Chapter 7
A/N: I've made a tumblr specifically for my writing now where you can message me, follow progress and perhaps enjoy some sneak previews of chapters. You can find that in my profile. Enjoy the next chapter and let me know your thoughts, I really value them.
The thunderous footfall of a hundred Dauntless students clambering for the exit had Mila retreating into her locker as though she might crawl in. They radiated a scent of adrenaline induced sweat and cologne, though the latter was fleeting. Sprinting, they rounded the corner and she felt herself slammed into the wall as the stampede ensued, the lockers rattling under the impact.
An incessant pattern, her Faction prided themselves on being the last in and the first out as though more honourable duties called. Mila snorted softly to herself, shovelling cake into their gobs so their nose rings might become further encrusted hardly seemed the definition of brave. Some such students, high with the power of a crowd, jeered in passing.
'FRE-AK!,' they bellowed, juggernauting through like she were a ribbon to be severed. It felt like a lifetime for them to pass, but pass they did and each day she savoured a train ride home isolated and safe from torment. That was until the arrangements had changed.
The concoction of body odour and testosterone lingered in the corridor but it was a littering of different Factions who filtered out now at a leisurely pace. A car horn sounded abruptly, demanding in its piercing tenor as the students crowded to the glass doors.
Correct in her suspicions Mila drew out a long groan earning raised brows from her peers. The continuous blaring of the horn resonated from a sleek black vehicle parked outside. Eric stood reclined on the bonnet of the car wearing dark shades and a pleased smirk as he took his hand off the steering wheel for a moment and then proceeded to slam his hand down again; Mowbray cringed into the cream leather seats.
Squeezing through the horde of bodies Mila edged along the lockers and gathered her skirts. To evade Eric would be no easy feat she could now concede, but it would be a lot easier without her habitual ungainliness.
A Fire exit in the gymnasium provided potential salvation, she sprinted for the door but fell short as her dress caught the handle. Mila wrestled with the tangled material, her elbow flew into the door eliciting a pained growl. She stumbled back, hands flying to her hair as the net tickled her ear. Mila's fingers found instead the threaded material and in ripping away from the wall she took with her ten dozen basketballs that bounced and squealed along the floor.
"Shit!" she hissed, scrambling on all fours to the exit, her skirts pooled around her causing skin to scrape against synthetic wood.
In the distance an engine roared, tires screeching and Mila made a dash for the door, her breaths fell heavy in her ears as she ran from the sound. The days had become fleeting, Winter chased away any lingering slip of sunlight and it was in eve's navy hue that she paced the streets in search of solitude.
A door slammed two blocks along. Mila skidded to a stop. His footfall was slow, deliberate, boots crunching against gravel. She made a getaway for the barest opening between two dejected buildings, but the alleyway was dark and the city was an enigma to her.
His approach was noiseless now; perhaps Eric had grown bored; frustrated that she should make his task more difficult. Mila crept, pasted along the brick wall and tuned out from the city's ambience, searching only for some sign that he might be close.
The engine came to life, whirring it skidded along the streets and the sound grew quieter. Her shoulders slumped as she exhaled in relief, no doctors, no more.
Mila delved a hand into her hair and tousled it to one side, her body felt lighter somehow as though her stomach had been riddled with lead. She rounded the corner and froze when a glacial gaze held her there.
Eric remained still, daring her to move, if this was a game he had already won. His first step ignited her desire to flee; she bolted and slammed into a solid arm. Barred in, she swallowed the thickness in her throat and faced him. Eric's gaze glimmered with victory, and it was dark, his eyes like hollow canals as the shadow encased them both.
"Did you really think you could hide?" he murmured, "I know this city, every inch. Where did you intend to go?"
Mila held his stare, though her breaths were ragged and there seemed in him a change that frightened her.
"Away from you," she spat.
A muscle worked in his jaw, his palms slid down the wall and the space between them was dwindling.
"I'm here to keep you safe, now how can I do that when you go looking for trouble."
"I wasn't-" she battled with the words, "It's not even-"
"You're in a dark alley, alone."
Mila huffed and looked away, her body shrugged in defeat.
"I don't want to go," she said dejectedly.
When her gaze returned to his he was studying her, searching for something in the vulnerability she displayed. Eric's eyes narrowed, he pushed away from the wall.
"You just don't want to be helped do you?" he'd retreated into the obsolete darkness leaving only a voice to question her.
"Daughter of a leader, you could have everything. But you waste it."
Mila's fingers tore at the flesh of her nails, scraping incessantly, willing the pain into something physical.
"No one can help me."
"All you have to do is tell me!" he growled, visible now. "Just tell me who and it'll stop."
"It's not like that simple, they won't go away I-" she trailed off desperately as he stormed away, glancing to where only wired gates stood ahead she followed him out onto the road.
His figure was large and lonesome in the vast space, and he paced without hesitation, because he knew she would follow. She had to.
"We're late," he spoke coldly; Mila struggled to match his stride and found herself breaking into short clumsy runs to catch up. Eric stopped mid-stride causing her to skid to a halt behind him, he fixed her with a warning look.
"And if you try this again, I won't be coming to find you."
The frigid air was all too tangible now, as a haggard laugh punctuated his words and feral barking followed them through Factionless streets.
Mila breathed in the sterile air, that sickly medical taste and balled her fists so that the hot sweat seared her palms. Erudite possessed the largest and most technologically advanced healthcare centre in the city. Eric recalled brief visits from his own childhood, vaccinations, assessments, but he was a stranger now as he sewed his own scars with stubborn vigour.
Somewhat livened he observed the force with which she wrung her hands with silken skirts.
"Need a towel for that sweaty?"
Mila smacked his arm, disarmed momentarily by her gall he paused before shoving her. She toppled off the bench and grumbled, aiming a kick at his shin. Eric sidled away with ease, leaning in to where she lay on the floor and flicked her forehead. Mila batted his hand away furiously evoking an amused chuckle from her tormentor. Incensed by his laughter she barrelled into him which only seemed to achieve his moving an inch, the following slap he deflected with ease followed by another.
The playful attack continued until they were slapping each other's hands rapidly, rolling his eyes Eric decided he'd indulged in her antics quite enough and pressed his index finger into the pressure point beneath her jaw. Mila cringed away, pawing at his arm which held like stone.
"Uncle! UNCLE!" she yelped.
He withdrew his hand and smirked in satisfaction. The acidic look she shot him was short lived as her lips fought a smile.
"Mila?" a young man stood before her with dark blue scrubs and a tablet in hand.
Eric noted her warm expression falter, face sullen and bloodless. She rose from her chair, he followed, eyes narrowing as the tablet hit his chest.
"Patient's only," the boy said sternly though his quick departure belied his angst under the Dauntless guard's stare.
Mila treaded softly into the room, turning her head to catch Eric's gaze. Devoid of all fury, all pretence, she was just a girl afraid. He found himself taking an unconscious step forward when a large hand curled around the door and pulled it shut.
26 minutes and 17 seconds had passed when the screaming began.
He hadn't taken his eyes off the door which remained resolutely closed, it might have been part of the wall, it may well as have been. Once shut, two panels of steel slid together to seal her in, Eric's reservations begin there and continued into enduring seconds. He'd remained oblivious to the circulating patients, phones chiming and panicked nurses, there was only her.
"NO!" her shrill scream silenced the room, all eyes averting now to the titanium door. Eric jumped to his feet and looked to where a woman dialled frantically.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Mila's agonized yells persisted.
"I need security in ward 5," the phone trembled in her hand. "Hurry pl-"
Eric stood over her, having cut the line he allowed her to wither under his glare.
"Open the door."
"Sir I'm afraid I c-" the phone skidded from her grasp, slamming to the wall where it crumbled.
"Open that door," he warned coolly, every word deliberate. The receptionist reached up to fix her glasses clumsily, gnawing her lip she jolted back in her chair as something slammed into the metal door from the inside. Whatever it had been there now existed a momentous dent in the surface; the steel twanged and reverberated off the walls.
A gathering of Erudite guards filed in, guns taut in their lanky arms. Eric sneered, striding forward he grabbed the leader by his scruff, their aims shifted. Sought by the weapons of his prior faction he locked an arm around the young man's throat and displayed his human shield.
"Don't move," he growled, the boy whimpered within his grasp and omitted choked gargles.
Her yells had morphed into shrieks; he could hear the trembling sobs in her pleading. Eric tightened his grip on the guard's neck, more dents followed as the door was battered continuously.
A nurse sidled to the print recognition plate, her gaze heavy with doubt. She swallowed thickly as Eric watched her every move with his lips curled into a sneer.
"Do it."
Her hand hesitated before the tablet for a moment, before pressing down. A single beep followed and the steel panels resided into the walls. Mila threw herself forward, tumbling to her knees she shook violently on the floor as hot tears seared her cheeks. Eric unwittingly loosened his grip on the guard when he observed the torn flesh of her knuckles, she couldn't have…
A bullet flew past his temple, alert now he kicked the closest soldier in the stomach, the weapon flying from his grasp Eric caught it and jammed the butt into another's nose. The next shot fired as he grabbed the leader's gun and pointed it at the ceiling. A smattering of rubble showered the ward where the onlookers scrambled for safety.
Wasting not a moment, Eric utilized the ensuing chaos and ripped Mila up from the floor. He threw her limp form onto his shoulder and sprinted for the exit, skidding onto the ground when another bullet followed.
Patients and Interns flew out of his path, descending down the wide marble staircase he cursed at the sprinting steps which tailed them. Eric secured his grip on her legs and slid down the railing, leaping onto the ground floor he made a b-line for the awaiting car. Mowbray's stuttered complaints when unheard as Eric threw Mila into the backseat and shoved the Chauffer aside.
They left Erudite with a screeching of tyres and a trail of smoke that dissipated into the night.
Moonlight pooled through fragmented glass to illuminate the young fighters. The remainder of the Pit existed in shadow, though training was encouraged, brutal fights between minors were strictly prohibited. Ren leapt from the ring with an adrenaline fuelled grin; wiping away the wet sheen of perspiration with his shirt he immersed himself in the crowd.
Two new participants began to circle each other, driven by the crows of their peers and a violent desire to cause pain. Ren turned away from the display, Jack hovered on the outskirts of the ring, and flexing his bandaged fist he watched them with savage desperation.
"Ready to get back in there?" Ren slapped his friend on the back.
Jack shook his head slowly, gaze fixed firmly on the fight.
"I can wait," he muttered.
A series of exhilarated cries echoed around the vast space as a girl fell to her knees, blood dribbling from her lips she omitted a ragged screech when her opponent slammed his boot into her spine.
Ren grabbed a knife from the pile beside them twirling it in his grasp; the blade drew obscure circles in the ground. His stare swept over Jack's contemplative form.
"What for?"
The girl's arms trembled violently until she collapsed in a limbless heap, sweat soaked and heaving. Both watched as she was scooped up and dragged away, droplets of blood smeared behind her.
Jack looked at Ren then, his thumb rubbed slow circles over the gauze wrapped palm.
"Not what," he answered, "Who."
Sleep had taken her some hours ago, a luxury Eric forewent in examining Janet's ministrations. She treated the girl with a sour temperament and a practiced ease that furthered his concern. Mila's eyes fluttered open for a moment, body seized within hidden dreams before sinking into the mattress. Janet tutted as the girl twitched erratically, pupils rolling into the back of her skull.
Scrubbing the salve into Mila's angry sores she adopted a gentler approach under Eric's stern gaze, a revolted expression marred her features as she picked flesh from the girl's fingernails. The scent of strong spirits cut through the air as it seeped into her wounds, Janet bandaged them hurriedly, eager to distance herself.
Grey wisps framed her face which had grown reddened and weary; she released a haggard sigh and began to secure Mila's body to the bench with secure bindings. Eric rose from his chair, wrenching the woman's wrist away in a fierce grip.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"It's just a precaution," Janet spat.
Eric released her hand causing her to stagger away, she massaged the bone there tenderly, a bitter remark went unspoken at his scowl.
"You're free to leave," he said, it wasn't a request.
Janet shook her head, a strange smile on her lips as she made to leave. Eric removed the straps that rendered Mila immobile.
"You 'ave no idea what you got yourself into," she cackled and left, allowing the door to slam shut behind her.
Eric stared at the space in which she'd warned him, allowing the words to seep in with a scowl. He did not enjoy being put into a place of ignorance, especially by old, mouthy servants. Mila omitted a soft sigh, he turned to where she remained still, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
Placing her hand in his he brushed his fingers over the frayed skin, lingering on cotton clad knuckles. To even indulge the idea that she might have inflicted such damage was absurd, and yet what else could it have been?
Mila's hand lay frozen in his as a shadow passed over them. Eric stiffened; releasing her hand he glanced to where Hank watched them curiously.
"We need to talk," Eric spoke rigidly.
"Yes," Hank's gaze stilled on the straps hanging loose beside her body. "I suppose we do."
The walk to his office whilst silent was permeated with a thick tension. It seemed a manifestation of questions unanswered and requests broken.
Though both had a great deal to say, it was where to begin that proved a hindrance. It was only as Hank went to summon the strength with Whiskey that Eric broke his silence.
"Why did you hire me?"
The bottle froze in Hank's hand, and he spun to face the younger man.
"I already explained she-"
"The bullying?" Eric shook his head, his stare cold. "Doesn't stick with me."
Hank inhaled sharply, replacing the glass with a firm chink. He opened his mouth to speak, but the retort fell and Eric simply raised a brow in challenge.
"Nothing to say? How about that doctor you sent her to? Anything you can tell me about that?"
"You're overstepping your-"
"Am I?" Eric cut in, the irritation that had been festering for weeks apparent in his acidic tone. "You told me she was being hurt, that she needed my protection. But no one wants to be anywhere near her!"
He continued, incensed as the Dauntless' leader refused to even look at him
"Did you know she attacked someone at school the other day?"
Hank flinched, his watery blue eyes clouded with fear.
"What do you want me to do?!" Eric growled. "What aren't you telling me?"
Quiet still, Hank's spidery fingers hesitated on the draw before him; swallowing thickly he pulled it open and withdrew a worn slip of paper.
"You have to understand," he whispered weakly, "Everything I do…I just want to keep her safe."
"Safe from what?" Eric asked searchingly.
Hank shook his head; his face pale and worn.
"From herself."
Eric opened his mouth to speak, eager for answers but they came now without question.
"The fits began when she was young," Hank shook his head, lost in a memory, "Atala and I thought it might just be a phase but then when she started getting violent…we decided to see a doctor. He told us Mila suffers from a severe personality disorder and borderline schizophrenia."
Eric could only stare disbelieving, why should he believe a man who had only ever lied? His stomach churned as Janet's words ghosted through his mind.
"We tried everything, every treatment, every…pill," he spat, "and finally we thought we'd found something that worked."
Hank looked at him then, his eyes dark with regret.
"I didn't hire you to protect her," he explained, "I hired you to protect them."
He slid the photo in his hands across the desk shakily and Eric felt revulsion curling within him as Mila's mother stared back with a smile frozen in time.
"Mila killed her," Hank whispered brokenly, "She killed my wife."
