Thank you so much to BK2U for re-editing all of these chapters.
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Eric seems to have some sort of soft spot for making me want to die.
"Three more," he hisses. We've been at this for a couple of hours now; my arms are starting to feel like jelly. I'm beginning to see how Eric maintains his physique. His added daily session of weight training might be even worse than watching Four's class shoot me murderous looks. I lift the bar again, and try to make my arms stop shaking. While I've grown stronger, I'm not quite sure I can keep this up for much longer.
"I'm going to drop it," I manage to gasp out. My lungs burn with the effort, and my arms start to tremble with defeat. I try to remember what I've learned about building muscle. The lactic acid that my muscles have been steadily producing for the past two hours is causing some sort of terrible burn, and it turns white hot.
I feel my arms collapse under the weight, and I pray my death is swift.
It doesn't come, of course. Eric is behind me, and he catches the bar easily. His arms are flexed above me, the muscles in his forearms pronounced under the slight stress. He stares at me from his vantage point, his face upside down.
"I guess I'll forgive your cowardice."
"You're too kind," I snap back, and wait for him to move the bar. I'm effectively trapped underneath it. He squints at me for a second, the kind of look where he raises one eyebrow and his piercings almost disappear into his short hair.
"Only for you," he retorts, raising the bar and slamming it back into the brackets.
No one comes to see me during Visiting Day.
I should have expected it. After all, Eric had warned me that sometimes parents and siblings choose not to come. Seeing as how Amity and Dauntless are almost polar opposites, I can understand why no one is here for me.
It still sucks. I find myself standing in the center of the Pit, feeling completely and utterly alone. All around me families are chatting away, hugging their loved ones. I watch as a sweet-looking woman brushes the hair out of her son's eyes, and I have the sudden mean urge to tell her that her precious child is actually a major jerk. I give my former family a few more halfhearted minutes before I decide to head back upstairs.
One of the taller initiates purposely knocks into my shoulder, then throws me a wide, fake smile.
"Ohhhh, sorry Everly. I didn't see you there." He pauses, glowering in front of his two parents dressed in their black and white outfits. "Oh, did your family not come today?" His words sound sympathetic, but they are laced with mockery.
"Faction before blood." I find myself shrugging up at him, smiling sweetly. His parents watch me carefully. His eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to retaliate with something, but I slip out of the room. My chest hurts, and I let out a frustrated sigh. I make my way through the twisting hallway. I can feel the melancholy slipping over me, and I can't help it. I feel like a traitor for even wishing they had come.
I turn a corner, stepping towards the elevators when I feel a hand on my shoulder. It pulls me backwards, and it doesn't surprise me when I turn around to find Eric behind me. He stares for a second before clearing his throat.
"They didn't come?" He doesn't sound as annoyed as he normally does. I shake my head and meet his hard gaze.
"It was probably stupid to think they would."
He shakes his head slightly. "It's better this way. It's easier to deal with the detachment if they aren't here." I nod at him, but I drop my gaze.
"It would just be nice to see someone familiar again." I find myself sounding wistful, and I should stop now. I don't need him thinking I can't handle it on my own. "I'm just gonna go back and finish my reading." I look back up at him, trying to keep my expression neutral.
Eric doesn't say anything; he keeps looking at me, his gaze intense. He finally nods at me and sighs. "I'll be there in a bit. Start on the next chapter if you can."
It's nearly sundown when Eric returns.
I'm curled up on his couch, lost in the last chapter of a history book. It's not the book I'm supposed to be reading, and it's definitely not the escapist fare I'd hoped to read, but it's done an effective job of keeping my mind off my lack of family. I almost don't hear him come in until he sits down on the couch next to me and offers me a plate.
"Eat up." His gaze falls on the book in my hand, and his lips curl up ever so slightly when he sees the title. "I don't believe that's what you're supposed to be reading."
I feel a tiny bit guilty, but I ignore it. His bookshelves are lined with all sorts of books, but they mostly seem confined to non-fiction. It had felt almost voyeuristic to skim through the titles.
"Do you really think dinosaurs once ruled the land?" I take the plate from him and settle back against the couch. "I feel like that's made up." I take a bite of meatloaf, and wait for his answer.
His response is merely a raised eyebrow and an unamused glare. His eyes are light gray in this light, and I find myself staring a moment too long.
"Did you have another meeting?" I ask him, trying to think of something to talk about. He's quiet, and sometimes when he's quiet I get nervous. It usually means he's thinking of something that I should be doing to prove my dauntlessness.
"No, I got stuck trying to explain to some dumb fucks and their families why I'm not their instructor." Eric takes a bite of his dinner.
I try not to laugh. One of them had to be Dean. Dean's been skulking around our training area for some time now. He's been watching what we're doing, trying to see if it's better than what Four's showing him. Eric hasn't had a ton of patience with him.
"Sorry." I find myself smiling in amusement, and Eric rolls his eyes.
"Don't be," he mutters. His gaze is down at his plate, and his features are sharp from this angle. I take in his strong jaw line and the curve of his nose. He's very handsome in his own way, if someone could manage to handle his temperament. His eyes flash up to meet mine, and I wonder if he can read my thoughts.
"Are you done?" His voice has that same rough tone to it as it does when he's about to tell me something I don't want to hear.
I nod; even though I've only eaten half the food, I'm fairly full. Today has left me with little appetite, and I'm mostly looking forward to going to sleep and pretending I'm fine with being on my own.
For once he doesn't say anything. He stands and takes my plate from me. I sink back against the couch, and my attention turns back to the book on the table.
Ancient History of the Worlds — Our Past Revealed.
"Here." Eric's voice makes me jump, and I look up at him. He's standing in front of me, holding another plate in his hand. His jaw is still tight, and he patiently waits for me to take it. I sit up slightly straighter, and my face breaks out into a surprised smile.
I take the plate from him with a thank you. He nods at me, and then stomps off wordlessly without looking back.
On the plate, directly in the center, sits a very large piece of chocolate cake.
The next few days pass quickly.
My eyes cross when I try to memorize all the types of fighting defenses outlined in the book. Tomorrow is the first day of fighting, and while I doubt I'll be fighting anyone from Four's class, I have the sinking feeling I'll be fighting against Eric.
"Watch for any repetitive patterns, motions or tics; anything suggesting a pre-attack ritual may be beneficial to defeating your opponent."
I let out a small sigh, and rest my head on my hand, my elbow propped up on the back of the couch.
"Is that book boring you, Amity?" Eric's voice slices through my concentration and I look up at him. He's been in the same spot since we finished dinner; his feet are propped up on the coffee table and he's been engrossed in something on his tablet.
I shake my head, ignoring the small warning that's going off in my mind. I should have remembered he was there next to me. "Just a lot of information to try to remember." I flip the page over, and try to focus, but I can feel him sliding closer to me. Suddenly the book is yanked from my hands.
"I wasn't quite finished." I stare up at him, trying not to acknowledge his cruel smile.
"I think we should get started tonight." He looks almost excited at the thought, and a tiny spark of fear runs down my spine. "Get a leg up on tomorrow's lesson." He stands without waiting for my response, and pulls himself to his full height. I ignore him, trying to look anywhere but at him.
"Maybe you could just help me go over the next chapter." My answer isn't pleasing to him, because the next thing I know, he's got one arm on either side of me, and he leans in close. I can smell the lingering scent of aftershave on his skin, and I can feel the scrape of his stubble against my cheek.
"Orders are not options, here." His voice is as low as ever. I've caught on to his intimidation tactics: invasion of personal space, cruel glares, cutting remarks, the lack of personal recognition. It doesn't mean they don't still work. I swear he lets his cheek graze against mine on purpose as he moves backwards.
"Got it," I answer him, my voice sounding higher than normal. I slide off the couch and flash him a big smile as I walk to find a pair of workout shoes.
I'm screwed.
The third time my head slams into the mat is the first time I wonder if my life will flash before my eyes.
I groan and manage to force myself up. Turns out my brother knows nothing about fighting someone who is apparently the grand champion of all combat. Eric has easily defeated every attack I've made, and predicted every move I try to make. I would almost think I'm boring him except for the small smile that appears every time his fist connects with my body.
"You ready for some real fighting?" He stands before me and I want to back away off the mat. His full size is menacing off the mat, but on the mat it's even worse. He's lost the jacket and the t-shirt, and a thin, black tank top only seems to emphasize that he could easily pound me into the ground. His arms are huge, and he glowers when I assume the defensive posture.
"No," I answer him honestly, and he stops for a second.
"You aren't even trying." He sounds like he's scolding me, and it suddenly infuriates me.
"I am, too! You've just got a few years practice on me. How am I even supposed to get close enough to try and hit you?" The words rush out and a plan forms in my head. A really stupid plan, but it's the best one I've got. I lunge forward while he's mulling over what I said, hoping to catch him off guard.
It works for a second.
My fist connects with his side, but it's barely enough to even touch his balance. He takes half a step backwards before making his way back at me. His first punch hits my stomach, and his second hits my side. I swallow and stagger for a second. He's smirking again, and when he turns for a half-second I kick him, as hard as I can, right on the side of his knee.
Eric staggers forward, his weight thrown off now, and gracelessly crashes down over me. He knocks into me, taking me down with him. He's heavy and solid above me, and his whole body now covers mine. The weight isn't unpleasant, and he's warm against my exposed skin. He stays there for a second before he presses himself up slightly, his pelvis now pressed against mine.
"Are you ready to stop playing?" His eyes hold mine, and I find myself thinking just how pretty they actually are. I must have hit my head harder than I thought. He smirks at me from his vantage point, before he pushes himself up.
"Again, Amity."
There is a girl waiting for us when we arrive at the training room the next morning.
She's pretty, with tan skin and shiny black hair. She's watching us curiously, and she looks confused when Eric and I stop in front of her.
"Christina. Thanks for joining us." Eric's voice is smooth this morning, and I'm too tired to pick up on why. He made me fight against him until sometime early this morning. We didn't stop until I'd managed to hit him a few times, and I'd wondered if it was only because he'd grown tired of punching me.
"What exactly do you need Eric?" Christina asks him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Your instructions weren't particularly clear."
Eric turns to me, and I look up at him expectantly. For a moment I wonder what he sees — just another initiate with messy hair and no hope for survival in this place, or someone worth training? I have a feeling it's the former, and I avert my eyes after a minute.
"I need you to fight her."
Christina groans and shakes her head. "No. I can't help you there."
Eric gives her a wide smile, cold and fake. "It's not a request, it's an order. I need to see how she fights against someone other than me."
Christina's eyes widen, and she turns to me. "You fought against Eric?"
I nod silently.
"I'm surprised you're walking today." I can feel her eyes drifting over me, seeking out bruises and cuts. There are none. Eric never hit me hard enough to leave a mark. I catch his expression, and he's watching Christina with a bored look.
"I'd like to get started today, initiates."
Christina throws him a dirty look. "You know I'm a member of Dauntless, right. An actual member. Not an initiate anymore."
I wonder if they were in the same class, or if Eric was her trainer at some point. Either way, he ignores her and motions towards the mat. Christina lets out a huff of exasperation and finally throws me one final sympathetic glance.
"Fine."
Eric had some sort of meeting to attend during lunch, and I found myself unexpectedly disappointed when he informed me he wouldn't be joining me. I told myself it was only because I didn't want to eat alone. Even Eric's company was better than no company at all. So I nodded at him, and trudged off to the dining hall.
I am sitting at my normal table, eating some sort of fruity salad and sliced chicken when Christina plops herself down next to me.
"How are you feeling?" She has a red mark on her jaw, and a bruise on her neck and arm. Fighting her was much, much different than fighting Eric, and I was proud of how well I'd done. Eric had merely nodded at me and thanked Christina. Eric hadn't said anything other than his announcement that'd he'd see me when he was done with his meeting. I found myself wishing he'd at least offer up some sort of critique.
"I'm good," I tell her, taking a long sip of water. "I'm actually really thankful you were there to help me today. It was nice to have someone other than Eric help me."
She smiles in understanding. "He's a bit intense. OK, a lot intense."
I let out a small laugh and take another bite. Christina wrinkles her nose at my plate. "That's what you're eating? No dessert?" I shake my head at her and almost laugh again.
"I'm good." With my luck, Eric has spies watching to see what I have for lunch; they're likely reporting it back to him right now. Having cake for lunch sounds fantastic, but probably wouldn't be worth the lecture I'd receive later on. And there was also the small fact that I still had almost two thirds of a piece of cake waiting for me back upstairs.
She watches me carefully for a minute, almost as though she's thinking hard about what she's about to say. "Do you want to meet me after training? There are a few stores on the third floor. Clothes, shoes, a commissary. We could pick up some supplies for you. That was my favorite part of initiation. Shopping. "
This is news to me, and I look at her curiously. "Stores?"
"I guess that means Eric didn't take you by there?" she asks, shoving a piece of her sandwich in her mouth.
"No, he didn't." He actually hasn't taken me anywhere other than his apartment and the training room. I'm starting to wonder if he likes my not knowing where I'm going.
"Go figure. I'll meet you around six. I think you need a little break from our fearless leader."
I sit and watch the boys fight.
Eric still isn't back from his meeting, and when I wander into the training room, Four's class is just beginning to start their second round of fights. Four nods at me when I walk up, then continues watching the two boys go at each other. Their movements are sloppy and ill-timed, and I know Eric would hate it.
I sit down by myself and watch, trying to absorb anything that might be useful.
I'm disappointed to find out there isn't a whole lot. The boys swing wildly and seem unpracticed, and almost spastically make their way around the mat. Four comes over to where I'm sitting, and he rakes his eyes over me, giving me the same once over that I seem to experience from everyone else. When he finds no traces of torture, he smiles.
"How's the training going, Everly?" It's weird to hear my real name, and not Amity or initiate. It sounds almost pleasant. I smile up at him.
"It's going well, I think," I answer him honestly. "I'm still alive, right?" He lets out a small snicker.
"You are. And where is Eric?" Four asks me, now quiet.
"He's in a meeting." I tell him, my eyes still watching the fight. "Is it ok if I sit here? Should I go somewhere else? I just wasn't sure where I should wait."
Four shakes his head, his eyes soft. "You're fine. You can sit there. He's probably caught up with Max." He looks at me suddenly. "Actually, do you want to spar against someone?" His eyes scan the room for a second before they fall upon one of the smaller initiates. He's still much taller than me, but he's not overly muscular. I should feel insulted that he's picked who I can only assume is the weakest one in his group, but I'm not. I have a feeling this boy is the option least likely to beat the living daylights out of me.
I look up at him, and I immediately wonder if Eric put him up to this. "Sure." I rise to my feet.
"James!" He calls over the dark-haired boy, and quietly explains what he wants us to do. "Just practice. This isn't a real fight. You won't be scored."
James nods at him, and doesn't say anything to me. He follows me over to the second ring, and assumes the standard fighting posture.
"You first," he says roughly. I can tell he's not entirely thrilled to be practicing with me, but he can't exactly tell Four that. I nod at him, take a fake step forward, and then throw my punch. It hits him in the side, and even though it doesn't inflict any real damage, he scowls at me.
The time flies by. We test each other out, almost in some sort of weird understanding. I let him try what he's learned, and he lets me try what Eric's taught me. Eric's method is far superior, and I can tell James is starting to get frustrated.
"Do you want to stop? We could head back over to Four and…" I'm in the middle of my sentence when his punch collides with my temple hard enough that stars burst in front of my eyes. I stagger backwards, trying to regain my balance.
"Like I'd concede to you," James snarls at me, seeming to forget that this was supposed to be merely a practice match. I try to block his next punch, but he hits me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I can feel myself collapse, and he takes the opportunity to climb on top of me and pin me down. He starts to punch repeatedly; there's obviously pent-up aggression that's been building inside him and it's coming out in some sort of rage against me. He stops for a second, before the next blow hits the side of my head.
The pain is beyond anything I've ever felt. My vision blurs as the attack continues, and then it suddenly subsides. I can hear him panting above me, and I use his hesitation to my advantage. I manage to work my knee out from beneath him, and aim directly for his groin.
He reels back for a second before he's back atop of me, shoving me back into the mat.
One of his hands closes around my throat, and I'm overcome with panic when I suddenly can't breathe.
"Stop!" I try to gasp James's name out, and he lessens his grip ever so slightly. I thrash against him wildly now, kicking and trying to hit him wherever I can. It doesn't really work, and when I finally do manage to hit him somewhere, he tightens his hold on my throat.
"Fucking bitch."
I can hear his words, and my hands claw at him wildly. It's getting harder to breathe now, and he isn't letting go.
"You think you're so special because you've got Eric to train you." The pressure increases until the room starts to darken. I try one final time to get away, but it's useless. I can hear dull voices in the background, but they sound far away. The room spins, and I close my eyes.
And suddenly, the pressure is gone.
I can feel myself gasping, my throat aching with relief. James is now standing, and it takes me a second to realize he's being held up by the back of his neck by one very outraged-looking Eric. I've never seen this particular look on Eric's face before; his eyes are so dark they are almost black, and his jaw is clenched so tightly it looks like it could break.
Four is there, too, pulling on Eric's arm and trying to get him to release James. I can hear him yelling, but I can't make out a word anyone is saying. Eric's eyes find mine, and suddenly they change. He drops James and begins to walk over to me. I'm still on the mat. I would get up, but the room is dark around the edges and for the first time since choosing Dauntless, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. Then everything finally darkens as I hear Eric say my name.
My actual name.