"I desire the things which will destroy me in the end." -Sylvia Plath

Song Suggestion: Dangerous by Big Data feat. Joywave

Chapter Nine: The Puzzle

Smack!

The sound of the knife digging into the center of the target seems to echo throughout the training room. I'm left dumbfounded and trying to not seem too impressed by Four's display of skill.

I want to be able to do that.

This morning I was able to squeeze in a decent amount of training before the other Initiates and Four entered, but I still struggle with blade skills. Throwing them in particular. I managed to achieve an average skill level but know I'm still not good enough to secure my spot. And lately, I've been craving that security. Even just for the first round of cuts.

But I can feel myself growing stronger; I'm beginning to see it as well. My stomach is starting to harden from the flab I had upon arrival and my arms and legs have grown defined and more toned.

I can see the differences on my peers too; we are all turning into little soldiers. It is just a shame for some it won't make a difference.

I stand by Willa as we begin practicing, we don't speak but stay close to one another like usual. I notice Cleo stand next to Willa, lazily inspecting her knife before starting to throw. Her face seems to hold nothing but that neutralism almost seems forced, like she is trying to seem inconspicuous. I watch her from my peripheral, not trusting her and her goons after the shower incident. Now that Willa beat Kayla I expect she must have something planned.

'I hate her' I think as my next throw represents the anger slow burning in my stomach. The rage makes my aim sharper; my knife lodges itself into one of the inner rings of the target. I'm smiling to myself in pride as I hear metal clatter to the ground. The sound of moving bodies and knife hitting wood pauses as we all look to the cause of the sound, Cleo stands with folded arms looking at Willa enraged as the small girl stares dumbfounded at the blades scattered on the ground between them.

Did Cleo knock them off in hope one would find Willa's feet? Or was it an accident? Maybe I'm paranoid, but I expect the former. "What the hell? Pick them up." Cleo says as she gestures to the knives on the ground.

Willa stands still for a moment, looking around unsure.

"Hello? Can you hear me? I said pick them up you klutz." Cleo rebuffs to Willa's silence.

I reach out to grab Willa's wrist and stop her from moving. "You don't take orders from her." I tell her quietly, staring at Cleo as I say it. Why do I feel so wrathful towards this girl? Sure she's uselessly mean and maybe her friends pulled some stupid prank on me but it was all petty- it didn't matter, shouldn't matter. Yet to me, it did, and I can't help but feel for reasons beyond my knowledge.

"She didn't ask for your opinion!" Cleo says as she folds her arms to stare back at me. Back in Amity I'd look away and just stomp off, but that was then. That was with a daily dosage of Peace Serum.

"I don't care, she isn't picking up your knives, so pick them up for yourself." Cleo's face reddens at my words and I feel the tension growing, Willa caught in the middle of a battle bigger than her. I notice the dead silence surrounding us, and all the eyes watching us.

The sound of enraged footsteps finally causes Cleo and I to give up holding each other's stare. Eric is approaching. "If you two want a fight, you have one." He says as he looks at us, his face red with anger. Neither one of us move. "Did you two hear me? I said if you want a fight, you are going to do it the proper way, so go! Now!" Eric points in the direction of the fighting ring.

I swallow harshly and start walking in the direction he pointed us. Look what I've done; I got myself into a fight.

'Maybe this is good, sure as hell know I want to punch Cleo.' I almost get excited at the idea of releasing my bitterness for the girl, but if I lose it could mean the difference between staying and leaving. This isn't just a fight, it is a punishment- a chance to prove myself. Or ruin myself.

I can't lose.

Breathing in steady breaths and trying to go over the various moves I've been working on, I watch with narrowed eyes as Cleo joins me on the platform and takes up a defensive stance. Thinking of her previous fights and how she won or lost them, I'm trying to think quickly.

But she catches me off guard by rushing into the fight; I must not be the only excited for this release.

Once again my mind forces the negative thoughts to the surface, mainly the one of her kissing Eric and the shower incident, and as I throw a right hook it turns out I've also gotten better at channeling the rage. I'm more dexterous now.

Kicking at the back of her knees, she catches herself before her legs can give in and she throws her arm into my neck. Rage mixing with panic and desperation has me coming back from the jab to my neck as I grab onto her shoulders and bring her downwards to knee her in the stomach. Throwing Cleo to the side and kicking her, her legs buckle under her weight.

The fight is going well, I momentarily pause in amazement before kicking her fallen figure. Cleo chokes and I have a flash back to my own body begging for air as someone else kicked me.

Straddling her stomach I begin punching her face, not even finding myself affected by the violence like I once did. I can't choke her out, Eric made it clear that I can't use that anymore, but to end the fight I need to do something. Use your endurance. It was the only way, and luckily enough for me Cleo wasn't the best with her own endurance, she was strong and swift but a life of studying hasn't strengthened her physical will like a life in fields has for me.

I bring my fist downward for another punch and she grabs it before throwing me off of her chest, rolling on top of me and switching the roles. I try bringing my hands up to block my face but Cleo is on top of my arms, her knees digging them into the ground as she hits me with her first punch. My face moves violently with it and smack the ground with the side of my face.

I can't lose.

Bringing my legs up I put all my energy into flinging my legs up to kick her in the back of the head. She groans and I take the moment to roll out from under her weight, cheek still stinging from her punch.

The faces watching us blur and multiply as my shaky muscles get to my feet, concentrating my mind and vision I push myself to start fighting again. Using my endurance to push through, I fight until her movements slow and I can easily dance around her attempts at touching me, jabbing my fists and elbows into her when I get the opportunity.

As I get close enough to punch at the sensitive part of her collarbone, feeling confident with myself now, I suddenly am brought with an excoriating pain. My braids yanked downward, I screech in pain and try to rip her hands from my head. She finally kicks me in the groin and the world begins spinning. Stumbling away I try to focus but find it near impossible.

Only able to barely avoid her punches and kicks, we lazily try to continue our fight, both stubborn to not give up. Wrestling with each other uselessly, we struggle for dominance. "Stop playing with each other!" Eric shouts from the sidelines.

Somehow I find the effort, I don't know how I manage or from where I find the energy but I do. Throwing my entire body into a single punch I throw my fist into Cleo's bruising and sweaty face. I can hear a cracking sound as I punch. Watching the stream of blood pour before Cleo falls, I can barely stand up myself.

I look to Four and Eric, desperate to know that this is enough- that it's over. Four signals for someone to go in for Cleo and I stumble from the stage.

The world tilts side to side as a ringing noise overpowers the sound of words and talking around me, then finally the floor seems so close- so hard to escape. My hands catch myself as I fall and take a spot on the ground to ride out the spinning.

It was like being a child again, spinning in circles before discovering just how it made the world spun. Only now it isn't getting better and it isn't ending. I feel a wave of nausea overtake me.

Someone places a hand on my shoulder and I look back at the faded face of Ash. Confusion settles in, even in my awful state. "Come on." His voice sounds far, nothing compared to the overwhelming ringing.

His arms help me to my feet and hold me there when my body sways and gives into the spinning. He leads me out of the room and I'm too out of it to speak or think twice why he is suddenly helping me after ignoring me for so long.

As he near carries me out of the room, I see Cleo crying in heavy sobs as she holds her nose.

"I think you broke her nose." Ash says as we exit the training room. Did I really break her nose? I'm not sure if I am proud or disgusted with myself. "Trust me, I mean it as a compliment. That was a hell of a punch."

I open my mouth to respond but only a funny noise comes out.

Ash takes me to the bathroom where he sits my on the ground before getting a towel and wetting it, wiping it over my face. It feels nice and cold, but the moment is interrupted when I run off to the toilet to empty out my stomach.

I manage to make the spinning stop as I clench onto the bowl, sobbing. "Are you alright, Cal?" Ash's kind voice brings me to and I turn around to look at him.

Nodding, I wipe the tears from my face. "Yeah, I feel better now." I don't ask him why he is suddenly not ignoring me and instead decide on thanking him. "Thanks for the help, really." He nods in welcome before extending his hand out to me. I take it and he lifts me from the ground. I manage to wash the tears and grim from my face and mouth.

"Want some more time to yourself?" Ash asks and I shake my head.

We head back in silence to the Training Room, where the rest of the Initiates are back to training. Cleo and Kayla are gone so I imagine Kayla took her to the infirmary. Suddenly I find myself deciding to be proud for breaking her nose, maybe now the three will leave us alone. 'Or now things could get worse.'

At least now I know I can beat her.

Not trying to draw attention to myself, I carry out training in silence and in my typical routine. Eventually Kayla returns and after lunch Cleo is back too. We don't have anymore fights- as if Cleo and I's was enough. The afternoon is spent on firearms, where I find myself growing to like it more and more. The power I feel with my fingers curled around the trigger definitely seems to be my vice, but I can't manage to care enough to wonder why I like it so much.

Despite Ash's kindness, we relapse back into our routine of avoiding each other. Though there seems to be a lack of tension now, which I can be glad for to say the least. I already feel like I have enough enemies in the group of Initiates, as it is, no need to add Thea and Ash to the list.

After dinner I say goodbye to my friends to go to the Training room. I wasn't secretive about my actions but never open either; maybe I just crave the alone time. Life had been so isolated in Amity that it is a habit that I can't rid myself of now.

When I enter the Training room, I don't find the usual silence. The sound of a fist colliding with the material of the punching bags fills the room with the occasional sound. Eric stands in front of one of the punching bags, sweating and drenched in sweat.

I stand still for a few seconds before thinking over my options, I could just carry out my own activities and hope he says nothing to me or if anything he is impressed by my extra effort- but I don't feel like the thought of being alone with him. The last time I talked to him he was drunk, and I don't need a reminder of that, if he even remembers the conversation.

"What are you doing here, you were dismissed?" The voice is accusing, I nervously look away from Eric as he stares at me with an annoyed expression drawn across his sweating features.

"I wanted extra practice." My voice echoes in the emptiness of the room.

He snickers, running his fingers through the short length of his blonde hair. "Want help?" It almost sounds like a personal joke to himself, but when he doesn't retract the statement it is clear he was being serious.

I shrug, wanting the help but not from him and not all alone. This is like my worse nightmare, being alone with someone I know I'd be completely defenseless against if they were to… but no that is delusional. Eric is a jerk, and very possibly a bad person, but not that. "You don't have to do that."
"I offered, besides don't you want to learn how to not nearly faint after every fight?"

I shift uncomfortably, suddenly beginning to overthrow my paranoia; it would be a good opportunity. Don't I want to get better? I want to be strong and Eric, for some strange reason, is willing to help me.

"What, are you scared of me?" The question is rhetorical, of course I am scared and he knows it- he seems to love it. It is exactly what he wants from us, to fear him. Four has respect and Eric has fear. But in Eric's eyes lays the real intentions of his words, almost like a challenge, a dare.

He was thoughtful, I realize, smart and an expert with manipulation. Maybe he was Erudite born, it is hard to think of Eric being anything but Dauntless but something about him held that Erudite intellect.

If he was challenging me, I was going to accept it. "I could use the help." I'm careful to not answer the question about fear, no answer could be correct for that one.

I act with caution but try not to reveal my fear. As I walk up beside him he takes a step back from the punching bag. "Show me your punch."

Preparing myself like I've practiced, I imitate the way I gave in my entire body like I did with the punch that broke Cleo's nose. It hits the bag with a large smack. I vaguely remember the first time I tried hitting the punching bag and how Eric found it so pitiful. 'Am I so horrendous now?' I think smugly to myself.
"You're improving, you're a fast learner." Eric says watching me with calculating eyes. "What kind of student were you in school?"

"A bad one." I say honestly, my mind was always too distracted or off in the clouds for paying attention to things I didn't care about, though when I did like I subject is when I could really get into it. "Why?" I dare to ask.

"What Faction did the test place you in? Dauntless?"

I blink, suspicious about the questions. What was he trying to get out of me? "I believe we aren't supposed to discuss the Test."
"Of course." Eric's voice is laced with a fake sense of content before he falls back to his earlier state. "About your form- you are improving with your strength, but you're still sloppy. Try again, but focus on form not power."

I nod, silent, and do as I'm told. The difference is clear; though I find it harder to exert the power I did before.

"Now just combine the force with the form." He is too close, I can see the features of his face, and the way the light hits his light blue eyes... Why are the best looking always the worst of people?

My second attempt after the critique on my form is stronger, I can feel the impact is solid- my hand stings from the impact but I'll accept the pain if it means improvement. "Something like that." It is the best compliment I'll get from Eric.

"I was hoping actually to practice my knife throwing." I say stepping back from the punching bag, desperate for space to slow the racing of my heart. Why did I agree to this? This was an awful idea. It seemed like my resistance to my fear of Eric only lasted so long before my scared and frightened self was left to deal with the consequences.

"I'm not going to stop you, you are on your own time." Eric says, drifting to the side as I head to the knife throwing range. I find him trailing behind me.

Glancing at Eric, I see him standing off to the side with his arms folded watching me. He is waiting, even without a close proximity my heart races. I bite my lip as I pick up a selection of throwing knives. Concentrating on the shaping of my body and my grip on the knife's handle, I send it flying. It lodges next to the target, but not hitting it.

Frustrated and embarrassed by the display I wonder if Eric can take away points out of training time. "Do you know what a mirror is?"

"What?" I ask confused, looking to Eric but he seems to be waiting, I shake my head quickly and try to not make myself into a fool. "I mean, of course."
"Well look in one, did you even watch Four for the correct form?"
'It's always the form…' If having a weakness was bad enough, it was worse to have it show up across the board of skills.

Eric approaches me, standing beside me at proximity so that our shoulders touch. I fight the urge to step back and watch as he hands me a knife. I try again to position myself, really thinking about how Four looked, but I know I'm off. A hand suddenly reaches out and moves my arms into the correct position. The area where our flesh meets burns.

Then it's like a replay of Eric's positioning behind me at firearm practice as he comes from behind my to fix my form, lingering there. My legs feel ready to buckle and my head is in the clouds. But now we are alone and the churning feeling in my stomach is impossible to ignore. I'm paralyzed, my body squirming uncomfortably and tensing up at his presence so close to me, our bodies meeting together. Does he hear my rapid heartbeat? Can he sense my fear? He's so warm, his heat radiating onto my body. I'm frozen, not even able to make an attempt to throw the blade tightly grasped in my whitened knuckles.

Suddenly Eric is chuckling, the sound vibrating in my ear. "I thought you were an Amity, not a stiff." It is all I can take; I don't even care about practicing anymore. Slipping desperately from his grasp, I'm fumbling over excuses to leave. Hoping one of the things I say is enough; I quickly make my exit. Unsure how to process my state, I realize his scent has lingered on my frame and wish to rid myself of it as soon as possible. What if someone were to notice?

It is while I'm leaving that I hear footsteps, quickly hiding behind the open door into the darkened space behind it, I watch as Cleo enters with a determined nature to her strut, her eyes darting around the room until they fall onto something. I imagine that something is Eric; it is the only thing she could have found in here.

I take advantage of the darkness around me and slip out of my hiding spot to position myself in a more hidden location with a view of the two. My curiosity is going to get me one of these days. Last time I spied on Cleo it ended bad; and if this is the third occurrence of me lurking in her life what does that say about me?

"Why are you ignoring me?" I stretch my neck to get a better view of Cleo and Eric.

"What the hell does that mean?" I hear Eric near growl, the anger not so unfamiliar but somehow surprising to hear considering the relationship I assumed the two had.

"It means, you're ignoring me and I don't understand why. Whatever I did I'm sorry but it's no reason to be childish." Cleo had more guts than I thought; I couldn't ever imagine being so confidently angry with someone like Eric. I'd be afraid he'd throw me into the chasm.

"You are out of your mind, just because you force yourself onto me doesn't mean I feel anything for you, let alone like you as a person. Run back to your little friends, I don't like you and never will." The words are cold; they pierce the air and leave silence that affects even me. I wasn't even the one spoken to and it feels as if I was. I almost sympathize Cleo.

But then something in me really doesn't feel bad. Some part of me almost feels glad to hear her get a much needed reality check, cruel as it was. It is a strange tingling, like a little voice egging the whole scene on.

My fascination breaks as Cleo turns to rush out of the room, I move quickly on the balls of my feet to hide in the corner behind the opened door once more. I squeeze my fists in anticipation as I watch Cleo leave, her state of mind too hysterical to notice my hidden figure.

Maybe this is wrong, like some kind of obsession. Wishing to see Cleo fail or track her every action as if somewhere I could find something to hate or ridicule to increase my self worth. It has to be why I feel the things I do… the only other reason is an idea I don't want to think about. The idea that this interest isn't fueled from Cleo but Eric, it almost feels dirty to even consider. But then my mind thinks back to our proximity not to long ago and his scent still lingering in the air around me.

"I know you're still there." The voice isn't hostile and it isn't friendly, it is confident; Eric isn't taking a guess.

I step out from my hiding with an unsure posture before quickly try to stand up tall. Eric is like some sort of creature that could sense fear; I'm not about to let my weakness be seen. Not after my earlier displays of running away.

"So what do you think?" Eric asks as he folds his arms and leans onto the doorframe. It is like I hadn't run out on him shortly before. My eyes dart around the room to avoid him as I shrug.

"It isn't any of my business." I say as I force my eyes onto his.

He scoffs as he takes a step closer. "But you still listened in?" I consider my options of responses and opt for staying silent instead, waiting for him to say more or release me from this conversation. "I hate that." He says.

"I'm sorry." I utter quickly, not even sure if it was something I had done to earn his hatred.

"See? You're so scared of me, why? I haven't done anything to you. Did I kill your mother? Did I stomp on your flower patch as a kid?" Eric takes another step closer.

"I thought that's what you wanted- us to fear you." I say ignoring the jab at my Amity upbringings. Not so long ago he had egged me, he seemed to love the fear I so obviously felt.

"But fear isn't respect, right?" He's close now and I wonder if this is some sick game, does he know what happened to me? He has to know about the incident. That is why he is doing this, because it might just be the best way to scare me.

"It matters who you ask." Today I had thought the same thing to myself, the difference between fear and respect. Here I am discussing it with Eric himself.

"Of course." He says slowly, unfolding his arms. "Isn't it funny that I have an entire Faction of the fearless, fearing me?" I couldn't even begin a place to start a response, how could I ever respond to that? His ironic statement almost made me want to laugh if I wasn't so shocked. "Stop looking at me like that, like I've hurt you."

I step back instinctively and try to shift my face; not even realizing my face had harbored those emotions.

"You looked at me once, without that fear." Eric takes a step, making up for my step back.

"I guess I got smart." I say quiet enough so that only someone close could hear, unfortunately- we are. Was he referring to that one day at training? When I dared to stare back? "Dare I ask; why does it matter what I think of you?" His face quickly changes from the usual emotionless to something I first mistake for anger but then see as something undistinguishable.

"You're smart, figure it out."

I watch him and wait. What is there to figure out? My mind scans over all of the things he has said to me, all the conversations we've shared. I find one thing in common- the occurrence of these conversations all together. I wasn't perfect but I was quiet enough and hardly one of the troublemakers or nosey Candor to earn his attentions but yet so often I find us conversing.

You're smart. Am I? Why did it matter, in the Faction of warriors intelligence was merely battle strategy. Then again this is beginning to resemble the feeling of a war.

"Go to bed Cal." Eric says amidst my calculating.

I give him a strange look and curt nod before turning around to walk as fast as I can without running down the hall. Not daring to look back at Eric as I leave, despite the strong urge to search his features and expression once more.

Figure it out.

Suddenly things are interesting, as if I have been looking at a random pieces all along and all of a sudden they aren't just random- they were pieces to a puzzle. A problem with a solution, all set out for me by Eric, Eric out of all people.

But why?

I intend to find out.

-o-

A/N- I know it has been a while, and that saddens me considering my earlier consistency. But I had been a little defeated with an examination at the enormous amounts of Eric/OC stories and wondered what made mine different. I searched for ways and finally think I've found one, or two. I can't share the second but I reminded myself of the dark nature I want for this story and hope that dark nature can help individualize this story.

I also saw how many follows and favorites this story has gained, which no isn't a ton or anything but I'm proud because I assumed it would be like two or three, so I'll admit it is an encouragement. Even the mere eleven reviews this story has gotten is a real encouragement, so thanks to everyone who has.