Chapter 10
A side effect of being smart was that everyone thought the right decisions would follow, though to John Ardal it was more of a disease, he was the leader of Erudite and therefore a paragon of morality.
'Not quite' he felt himself grin, it preluded the hysterical laugh that might have gone on forever. He lifted a hand to inspect the skin there, thousands of fine lines etched into his palm; he pulsed his fist open and closed. This hyperawareness of his own self was the feverish result of Euphoria.
Young, charming and shuddering under the weight of expectation his natural genius had evoked, Ardal had injected his first dose of peace serum as a sweating, nervous wreck. From the moment that he felt true languidness flow through his veins he became an addict.
Sliding his way into leadership he accepted his place graciously, shook hands with the board, straightened his blue button down shirt and smiled for the mandatory photographs. Then, only when he had found true solitude did he allow the needle to pierce his skin and soothe him into a state no status could bring.
Years passed and as he won the favour of his people, his city, in leaps and bounds the craving only grew. He sought out new, stronger serums and whilst his insatiable need increased so did his carelessness. To the people of Chicago John Ardal was a genius, to himself he was omnipotent, skipping trials and sailing through safety procedures he knew, no drug was enough.
So here he sat reclined now in the shady depths of his opulent home, lost in the swaying movements of a young woman adorned in crystal blue gems. His dilated vision lingered on the generous curve of her hips and the existing grin fell, in its place, distaste.
High on the dizzying trip of his latest find, Euphoria, John Ardal turned to the business like figure watching from afar and jerked his head to the dancer.
"Have you got anything younger?"
Mila watched him hold the smoke within his lungs as they made their way through the crowded halls, plumes of thick grey surrounding them for brief moments before dissipating into the atmosphere. It provided a distraction and somewhat of a shield between them and the curious eyes that followed, he of course was impervious to those looks, perhaps he was used to it, perhaps he didn't care.
"Can I have one?" she queried, struggling to stifle a wave of panic that surfaced in the midst of public exposure. Mila pressed her nails into fleshy palms, sharp, rhythmic motions and allowed her gaze only to focus on the sinewy fingers that cradled his cigarette.
"No," Eric answered coolly, the incessant herd of bodies that sprinted in true Dauntless manner from corridor to corridor began to filter out on the way to her quarters.
She'd expected no less but the urge to inquire did not settle. He allowed his gaze to travel briefly over her petulant expression, a complaint visible in the turn of her lips.
"I can't imagine poisoning Hank's daughter was part of the job description."
Mila felt a flare of irritation at the title.
"Do you always need permission where my father is concerned? Does he tell you when you can piss and fuck too?" she sneered.
Eric tried in vain to remain oblivious to her words, striding forward until he was encased in shadows of cerulean blue. He could hear her furious steps echoing upon the bridge, she grasped his wrist, willing him to stop. Had he not been consumed with indignant frustration Eric might have noticed the unnatural tenacity with which she held him there.
Weeks of subdued questions swam tumultuously through her mind in the act of stopping him, but Mila found now under the weight of his stare that none could be articulated. She grasped instead for something she knew, unwavering acidity.
"What? Has he rid you of your ability to speak too?"
His expression darkened, weaving sinister excitement through her veins. Finally, she thought, he's really looking at me.
"Watch how you talk to me," he bit out.
"Or. What?"
Eric's steely gaze dropped to his wrist, skin was pulled taut over her knuckles as she held on fiercely. He circled his arm, breaking through her thumb and grasping her forearm so roughly she tumbled into him. Mila's breath hitched as she fell into his chest, bathed in a heady mix of smoke and leather she felt only further exhilarated by the proximity.
She lifted her head, but found only contempt in his eyes. They were not dark and pulsing as she felt her own, his breaths not short and rapid as though stolen.
"You can find someone else to linger at your beck and call," he hissed quietly.
To others his warning might have been lost to the roar of the waters below but to Mila it could not have been more biting in its clarity.
"And risk your desperate efforts at becoming leader? I don't think so."
His jaw twitched, something might have flashed in his eyes, but he held still.
"I can wait," Eric snarled.
Hurt pulsed through her at the statement, how he could not wait to be rid of her, just like her father.
Mila ripped herself out of his grip and shoved him fiercely; he stumbled back into the railing which quivered under his weight.
"Well why don't you just go already!" she yelled, "I don't need you!"
He stood to full form, his eyes hollowed out by shadow.
"You really think I'm doing this for you?" he sneered.
"What?" Mila asked shortly, "Yes…yes of course, why else?"
She started, her head snapping in the direction of a newly passed member of Dauntless whose sheepish steps severed the silence. The venom that had existed entirely for Eric did not waver and the girl quickened her pace under the cutting stare.
A dark figure stepped in, her view of the girl obstructed by his hulking chest. Mila looked up to where Eric stepped forward, cornering her into the bridge's edge, and the hungry waters below.
"W-why else?" she repeated with hushed timidity.
Her gaze darted alerted over his face, set in the same stare she recognized upon those who cried Freak.
Eric too examined the girl that stood caged beneath him, and the eyes he'd known to be a child's, gleeful and innocent, but knew more to be untamed and dangerous.
"What happened to her?" he murmured.
Mila shook her head, heart thrashing now as the metal creaked against her spine.
"Just tell me the truth," he said and it almost sounded gentle in spite of the looming threat. "What happened to your mother Mila?"
She might have been submerged then, a sudden ringing in her ears muted the turbulent waves but it did not stop the water filling her lungs and seeping out, her eyes glazed with tears.
A blank face devoid of eyes, lips sliced through her mind and her hands shot out to Eric's shoulders, her fingers clawing there before she shook violently. He allowed her for a moment to seek reality in his unyielding form, her fingers trembling over the pulse of his neck, his jaw.
Eric took her hands within his and forced her averted gaze to his, tears clinging to her lips.
"It was me," Mila mouthed, the choked admission lost to the waves.
"I killed her," she whimpered, "I didn't mean to, I never-"
He released her, her hands fell limply to her sides as she sank down.
"I'm sorry," her head fell to her knees, but she was not speaking to him. "I'm so sorry."
Mila did not miss however the sound of his steps, one, and another away from her.
'Of course' she surmised, 'Of course this had never been for her protection.'
She raised her head slowly, her voice laced with bitterness.
"He told you didn't he?"
Eric could only stare; he never wanted any of this and his eyes which darted to the opening ahead confirmed as such.
"Please just go," she pleaded, scrubbing at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve.
He remained still, caught in indecision.
"Go away!" she spat harshly, the sound reverberating off cavernous walls.
What scrap of conscience held him there dissipated with her words, and Eric allowed himself then an out. He would no longer be responsible for the woes of his leader's psychotic brat.
Eric turned to where the crooked exit sought his dismissal and walked away. His large silhouette paced along the wall until it too shrank into nothing.
After all, she didn't need him.
Janet was in the midst of lighting a fat blunt when Mila stormed in in a flurry of curls and red rimmed eyes, the elder nurse choked on the first inhale, flapping the smoke hurriedly trying to hide the evidence.
"What you doin' here so late huh? I've been lying around here for ages!" she coughed.
Her reply came in the form of a slammed door, the generator hummed as she switched on the shower.
Janet glared at the closed bathroom door marble white and adorned with plates of gold. The words 'Little Princess' engraved in the centre, though the P had long been ripped off.
"Spoiled little shit, more like," Janet grumbled.
Mila threw open the door and padded along the heated tiles of her suite, rivulets of water clung to her curls as she dropped the towel and pondered her wardrobe in dissatisfaction.
"What? The mournin' dresses aint good enough for you no more?"
She returned Janet's remark with a calm stare, her eyes alight with opportunity.
"Why Janet I could always sport a large red wig if you like, perhaps a singing bowtie?"
The nurse's face turned grim, she shook her head pleadingly but Mila had only just begun, prowling towards her with slow steps.
"Come on Janet, it'd be fun. Big polkadot overalls…"
Janet released a squirming whine low in her throat.
"Stop!" she begged.
Mila halted, rolling her eyes she withdrew and slumped into the plush armchair, soaking the surface with dampened skin.
"I need trousers," Mila sighed.
Trembling still from the images her hateful charge had inspired, Janet peered up at the girl with narrowed eyes.
"Yeah well last time I suggested trousers you told me to stick 'em up my arse."
Swinging her legs over, Mila arched across the chair and threw an arm over her face.
"By suggested you mean you shoved a pair of combats in my face at the crack of dawn, what else did you expect?"
She paused at that, flinging herself from the armchair to bury down into the darkest depths of her wardrobe. Janet squealed as dark material hit her square in the face and lay adorned upon her shoulders. Mila plucked the trousers from her nurse and strolled to the mirror.
"Well what do you know Janet, you can be useful," she smirked and shimmied into the snugly fit combats, frowning as she struggled to get them past her behind.
"Were these designed for a child?" Mila gasped giving one last tug and fixing the zipper.
"Maybe you just need to lay off the cakes," Janet smiled sourly and received a charming middle finger in return.
In lieu of a top Mila found herself glancing at the shirt Eric had discarded some weeks prior in the aftermath of his workout. A hollow churning sensation she had been vying to stifle returned in slipping it on, though cool against her skin it still carried his scent.
"Well that looks ruddy ridiculous," Janet snorted as the shirt fell to her lower thighs, she may as well have worn the dress.
"What you goin' out lookin' like that for?"
"Sparring with friends," Mila sniffed, an elastic band snapped between her fingers as she failed to tame her hair into submission.
"What friends? You ain't got none!"
Mila ignored that remark though the dread that surfaced followed her all the way to the exit. Chloe had said it would only be a select few.
"Oi where you going, you need to wait for Eric!"
Her hand hesitated on the handle before engulfing it and revealing the deserted corridors ahead.
"Eric won't be coming here anymore."
It appeared as the tempo increased so did Jack's desperation, delving into plastic casing with clawed fingers he sought his latest fix with vigour. Word of the training sessions has spread and as such what formality existed before vanished to reveal a more juvenile sport. Ren felt himself grimace as the bass beneath his feet only grew in intensity, the heaving bodies in the ring barely visible under coloured fog and a mass of inebriated bodies.
"You really need another one man?" he eyed the beer Jack nursed with a frown.
"It doesn't even get to me dude, calm your shit," Jack snorted, kicking the cap off with the heel of his boot and swigging generously.
He pulled the bottle away mid chug, frothing liquid dribbled from his chin as he called to the girl who watched the narrow entrance intensely.
"Oi Chloe, where the fuck is she?"
She weaved through the crowd and shrugged; retrieving a bottle for herself Chloe noted Ren's disapproval.
"Save it," she groaned, "I gotta play guard dog all night I'm at least getting a drink."
Raking a hand through thick dreads Ren glanced momentarily to the two figures battling it out in the centre, their motions were delayed yet chaotic, catching each other in bursts of drunken aggression.
"This isn't a goddamn party!" Ren shot back, "We're supposed to be prepping for initiation!"
"It's one drink! Seriously! What is your pr-"
"Would the two of you shut the fuck up!" Jack growled, slamming his bottle on the cement ledge.
Bobbing rhythmically to the music, Saul bounded over with glazed eyes and a wide grin. He punched Ren in the arm, oblivious to the tension of before.
"Would you look at the turn out to-night!" he sang, receiving only irritable looks in return. "Woah, what's eating you guys?"
"This isn't a fucking rave I-"
"That freakshow hasn't shown a-"
"Can't even have one damn drink-"
Saul stumbled back with a clumsy laugh as they advanced on him, scrambling to recover his drink he glanced at the entrance and the nervous figure watching the ring in dismay.
"Looks like you got what you want Jack," he pointed at the doorway and proceeded to pass out on the floor.
"Shit," Jack hissed, shoving Chloe into the crowd. "Get her now! Before she leaves!"
Chloe sprinted away, splashes of alcohol licking her hand as she pushed through the crowd, glass crunching beneath her feet.
"You know I'm not sure this is a good idea dude-"Ren began but was cut off by a seething glare, Jack lifted his hand, a puckered scar below his knuckles served an angry reminder of her venom.
"You wanna see her walk away?" he spat, "Some bitch stabs your best friend and you don't even give a shit?"
"Man you know what I mean I-"
"Either you're with me or you're not," Jack warned, discarding his drink and integrating himself into the crowd.
She knew inherently the sound of a mob, she knew what the music, the lights, and the ecstatic screams entailed but had not turned back. The abandoned warehouse, it was property of the Dauntless but the rotting walls allowed little else than target practice. It had been transformed tonight however into what Chloe had deemed 'a light sparring session.' Mila did not know a great deal about how these things went, but somehow, she did not think a rave was standard.
She observed for a moment the tooth that dangled carelessly from the gums of a victor in the ring, dazzling like a trophy under black light. It didn't much else to feel the ground move beneath her, retreating from the animalistic jeers of the crowd she felt for the exit desperately.
"Mila!" a voice cried, she ignored it, it was no good she really ought to leave.
"MILA!" Chloe's shouts were distinct among the masses now; she whipped around as a hand grasped her wrist, moments away from snapping it before it was withdrawn.
Chloe shot her a confused smile, her blue irises glowed white.
"Where are you going? It's only just started."
Mila swallowed thickly, watching the throng of bodies shove each other in their need to be next.
"I didn't…this isn't what I-"
"Hey come on," Chloe grinned, brushing off her protests. "It'll be fun, look, it's totally relaxed."
A spontaneous roar of cheers erupted out as the pre-initiates took to the ring, they wasted no time with teasing, only a punch or two thrown before they wrestled each other to the floor, tearing and grappling as they went.
It was a strange contrast to the benign expression her old friend held, eagerly gesturing towards the centre, and though she flinched as Chloe's hand encased her own, she allowed herself to be pulled into the horde.
The elevated stand on which the Dauntless fought was obscured now behind the mass, Mila narrowed her eyes in a vain attempt to see, her stomach lurching each time the warehouse erupted into screams. She sought out the vivacious red of Chloe's trademark look but in clambering through the bodies she was met with irritable resistance, vague recognition in their eyes as they pushed back.
"Chloe?" she croaked, her curls clung to her skin now in a light sweat.
A hand caressed the bare skin of her forearm, whipping around she came face to face with a UV white smile, metal studs glinting in the light. Mila jolted away, stamping on a girl's boot mistakenly she earned a muttered curse or two and was thrusted back into Jack, who only grinned further.
"Hey there Freak," he spoke in to her ear, and how she wanted to claw intensely at it just to extract the words. Mila simply shook her head vigorously, she tried to immerse herself into the crowd but he was in no hurry to release her.
"What do you want?!" she hissed, scanning the room for any available exit.
His eyes took on a sinister edge, delighting in the nerves she presented.
"I thought maybe we could dance?" he suggested.
Mila eyed him in dismay, struggling in his grip she sneered,
"I don't want to dance with you! Get off!"
Jack seemed victorious, as though she'd granted him his wish, sliding his scarred hand into her curls he grasped the back of her neck.
"Well if you don't want to dance…how about a little fight?"
With that he yanked back her curls and slammed his boot into her stomach, Mila flew back onto the glass ridden floor, bodies parted ways and even those in the ring stopped with the commotion.
Mila scrambled back, broken shards slicing her palms as she went. Jack revelled in the attention, striding towards her he stamped down on the oversized shirt that dragged along with her, halting the escape.
"Did you really think you could get off free?" he barked out a laugh and leaned over her squeezing her jaw between his thumb and forefinger. His voice took on a quieter tone.
"Did you think for a second that I wouldn't fuck you up?"
The heavy, pulsing beat of the music continue to pound through the walls but there was not a word to be spoken amidst the crowd, some edged forward in an attempt to make peace but were held back by the majority.
"HUH?!" Jack screamed, slamming her head into the ground.
Mila saw the world spin as her skull bounced, she remained frozen in shock, a light ringing existed in the threads of her conscious but she would not feed it, she could not submit, not here.
He stood, his body trembling with fury as he stomped savagely on her thigh, she exhaled roughly, desperately trying to ignore the pain. There was wild excitement in the eyes of the crowd, and what doubt might have existed was eased by their setting. This was after all, an arena.
"GET UP!" he spat, "GET THE FUCK UP!"
He turned to the audience with arms wide, a bitter laugh escaped his lips.
"You see this? We've got a coward in Dauntless!"
His statement was met with a tittering of laughter, Mila rose shaking to her feet, several people stepped in to block the exit.
"S-top," she implored him weakly.
Jack thrust her back into the centre, tutting as he circled her limp form. Whirling his fist he teased for a second before sinking it into her stomach mercilessly. Everyone sucked in an exhilarated breath just as she lost hers, he caught her next in the cheek, and the crack of knuckle against bone was tangible. Tired of playing he threw all of his weight into a punch that floored her, following it with a series of kicks to the back, the kidneys, the face. Mila wrapped herself into a ball until the onslaught had blood trickling from her lips.
"But you want to know the best part about all this?" he grinned, surveying the hoard once more.
"The freak," he paused for emphasis, looking down at her, "Is Hank's daughter."
Silence broke as the warehouse erupted into disarray.
'But Hank doesn't have a kid.'
'No one even sees her'
'There's no way she's his kid!'
"It's true!" Jack exclaimed and pointed then to the young man watching grimly from afar.
"REN told me!
Mila followed his hand with a dizzied gaze, the boy did not cast her a glance as her sank further into the mass. She glared acidly at her attacker as he approached with faux pity, but the ringing only grew, and the features were melting from his face.
"No Eric to protect you now huh?"
He vied to solidify this statement with what would be a glorious knockout, securing her by the collar Jack withdrew his fist and sent it hurtling forward.
Mila threw up her palm, and he met it like concrete, a severed howl left his lips as she clasped his hand within her own, and squeezed.
The bones snapped like crackers beneath her fingers and those who were close enough to see had witnessed for the first time a hand being crushed into dust. Jack looked to his wrist, the severed place where his hand had been, and fainted.
The room flew into action; those with little sense tackled her by the waist, holding her arms and legs.
"Let go of her!" Chloe screamed, having seen the display in sickening clarity.
Mila saw only a blur of fingers, so many long winding reeds swallowing her that needed to be stopped; she dragged the weight off her body, securing the faceless figure onto the ground. Incessant creatures continued to paw at her, she batted them away, shrieks of agony followed as those foolish few were thrown across the floor.
But the thick, veiny vines were obscuring her vision now, seizing her muscles and sending her body into sharp, twitching shocks.
She could not tell the ringing from the screams, nor the singing from their cries. It was all one, loathsome blur.
She's fucking crazy
No! Don't go near her she-
She was released; the bindings flew from her and took with them the bloodcurdling cries. Only two arms held her now, securing her from behind, rocking gently as her vision eased to black.
"It's okay," he hummed in her ear.
"It's over now."