*Two weeks later*

I took two more test later that same week out of anxiety, both very early in the morning where even Christina had gone back to sleep after her nightly visits to the bathroom, and like I almost expected: two times positive. How could this happen after a couple of…? I didn't even think about it. Me, Tris Prior, who always overthinks: even stuff that most people don't care for. My erudite side, perhaps? Something still doesn't make any sense. Symptoms are missing, which is also a big part of why I took those other tests. But I'm still late, and there are still two lines…

In the morning, I normally always walk alongside Christina and Will to breakfast, but I am horrified to find out that my alarm-clock has been obviously sabotaged by someone, and from previous experience I know that it can only be Peter, who has so little respect for me and my work. I don't think I have ever gotten dressed so fast, since us dauntless are bound to wear uncomfortable, leather pants. This is also the first time in months, where I've had to show up at the table in Christina's apartment with undone hair and a face cleared from makeup.

"I was thinking about heading over to wake you up," Christina mumbles with the last piece of whole-grain bread in her mouth.

"Then why didn't you?" that comes out angrier than I planned it in my head, and she looks at me like I just said something understandable.

"I had to go and slap Will first. Besides it is 6.40" Slap Will?

"What in the world is going on between you two? It's getting odd," my legs drag me to the nearest chair, then my hands take over and place a piece of bread on the plate.

"Long story, but the short version could sound something like this: he is pissed about the incident with Uriah,"

Last Thursday, Uriah supposedly hit on her in the middle of them being tutored by Eric and Tobias, because Christina wanted to work with next year's transfers, and Uriah was getting shooting-training in the same room. The whole situation sounds much like something Peter could come up with easily, but Tobias says that since he had been guarding the fence for a month straight, maybe it wasn't very possible.

"Wouldn't you be?" The words escape my mouth before I have even run over the possibility of the fact that Will's pissy mood may have caught Christina, and as expected she gives me a short death-glare as I scuff down the last bit of my breakfast.

Before leaving the apartment, I put my hair up in a ponytail so tight that it might give me a headache after a few hours, but I can't train effectively with loose hair flying all over the place. Like every other day, I tell her goodbye looking purposefully towards The Pit.

Every Dauntless, who decides to enter the soldier-training program, has to go through three tough all begins with 8 months of physical training, including fighting, knife-throwing and shooting, which is pretty much just repetition, but at least it's a little harder.

When you finish those months, it's 4 months of war training. I thought that this was going to be like that capture-the-flag game we played during initiation, but no: Real guns, targets, a whole lot of running and strategy.

Then you get a month by the fence with some weird dudes, who practically don't tell you anything relevant, all a waste of time if you ask me.

The last 9 months is a mix of simulations and more physical training. Peter has just finished his month at the fence, so now he's going to be in my face every day, all day again. Hell yeah, I'm looking forward to it…

I had to pinch myself to hold back from laughing, when I saw Peter's reaction to me walking into The Pit (almost) on time.

"Hey Tris! Wanna fight?" Uriah yells from across, and for a moment, it makes me take my eyes off of Peter and his stunned expression.

I shake my head and try to grin at him, but somehow exhaustion has me dreading anything too hard right now, even though I'm completely aware that I have to do it anyway later, since you don't just simply escape a part of training in Dauntless - no sloth allowed under education or anywhere else. That, I have known forever, and sometimes, I wish it wasn't like that - I wish to just forget it all - to live as the Divergent I am and will always be… No matter what.

The first couple hours of training go very well and as expected from my trainer: Zeke. My program is normally challenging, but lately I have gotten used to putting that amount of pressure on myself. Today, my body is not having it: every time I punch or kick the bag, my stomach wrenches in pain, still I keep on pushing myself.

There's nothing to worry about. I haven't thrown up in years.

But within the next fifteen minutes, my balance starts to bother me as I get extremely dizzy to the point, where I have to steady my head, because I can no longer focus. The pain cuts through me again so abruptly that I almost hit the floor.

Punch, pain… Kick, pain…

When the worst nausea I have ever had, begins, I realize that I won't be able to finish the program, and I stop trying to fight the red bag.

"Tris? What's wrong?" Zeke's voice sounds weirdly low despite the fact that he is most likely standing right by me. One of my hands is placed on my stomach, which keeps on wrenching warningly, and the other is covering my mouth. Acid refluxes? You have got to be kidding me.

I can feel Zeke's worry, but I don't get answer him, before I run towards the restrooms…