Az is sitting on my left and Harper is on my right. We, James, and the ten of the Dauntless born initiates left line a dark tunnel, us on one side, them on the other. We're all crouched down, sitting with our backs against the walls, watching each other. Az is asleep on my shoulder, but I don't know how she can be so calm. When we first arrived, Four opened the door at the end of the hall and called Donna, one of the Dauntless bourn into the room. We haven't heard from either of them in half an hour.
"So what do you think it is?" Harper asks aloud, and his voice cuts through the silence like a hot knife.
"What do we think what is?" one of the Dauntless girls asks. She's long legged, and dark colored, black hair, black eyes, tanned skin.
"Stage two, what do you think it is?"
"We don't know," says the girl I pulled onto the train on Choosing Day. She's tall too, but with sleek blonde hair and blue eyes. "No one's allowed to talk about it."
"But what could it be?" he asks again.
"Stop asking about it, transfer. You'll know when it's your turn," the first girl says.
"Harper," he says. "Not transfer."
"Tamsin," the first girl says, to nods her head at the other girl, "This is Alice."
"This is Olivia, and Az, and James."
"We know Olivia," Tamsin smiles. "First jumper."
"Instructor puncher," Alice chimes.
"Infant protector."
I can feel the blush on my face.
"Yeah, that's right," Alice says. "You're quite the talk amongst the younger crowd. Especially since you're from Abnegation."
"I'm not Abnegation anymore," I say.
"You're well on your way to proving that," Tamsin says. "Especially since last night."
My eyes cut into hers. It's alarming to know that the tale of what happened the night before is out. I don't want people looking at me differently, treating me like glass because others had to come to my rescue. It also leaves me with the question of who let it out: Tobias or Eric?
"What happened last night?" Harper asks, eyes brows coming together and creasing his forehead. He looks at me then back at the other girls.
"Nothing," I say coldly, "Not a damn thing."
"'s not what I heard," a Dauntless boy says. "I heard you almost got thrown over the chasm. Two guys tried killing you, and it didn't stick."
"That's enough, William," Alice says, "No need to be a dick."
"Is that true, Olivia?" Harper asks me quietly. I try to ignore him the best I can, but when Harper concentrates on you, you have to give in.
"They grabbed me out of bed," I tell him lowly, but with the way the others in the tunnel have gone still and silent, not lowly enough. "They dragged me to the chasm, and they did throw me over. I caught the rail. Four pulled me back over."
"And Eric beat the shit out of the two that grabbed you," William says.
Alice whips a knife out of the top of her boot and leaves an incision the size of my hand down William's arm. He hisses and pulls away, pulling at his shirt and trying to staunch the bleeding.
"I told you not to be a dick," she growls. "Don't make me tell you again."
"Olivia," Harper breathes. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because I'm fine. I've got a concussion and a disgusting headache, but nothing's broken, and I'm not dead, so I'm fine. It's nothing to talk about."
He watches me for a moment, then looks at the Dauntless born.
"What happened to the two guys?"
"Dead," Tamsin says. "Max and Eric's orders."
One by one, the others disappear. James, then Alice, then William, then Harper, and three other Dauntless born I don't know the names of. Only Az and I are left out of the transfers. The Amity girl is awake now, and aware of the fact that she missed a very interesting conversation while she was asleep. I had to promise to tell her later before she would relent. The door opens again, but Cate emerges this time, not Four.
"There's a situation in the control room, so Four's been called out. It'll be a few minutes before we can find someone to replace him."
"You can't?" Tamsin asks.
"Not trained," she says. "Takes a certain, special…someone to train the initiates in Stage Two."
"We're doomed," Az moans, falling on me and being generally over dramatic.
"Relax," Cate says. "No one's died in Stage Two in years."
"Oh, years," she groans. "That makes me feel loads better."
"Sarcasm is not a good look on you," I tell her.
"It's not a good look on anyone."
"It looks good on Four," Tamsin says, batting her eyelashes.
"Anything is a good look on Four," Cate says.
"You think he's attractive?" I ask.
"You don't?" Tamsin asks.
"No," I tell them, and both Cate and Az laugh.
It takes an hour, but finally the door behind Cate opens.
"Who's next on the list?" Eric asks, leaning in the doorway. He looks like he didn't get much sleep the night before.
"They sent you?" Cate asks. "Couldn't they send Carlos or Ann?"
"Carlos is on the fence for the next week; Ann is still on maternity leave. I'm the only one left. Who's next?"
He doesn't seem pleased about it.
"There isn't a list," Cate says. "Four was calling them randomly."
"Of course he was. Jack, you're next, let's go."
Jack stands from his place on the floor and follows Eric into the room.
"Jackass," Cate mutters.
I'm next. Jack doesn't come back out, none of the other initiates have either, but Eric calls me in and all I can do is take a deep breath and follow. The room is dark, and small, but warm. There's a bank of monitors on one wall, and a metal reclining chair in the center of the room; the machine beside it is pretty familiar.
It's a simulation, I think, just like the Aptitude test.
"I was allergic to the Aptitude Test," I tell him.
"I know. The braniacs in Erudite whipped up a special formula just for you. It's supposed to keep your body from reacting. Sit down."
I slide into the chair. Eric picks up a needle from a table behind him; the fluid in the injector is green.
"What's it like?" I ask.
"What?"
"A simulation."
"You don't remember?"
I shake my head.
"You won't know it's a simulation." he says. "Stage Two makes you face your fears. You'll go through them one by one until you calm down, lower your breathing and heart rate. Then you'll wake up. Simple as that."
I nod briefly, and Eric reaches forward to prick the skin of my neck with the tip of the needle. It's like falling asleep.
When I open my eyes I'm still in the same room. The space is still small, still dark, and I'm still sitting on the metal chair. The computers are still on the wall, the empty syringe is still on the tray, Tobias is still sitting next to me. He's staring at me, watching me look at the room, like he knows something's wrong. He looks like he did the morning he chose to leave Abnegation, the morning he chose to leave me.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Whatever happens," he says, "I still love you."
"What?"
"Don't follow me, Olivia."
He stands from his chair and starts to move towards the door. I try to reach for him, but my arms are glue to my sides, my legs are frozen, and I just have to watch him walk away again. I feel like my lungs are dry, shriveled like the elderly factionless I've seen wandering the city, and my heart is beating so fast it's all I can hear; it makes the same noise over and over again: don't follow me, don't follow me, don't follow me, don't follow me. I can't breathe, and I'd bet my life that I'm crying, and no matter how hard I try I just can't control myself, I can't calm down.
It's just a simulation, Eric's voice repeats, It stops when you calm down.
But I can't because….because….
He's gone.
I open my eyes again and I'm clenching the front of Eric's shirt in my fist, gulping air like I've been starved of it. My pulse is still roaring in my ears and I can vaguely tell that Eric is speaking, but I can't, and don't care to, decipher what he's saying. I feel the bile rising in my throat at the same time as I spot the trashcan in the corner under the bank of monitors. I slide out of the metal chair and dive for it, barley making my make before I start throwing up.
I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand when I'm done, and sit back against the cool wall. Eric is watching me. I meet his eyes, and I'm a little surprised that I'm not ashamed of my fear; everyone is afraid of something, and everyone is afraid of something different. I calm myself down, take deliberately large breaths until my heartbeat recedes, ignore the taste of stomach acid in my mouth.
"You're afraid of Four?" Eric asks.
I shake my head.
"I'm afraid of him abandoning me."
"You've known him for a week," he says, and I think I can hear just a hint of disgust in his tone.
I shake my head again.
"Four is my brother."
I'm lying in my bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. Az is lying opposite me, her cold toes pressed under my ribs; Harper is sitting on the floor by my head, his head tucked between his knees. I can hear him sniffle every once in a while. Az hasn't said a word since she joined us. The room around us is dark. I don't know if James is in here with us, or if he's off somewhere in the compound.
"What was yours?" Az asks quietly.
"Abandonment," I whisper. "You?"
"They burned my mother at the stake."
"Who?"
"Don't know. What about you, Harper?"
"Falling," he says, "Off of the top of the Hub."
"God, we're all a mess," Az sighs. "Let's head to the cafeteria and eat our weight in the chocolate cake."
"I second that motion," Harper says.
When they're both on their feet, but I haven't moved, the two of them forcefully pull me to my feet. I stumble forward before catching myself. We all trudge to the cafeteria together, lumbering slowly and not caring that we're annoying the people around us. They may have done what we just did, but not today. The cafeteria is busy, but not full and when we each have a plate of cake in our hands, Harper directs us to the table where Alice, Tamsin, and another Dauntless boy are picking their own deserts apart.
"Hey," Alice says dully. "How are you guys?"
"About as good as you and your lot," Harper says honestly.
She nods.
"We have to do it again tomorrow," Tamsin says. "Do you think it'll be the same fear? Or will it be a different one?"
"Don't think about it," I say.
"I threw up," the boy says.
"Me, too," I agree.
"I don't really want this cake," Az says.
"Yeah," Tamsin says. "We figured that out already.
"We're pathetic," Alice says.
"Yeah," the boy agrees.
"Not really," I say, and the rest of the table looks at me. "I mean, not completely. This is part of the learning curve: we can't face our fears if we don't know what they are, and if we don't know what they are, then how can we expect to face them in a real situation? I don't think it's about not being afraid, I think it's about being afraid and still be able to do something about it."
"Has anyone ever told you, you think like an Erudite?" Alice asks.
"I wish they'd stop."
We're all sitting in the same tunnel again the next day, except this time everyone is silent and still. One by one our numbers dwindle, until it's my turn. It's the same room, the same darkness, the same chair. Except this time both Eric and my brother are in the room. I look at them both, confused, because only Eric was needed last time.
"Family can't test family," my brother says. "It wasn't a problem yesterday because I was called away."
"Oh."
"Are you okay with this?" he asks.
"Why wouldn't I be?" I ask weakly. "I've always wanted to show every Tom, Dick, and Harry my deepest, darkest, most irrational fears. It'll be a cake walk."
"You still get sarcastic when you're scared."
"You're still a grump in the morning."
"You really should concentrate on overcoming your fears."
"You really should concentrate on not being an asshole."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Yeah," I swallow. "I know."
He glances at Eric, who hasn't said a word, and walks out the back door. I walk towards the chair, and Eric uncaps the needle.
"Is it always the same fear?" I ask.
"No."
"Great."
I'm in my grey kitchen in my grey Abnegation house, washing the grey dishes with grey scented soap. My clothes are grey, my hair is grey, my life is grey. I put the clean dishes to rinse and set them in the drying rack. I hear the door fly open and hit the opposite wall; the plate in my hands crashes to the floor and shatters. I know what's coming.
My father storms into the kitchen. I don't know why he's angry, but the shards of ceramic scattered on the floor only set more kindle to the flame. I scamper to the broom closet, and reach for the broom and dustpan, but my father catches me by the wrist. He yanks me back, and I hear the bones in my hand pop, and he throws me to the floor. I hit my head. I sit up, dizzy.
He's yelling, but I can't understand him, can't answer when he shouts a question. He picks up a drying glass and flings it at me. It misses, hit the floor, shatters. A piece hits me in the face, glances across, but still splits skin. He storms forward, still yelling, buzzing in my ear like a fly rapidly beating its wings. He grabs the front of my dress, hauls me up, punches me once in the stomach. I can't breathe.
When I open my eyes, one of my hands is in Eric's shirt again, and the other is held in one of his own; his other hand is holding my shoulder down. I let go quickly, draw away like being burned, but he pulls back more slowly, sits back down, leans in his seat. I don't feel the need to vomit this time, but I'm so, so angry with myself. When I chose Dauntless and left Abnegation behind, I swore I'd never be afraid of my father again. He has no power over me here, or anywhere, but it doesn't seem that my mind has quite caught on.
"What happened?" I ask.
"You punched me in the eye," he says.
"Sorry."
"Don't be," he says, and I look up at him. "You've convinced your body to fight your fears, now you just have to convince your mind. It's half the battle."
"Right. Okay. Good talk."
I slide off of the metal chair, and I have to support myself for just a moment before my knees start to work again. I shake the lingering feelings of phantom fingers grabbing me, brush off the bruise I know isn't under my shirt.
"How long did it take you?" I ask. "How long did it take you to work through the simulation?"
"Twelve days," he says. "Four did it in seven."
"He's always been an overachiever," I say. "Can't help himself."
He stands and follows me to the back door. My brother is waiting for us on the other side; he's been chewing on his fingernails if the irritated skin is to go by. He looks me over, checks for what I don't know because it isn't like I would carry injury from a situation that took place in my own head, then looks Eric over like the other man would have done something other than administer the simulation.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah. Better than yesterday."
"Showoff," he huffs, and throws an arm over my shoulder. "I've got to finish with the others."
"I'll see you at dinner."
"See you."
He passes Eric and closes the door behind him.
"Thanks," I tell him.
"What for?"
"The simulation. You're not as big of a jerk as everyone says."
"Who says I'm a jerk?"
"I can't say," I turn away and head towards the Pit. "But I think they're wrong."
