I woke with a start early in the morning. He was in my dreams. No, my nightmares. I sigh and scratch my head. I may have escaped my father in reality, but he can still haunt me in my sleep. I have a bit of time before I need to be in the training room with the initiates at eight fifteen, so now is a good time for a run. I get out of bed and get dressed, not bothering to have a shower before I get outside the compound. What's the point after all? I'm going to need one afterwards anyway. Running makes me feel free and reckless. The wind presses my shirt against me as I run, and I let my mind go. That's what I love about it - I can let go and escape everything; the noise of the Dauntless, Eric watching my every move, my father and, the Stiff.

When I return to the compound, I have a shower and make my way to the training room. I walk in, and find that the initiates are already there, waiting. They stand in a line, and I skim my eyes over each face.

"The first thing you will learn today is how to shoot a gun. The second thing is how to win a fight," I inform them. I make my way down the line, pressing a gun into each of their hands. "Thankfully, if you are here you already know how to get on and off a moving train, so I don't need to teach you that."

I glance at the group again, and notice that most of their eyes are still heavy from sleep. "Initiation is divided into three stages. We will measure your progress and rank you according to your performance in each stage. The stages are not weighed equally in determining your final rank, so it is possible, though difficult, to drastically improve your rank over time." I pause to let the information sink in. 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."

"But what does firing a gun have to do with bravery?" One of the initiates asked through a large yawn. I stand directly in front of him and stare into his eyes. Without looking away, I flip the gun in my hand and press the barrel to his head, clicking a bullet in place. He freezes, the yawn dead in his mouth.

"Wake. Up," I snap at him. "You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it."

I lower the gun and his eyes harden as the immediate threat has gone. Surprisingly enough, he doesn't say anything in retaliation. The Candor has already learnt it is smart to keep his mouth shut in this place.

I begin pacing up and down the line, looking into each initiate's eyes as I say, "and to answer you question, you are far less likely to soil your pants and cry for your mother if you're prepared to defend yourself." I pause, and stop pacing. "This is also information you may need later in stage one. So, watch me."

I turn towards the targets lining the opposite wall. I part my feet shoulder width apart, and lift the gun I hold with both hands. I breathe in and focus on the middle of the target. I pull the trigger and exhale. The bullet hit the dead centre of the target. I step back and lean against the wall to watch the initiates. My eyes sweep up and down a few times, then rest on Tris. She's so much thinner and shorter than the rest of the initiates, and she's having trouble just holding the gun.

My eyes stay on her as her small arms slowly push the gun out from her chest, aim and shoot. But she wasn't ready for the kickback on the gun, and she is thrown backwards. She rests a hand on the wall to steady herself and takes a breath. I follow her gaze to the target - I have no idea where her bullet went but it is safe to say it was nowhere near close to the target. Tris sighs, and fires again and again and again. None of her bullets hit the target. She reminds me of the first time I shot a gun, in this room two years ago. I didn't stumble like her, nor did I miss as many times, but her wariness and hesitation with the gun reflect my own reaction to it. I smile a little at the thought of having something in common with her. An Erudite boy next to her, Will, turns and says something to her, and Tris turns and fires, hitting the target finally. She glances at Will, and they both begin laughing. I feel a pang of jealousy, but I couldn't imagine why.. As time goes on, everyone's target is riddled with holes, even Tris manages to hit her target a few times. Eventually, a bullet finds it's way to the middle of her target and she lowers her gun, smiling.