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Beep. Beep. Beep. I wake to the noise of a machine that's tracking my vitals. The lines that are displayed on the little pixelated screen next to the bed look normal. My eyes take in my surroundings, confused. I'm in a hospital bed surrounded by a white curtain hanging from a silver bar that makes an arc around the bed. A thin blanket covers my body, still in the red Amity dress. I sit up, a small moan escaping my lips as my body protests. I'm sore all over from Ashton's slaps and presses and fingers. A small tug on my elbow with my movement makes me notice the IV in my arm. The tube leads to a bag full of clear liquid and I wonder what they're pumping into me.
A girl with a streak of green in her brown hair pulls back the curtain and steps into my little white space.
"How are you feeling?" she steps towards the machine, recording its numbers on her clipboard.
"I've felt worse," I run a hand through my tangled hair. A slight panic fills me before I realize that Ashton isn't here to dictate my appearance. The thought sends a thrill through me. "What happened?"
"You passed out. Caused quite the scene," she glances at me with a smile, "It was probably caused by malnutrition. When was the last time you ate?" I look down at my hands in my lap.
"Last night," I remember the banana I had at dinner. If I tell her it was only a banana, she'll want to know why. And I don't want to talk about it.
"Mm-hm. And what did you eat?" she turns to look at me straight on, crossing her arms. Of course she had to ask.
"A banana," I curse my Candor for forcing me to tell the truth.
"And would I be correct in saying that that was all you ate yesterday?" And the day before that. I nod, not meeting her eyes. "Why weren't you eating?" I don't respond. She sighs, sitting down on the bed next to me. "If you need help with an eating disorder, I can help you. Or find someone to help you, if you'd rather."
"I don't have an eating disorder," I meet her eyes finally.
"Don't want to talk about it?" she wipes the tears from my cheeks. I nod. "Ok. But if you need anything, come talk to me."
"Thank you," I half smile, genuinely grateful for her care. It's been so long since I've felt any.
"I'm Wilder, by the way. It's almost dinner time, do you think you'll be ok to go?"
"Probably." And food does sound good. Really good. Whatever they're pumping into me seems to have given me enough energy to be awake, but I'm still ravenous.
"Good. Makes my life easier, I won't have to haul food up for you," Wilder takes my temperature. I snort. Happiness feels good.
Wilder and I weave through the constantly moving mass of black that occupies the cafeteria. The energy is invigorating, free. If I wasn't so embarrassed by the stares that come my way when people recognize me as the girl who fainted, I might smile. But I just keep my eyes on Wilder's back, trying to ignore the gossip that surrounds me. Seeming to sense my unease, she reaches back and takes my hand, pulling me closer to the buffet. I release my breath with a sigh at the long stretch of food in front of me. I feel like I could eat it all.
Wilder hands me a plate, and I fill it with mashed potatoes, green beans, and some sort of bean patty. They all look good, though I honestly don't remember what tastes good. Food has been mostly about survival for the past few years. Wilder leads me to an empty table in the corner, where it is a little quieter. Driven by instinct and an intense hunger, I start shoveling food into my mouth.
"Take it slow, you don't want to get sick," Wilder warns. I nod, but keep eating. It feels so good to be able to eat without restraint.
"You look like you haven't eaten for weeks, Amity," a deep voice observes from behind me. I freeze, and turn to see the man from the roof. Behind him is the one who helped me from the net and took my name. "Wilder," the leader nods at her.
"Eric," she nods in return. Eric. The short, clipped name seems just right for his dominating aura.
"We'll have to take you from your dinner, Scarlett. You missed the tour with your little episode and we need to get you settled before curfew," the man who was at the net steps forward.
"Can't I finish eating?" my heart sinks at the thought of having to give up this food I have finally gotten my hands on. I shove another forkful of potatoes into my mouth, hoping it won't be my last. I don't want it to be taken away from me again so soon.
"Sure-" he starts to reply, before Eric cuts him off.
"No. We need to get this done. And I don't have all day to wait around for you just because you're weak."
"Eric!" Wilder stands, slamming her hands on the table. "She hasn't eaten anything but a banana for the last 24 hours at least. She needs to eat something! She passed out because she wasn't being fed!" I look at Wilder in surprise, but am glad for her defense. It allows me to get in another bite of my dinner.
"Fine," Eric slams his solid body onto the bench next to me, making the whole thing jolt. "But you better be fast," he glares. The other man walks around the table to sit next to Wilder.
"Take your time, it's fine," he says, and Eric turns his glare on him. "I'm Four." I nod in recognition, my mouth too full to answer. A couple more minutes past in silence. I savor the full meal in front of me, but my stomach aches when I finished. Maybe I should have listened to Wilder and not eaten so much so fast. Eric pushes my plate towards Wilder, indicating for her to clean it up, before pulling me out of my chair. I stumble after him and Four, having to half jog to keep up with their long strides. My hopes for a peaceful dinner and night are blown to the wind.
"And finally, this is the dormitory," Eric gestures to a plain black door, which Four pulls open. They'd given me a quick tour of the compound, including only the Pit, the Chasm, and the training room, explaining the ranking system along the way. I didn't pay much attention to their words, distracted by the activity of the Dauntless and the pain in my shocked stomach. It hasn't had this much to digest for a long, long time.
Eric snaps his fingers in front of my face, calling me back to the present.
"Come on, Amity, pay attention," he leads me into the dormitory. The room is lit by harsh fluorescents set into the dark grey ceiling. Black iron beds line the walls and form a line down the middle of the room. Some of them are already made, covered in black blankets. "Transfers and Dauntless born have separate dormitories, so there will only be the nine of you in here. The bathroom is co-ed as well." I swallow, wishing there was more privacy than the stall-less toilets. I'll have to be really careful for the next couple days before my bruises fade. "Bedding is in the drawer under the bed, and you can find clothes in the bins over there," he points. "Training starts at eight in the morning and goes to six, with a break for lunch. After training you will have free time, with which you can do whatever you want. Four will be your main instructor, but I'm overseeing initiation this year, so I will be there sometimes." Great, I get to see him more. My stomach starts to turn, and I struggle to keep my face impassive.
"Thank-" I start to thank him, but then bile is racing up my throat, and I can't stop it. My stomach empties it's contents right onto Eric's pristine black combat boots. I cough, trying to rid my mouth of the nasty taste.
It isn't until Four starts laughing that I realize what just happened.
"I-" But my stomach finds something else in it's roiling depths, and it joins my dinner on Eric's feet. I look up at him, terrified. His face is red and he stands stock-still. His hands start to tremble, and his complexion takes on a purplish hue. "I'm so sorry," I stammer out, unsure of what to do. Four is still laughing, and hands me a towel. I wipe my face off, staring at the mess on Eric's feet.
"Guess you should clean that up," Four gets out between laughs. I bend down and dab at the mess with the towel, wrinkling my nose.
"Forget it," Eric laces his fingers in my hair and yanks me away. I look up at him, and suddenly realize what a compromising position I'm in. His fingers tighten as I try to pull away. Four has stopped laughing and watches the exchange with interest. With a final yank of my hair, Eric releases me and I scramble to my feet and away from him. "Afraid are we, Amity?" he smirks.
"Leave her alone, Eric," Four sighs, running a hand through his hair, his amusement gone. Eric glares at him, but turns and stomps from the room, leaving a trail of smelly footprints. "Clean this up and then change. And try not to do anything else to piss of Eric, okay? He's not someone who's bad side you want to be on." I nod, not trusting myself to speak. "Well, see you tomorrow," Four leaves, glancing back at my shaking frame once. I sigh, and bend over to clean the floor.
I'm wiping the last of the vomit off the floor when the first initiates return from dinner. They're laughing and playfully pushing each other into the walls. I straighten up and toss the wet towel into the can by the door that contains everyone's old clothes.
"Hey, she's alive," one of the boys comments, turning their attention to me. I nod at them, but turn away to find myself one of the training uniforms. There are two bins, one labeled boys, the other girls. I pull a package out of the girls bin, noting that the boys is almost empty and the girls is full apart from the package I just took.
"What happened?" another boy asks me, plopping down on what is presumably his bunk.
"I passed out," I avoid his gaze, and place my pack of clothes down on the floor by a bunk in the corner, then pull the blankets from the drawer. I'll make my bed now, and hopefully they'll leave so I can change.
"Why?" he asks me. He was obviously an Erudite.
"I don't really want to talk about it," I focus on the black sheets in my hands.
"Whatever," he shrugs, turning away. I sigh in relief, and finish making the bed. Other initiates start filing into the room, and I realize with a sinking heart that every single one of them is a boy. I'm the only girl. A glance at the clock tells me it wouldn't be a ridiculous time to go to bed, and I just don't want to deal with any of this right now. I shove the unopened packet of clothes into the drawer that contained my sheets and slide onto my bunk, still in my red dress. Despite the noise in the dorm, I'm instantly asleep.
I wake in the middle of the night to the lights flashing on, my body covered in sweat and my throat raw. Two boys sit on the bunk next to mine, staring at me with their brows furrowed. Everyone is sitting up in bed, awake and not happy about it.
"Who's Ashton?" one of the boys next to me asks. His hair is a dirty blonde, and flops over concerned grey eyes.
"N-no one," my voice is shaky.
"You were telling him to stop and screaming in your sleep. He can't be no one," the other boy retorts, his brown eyes piercing into me.
"I'm sorry for waking you all up, but really its nothing. Just go back to bed." I just want to go back to bed, and they don't need to know about my struggles. They'll think I'm even weaker than they already do. A couple boys roll over and lay back down. Someone turns out the lights.
"Are you sure you're ok?" the blonde stares at me, forcing me to make eye contact.
"Positive," I try to give him a convincing smile, and the look on his face tells me that I succeeded. The blonde and brown-eyed boys return their bunks, and I lay back, staring at the ceiling. I toss and I turn, but I can't get back to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, Ashton appears behind my lids, jerking me awake again. I jam my palms into my eyes, as tears start to creep out. I haven't escaped him.