Chapter 3

Hi! Thanks guys for the really awesome reviews and thanks to everyone who added this story to their Story Alerts and Favorites lists. This chapter is for you! Also I'm sorry about the slow update, I was to busy reading INSURGENT! It was like SOOO good, lol.

I woke with a scream dead on my lips. My pillow was wet, as was my face. I had been crying in my sleep. I shook slightly. Why did I have that dream? What does it mean?

I did know one thing. Even if id left my father, he will always haunt me in my nightmares, and in my fear stimulations.

I'm going to kill him. I clench my fists.

I knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep, so I got up, walking to my small bathroom to splash some water on my face, which didn't really help. Then I got a glass of the stuff. I drunk it so fast that I choked, but I could care less. I sat back on my bed, leaning my head against the headboard.

I told myself that is was just a dream. A flashback. It had happened before but I'll be damned if it happens again. My father wasn't going to come running through the door with a whip. If he did, I'd take the gun that is hidden under my mattress, and unlike in the simulation, I wouldn't hesitate to kill him.

Even with that reassurance, I doubted that I'd get back to sleep, so I stared at the words written in black ink on my otherwise white walls.

Fear God Alone.

Tori had once helped me stencil them on the walls before id even moved in.

The word meant a lot to me.

You shouldn't have to fear something or someone without as much power as God.

And that's the truth.

I pondered this in my head, reading the words over and over again, until my vision blurred and my eyes felt heavy.

I drift to sleep once again.

LINE BREAK

"The first thing that you will learn today is how to shoot a gun. The second thing is how to win a fight." I press a gun into each of the initiates' hands. "Thankfully if you are here, you should already know how to get on and off a moving train, so I don't have to teach you that."

We Dauntless expect for our initiates to hit the ground running. I plan on teaching them the way my instructor, Amar, had taught me. I quickly explain how initiation works.

"We believe that preparation eradicates cowardice, which we define as the failure to act in the midst of fear." I say. "Therefore, each stage of initiation is intended to prepare you in a different way. The first stage is primarily physical, the second, primarily emotional, the third primarily mental."

Peter speaks up. "But what…" he yawns through his words. "What does firing a gun have to do with bravery?"

I immediately dislike him.

I flip the gun in my hand, press the barrel to Peter's forehead, and click a bullet into place. Peter pauses mid yawn.

"Wake. Up." I snap. "You are holding a loaded gun you idiot. Act like it." I reluctantly lower my gun. I feel that someday I will regret not pulling the trigger.

Peter's green eyes harden. He won't try anything though.

"And to answer your question…you are far less likely to soil your pants and cry for your mother if your prepared to defend yourself." I turn on my heel and walk to the other end of the aisle.

"This is also information you may need later in Stage One. So watch me. I face the wall with the targets and stand in the proper shooting stance that I was taught.

I pull the trigger.

Like usual, it goes straight through the middle.

But that doesn't make it any easier.

LINE BREAK

After a short lunch that I spent thinking in 'my plsce' in the chasm; I lead the initiates to the traing room. I demonstrate how punches and kicks first in the air then against the punching bags. The initiates catch on as the clock ticks by.

All around me is the sound of skin hitting tough fabric

I wander through the group of initiates, watching and helping out as they need it.

I stop at Tris. I look at her form, assessing what she is capable of.

"You don't have much muscle." I say, trying not to sound mean. "Which means you're better off using your knees and elbows. You can put more power behind them."

Suddenly I get the urge to touch Tris. So on impulse, I do.

I press my hand to her stomach. Tris is either so small or my hand is so big that I am touching both sides of her rib cage. We lock eyes. I need a reason for touching her so I say, "Never forget to keep the tension here." I say in a small voice. Soon it will be time to dismiss the initiates for the day, so I reluctantly leave Tris.