Will's pile of food was going to go from being a mountain of food to an avalanche of food any minute. Christina had been staring at him the entire time, with her mouth puckered in to the shape of an O. Her eyebrows were raised, looking at him in amazement. He grins at her through a mouth of food, causing her to shake her head laughing at him. It's wonderful to hear their laughs.

Al even joins in, it's amazing how he doesn't have any resentment towards Will for beating him up this morning. You have to get over that kind of thing quickly here, the atmosphere would be totally different if everyone were fuming and raging because someone had punched them in the face. All hell would break loose on every turn of the clock.

"Tris."

And all hell breaks loose again. I feel my body tense up, just as it had eased up for the day. Al, Will and Christina's laughs cut short and give me the look of pure fear.

Sweat and liquor. The liquor taking more of a highlight.

I weave out of my chair, letting the cutlery clang against the plate. It seems like the noise is amplified, following a silence that feels deafening. Except it isn't quiet, we are in a room that is full of noise with Dauntless members being sociable after their shifts have ended.
I'm standing, back straight with my chin up.

"In my office, now," he spits at me. His hands curl around my upper arm roughly. His grip is tight, pulling me by my shoulder. If I don't move with him, my arm is going to dislocate by the force he's pulling me at. Christina's eyes are looking wild at me, mouthing "What's happening?" And all I can do is shake my head. I don't know what is going on.

I'm practically being dragged through the hall, catching people's faces turning to see the scene that is playing out in front of their eyes. I see in my peripheral vision Four start to get up from his table, eyes flaring. Another Dauntless sits next to him, slapping him on the shoulder pulling him back down in his seat. My face creases up, brow furrowing at him. Eric pushes the door open, smacking my opposite shoulder in to the door frame. I grunt with pain as it shoots up my arm, like a trail of fire licking it's way around my shoulder blades.

"Let me go!" I dig the heels of my feet in to the ground of the Pit trying to wrench my arm away from his grip. I earn a few more stares, none of them seem to show suspicion or surprise. Did this happen all the time to initiates that it was considered normal? Am I the runt of the litter that the other initiates learn through as to what not to do?

Eric stops dead next to me, turning his face slowly. He's much taller than me, so has to look down. His eyes are boring in to mine with the same fire that's still making it's mark on my body.

"Don't make this worse for yourself, Tris."

That's all he says. In a tone that is so harsh and cold, it feels like a bad winter that kills everything off. He pulling at me again, the socket of my shoulder screaming at me to move. I allow him to drag me, not making it easy for him. I stumble a few times but am stubborn enough to not give in. A test of endurance.

Eric pulls me in to a room just off where we first jumped. He releases me to only shove me inside, slamming the door behind him. I stumble forwards, catching myself on the desk with outstretched arms. Once I regain balance I twist round, leaning for support against the desk.

His office is filled with filing cabinets, a simple desk with a computer siting upon it. A blackboard hangs behind it, with initiates names scrawled in chalk.

I hear the sound of a lock clicking and have an even higher pitch of alarm bubble inside my chest. I feel like a creature trapped inside a cage that at any moment is going to be slaughtered. Maybe I'll be hung tomorrow by those bars with punch bags.
Eric lets out a deep puff of air, adjusting his stance so he can face me.

"What have I done?" I intend for my voice to come out strong but it rises to just barely audible. Eric's face looks contorted, patches of red spotting across his face.

"Sit."

I don't object. If I thought he was scary earlier, I was underestimating his character and how scary he could really be. A mouse then compared to the raging beast now. I plop myself in to a hard backed chair, the stuffing compressing under my weight, bubbling out causing an uneven appearance. My hands clutch the wood at the edge of the seat. The arms of the chair feel like they are encasing me in to a trap whilst black spots dot across my vision.

Eric's movements are slow but calculating. His hands wrap around the arms, lowering his head to meet mine. It's so close the hot breath returns. It's slow, making fair pieces of hair tickle against my skin when he exhales.

"Look at me."

My eyes flash to his, the fire has not died down. My body is trembling so badly I clutch harder to the wood. My knuckles go white, stinging as the cuts stretch.

"What have I done?"

"I'm asking the questions."

"Ask them then!" I spit at him. The surge of confidence has hit me out of the blue, adrenaline returning. Fight or flight.

It's fight.

"You do know Four has no authority around here." He's not asking, he's telling.

"What has he got to do with this?"

Eric's reply comes in a cruel laugh until it dies out. He cocks his head to the side, observing me. I feel the intense scrutiny and raise him a glare, locking my jaw.

"If you think he has any power, any say in anything, he doesn't. I do. I can do whatever I choose... or want."

"I still have no idea what you're blabbering on about." Careful Tris. I'm talking back too much. I'm going through the motions of confidence and an animal trembling. My legs feel weak.

I feel the rush of air as his right hand lets go of the arm of the chair, locking his fingers under my chin. He jerks it up so violently that the gulp that goes down my throat feels like a jagged rock.

"Are you scared of me Tris?"

I break eye contact with him, choosing to stare at a point in the wall just behind his head. I can see an out of focus smile creep across his face. Except this isn't something that makes you want to smile in return. It makes you want to shower for a week to try and rid yourself of it.

"That's exactly what I thought."

We stay there in silence, time whistling by. His fingers stay locked under my chin, his intense stare on my face scanning all the features of my face. My endurance didn't last long with keeping my eyes locked somewhere else. My eyes close, wishing to be somewhere, anywhere else.

My senses are now compensating for my eyes being closed. I only feel the release of his fingers from beneath my chin, his fingertips skimming the side of my face. His fingers gently tuck a piece of strand of hair behind my ear. I suck in air between my teeth as the presence of his lips hover next to the ear where his fingers still linger.

"I know exactly what I'm going to do with you."

Hope you all enjoyed it! I shall try and update asap.
Would love to hear all your thoughts again. :)