Hey peeps!

So, new chapter! Yay! None of you have guessed correctly about what happens on visiting day, but keep trying! It's nice to know what you think will happen! Although, I must admit that one of you mentioned someone that may have something to do with it! Tbh, I think from a plot twist side it's not huge. Anna's parents aren't going to resurrect or anything. Their storyline is pretty much just being dead for the whole story. Wild, I know! But it does include Eric. I'll give you that. Keep the ideas coming! I get inspiration from the weirdest things, like in class today I got a big idea from someone mentioning the colour red. But spoilers… I'll let you guess about the colour red too. So try your bests!

ANNA

I sigh, leaning my back against one of the boxes. I let my hair fall forward, covering my face in a survival hiding technique that I learned long ago. It became habit, but not just because I hoped that by not seeing me properly Alexander would lay off, but also because not one person saw me, and when you're invisible, it doesn't really matter how hard you try to become visible again and you just fade away until everyone has forgotten your existence. But I know right now that there is nothing to hide from – apart from the fact that Eric now knows a piece of me, and I don't know how he's going to handle that information. However the fact remains that I don't believe that Eric would betray me. Perhaps my better judgement is being clouded, but I honestly think that although I don't trust him, I could one day.

My head falls to the side, resting on my shoulder. My eyes remain open, scanning all that I can see from this angle. The box that I lean on I suddenly realise contains knives – thin, pointy, high standard and obviously harm-inflicting type knives.

Alexander's knife trails down my skin, and I imagine it leaving a thin, white trail in its wake. I gasp slightly as he pushes further, digging it into my skin where one of my previous cuts has just started healing. I have learned that my cries only egg him on, which I find it shameful to admit. I should not have to know what discourages people from hurting you.

Tears well up in my eyes but I don't let them fall. If I do he'll taunt me, both verbally and physically. But as he digs the knife in deeply I cannot refrain from letting out a small cry. He grins with triumph, knowing that he has finally hurt me. He broke me this night and I dread that it will become habit – he will hurt me enough each time until I show weakness. He feeds off my weakness.

I jerk away from the knives, crossing my legs again and sitting forward. My hair, which moved whilst I was changing position cascades forward, loose curls covering my entire face. I smile weakly as it tickles my nose, then give a small sneeze which sends hair flying everywhere. I look up, watching a smile spread across Eric's face. I haven't really seen him smile before, and it seems amazing, that something so stupid like my hair getting in the way would be what made him first properly smile on front of me.

I can only guess that what I have been through is worse than what Eric has – after all, I was lonely too. But seeing as he shows off his muscular arms every day I highly doubt the rest of him is littered with scars like my body is. Surviving in Dauntless is tough when all I can wear are clothes that cover me up fully, and I'm surprised no one has taken to calling me 'stiff' yet. Should I roll up my sleeves, or wear a top that would expose my stomach people would see, people would talk. My main purpose here was to survive – I had no other goal than getting through life, which would be an accomplishment in itself. But what I have done, all I have been through tell me that I have achieved even more than survival, which I so far have under control. I've made friends, I've progressed through my training and I've opened up a tiny bit – be it to someone trustworthy or not. The sense of a win surges through me with every conversation, every laugh that I have had with my newfound friends. They are truly good people.

My hair settles back over my face, but I begin to find it irritating so I push it behind my ear. Eric studies my actions – something I could only expect from a former Erudite, or so I believe. Nobody has actually confirmed that he is from that faction, but I think that my idea is right. I did, after all, get part Erudite on my aptitude test.

"What happens during the emotional stage?" I ask, wanting to break the silence. Eric's eyes bore into mine, a challenge for me to back down and tell him to forget it. He doesn't want to tell me, I can tell, but I'm not going to back down. I want to know exactly what sort of hell they're going to be putting me through so I can prepare for it in advance. That may give me an 'unfair advantage' but I was behind emotionally to start with.

He's debating telling me – I can see it in his eyes. They seem brighter now, less breakable than they did before. It's a better look on him, but I guess everything is just a good look on him.

Wait, what?

"We see inside your mind," Eric says bluntly. My eyes widen – they actually can do that?

My face flushes at the image of Eric seeing inside my mind. There isn't anything that I should shy from showing him – he fills my thoughts only as a friend. It's not like I have weird thoughts about him. However, it's the feeling of guilt you get when you hear that someone has done something wrong, which you know isn't you, but you still have a little doubt in the back of your mind that tells you it could have been you, and that you could have forgotten you did it. I know for sure that I have nothing to hide from in letting Eric into my mind. I guess I'm scared he'll find something he doesn't like, or whatever, that makes him stop wanting to be my friend.

He's the only proper friend I've had, even though I don't even know what's going on between us is friendship. It could just be Eric acknowledging the fact that I'm different, but I would like to maintain the belief that we are real friends. Even if it has just been announced. My friends that I had before my parents died – lots of them, all Amity in their own way – I don't really remember, but I know that they couldn't have been real friends. They ditched me, forgot about me, as soon as I became unhappy. Anyone, anyone at all could have saved me from Alexander and brought a little light into my life if they just paid attention.

Alexander.

I guess I wasn't thinking straight, or was distracted by the distressing thought of Eric being able to see in my mind because I momentarily forgot that I do have something to hide. If Eric sees into my mind – never mind Four – he'll see the beatings, he'll see the scars and he'll know my past. He is going to see the horrors that tormented me day and night. So far all people know of me is that my name is Anna and that I come from Amity. They know my name, not what I've been through. I can't let him find out. He'll judge me. Either that or he'll tell someone. I don't believe that gossip is tame in Dauntless, therefore I can't let anyone know, or everyone will know.

I'm screwed.

"See into my mind? Like, rea my thoughts?" I ask, praying that his answer will be no, or not exactly. I pray that I have misunderstood, that there is another meaning that comes from seeing into someone's mind that preferably doesn't include seeing into someone's mind. I pray that I am wrong.

"Not exactly," He starts, and sweet relief fills my system. But sweet relief quickly turns into sheer horror as he continues. "We get to see your fears. We find out the way you operate. It won't be nice for you, obviously, but it will be interesting to see into your mind and find out what gets you going."

I feel like I have been struck physically. I take Eric's words like a slap to the cheek. The fact that he will find my mind interesting freaks me out, and I wonder why I even trusted this man with part of me in the first place.

"My mind is a dark place, Eric." I say. I watch as his face grows pained, and he looks down, illuminating the dark shadows under his eyes that are a clear sign of his lack of sleep. They look darker and bolder from here, especially with the hurt look on his face. He doesn't look hurt like I was the one who hurt him though, his face is full of regret. Like he feels sorry for me. I almost retch at the pity I feel emanating from him. His lips form a tight line, one that stretches them out completely but still doesn't cover even half the length of his face. He doesn't have a small mouth, like me, but it seems that he can only smile broadly. His grimaces appear like they can't even manage to take over his face. His look of unease at my words reminds me why I did trust him – seeing the broken look that resurfaces now tells me how stupid I was to even question the fact that he was in need of someone.

The conversation ends there, and for another while we sit in the quiet. I tuck my hair behind my ear, tired of constantly having to blow it out of the way of my face or casting it to the side of my head only for it to fall forward again. I groan as the movement of my arm causes my exhausted muscles to protest, and find my eyes closing slowly. I lean against the boxes again, aware of their contents but too tired to care.

"Bitch? Is that you?" Alexander's voice form behind me makes me jump, and I fly round, dreading the anger that I will find in his eyes. Alexander stands in the living room, which I just tried to creep past, unsuccessfully, obviously, a broad smile covering his face. I feel a lump in my throat start to form, gulping at the sudden danger, tangible in the air.

"Why are you late?" He sneers. Normally, it would be a question. But with Alexander, everything is a command. I could choose not to answer a question, but an order is something I must follow. If I don't, pain is guaranteed.

"I – I fell on the way back. I think I twisted my ankle," I say. My voice wavers, and smugness laces his eyes at the idea of me causing pain by myself.

"Then run," He says. "Run around this house ten times and we'll see how your ankle is then. You will run normally, without hobbling."

I search his eyes for any sign of a lie, but find nothing.

I startle awake, hands rushing to my face in my usual check over to see that I have not cried, or that there are no fresh scars on my face that anyone would see. After I am satisfied that no one could see anything on my face I check my arms, rolling up my sleeves and double checking every single bit of skin that is appropriate for any sign that Alexander could have got to me. Nothing is there, nothing except my old scars. I hear a gasp from beside me, and see all my new friends, along with Eric, staring at the scars that litter my skin. I turn around, a fake smile plastered on my face, but ignoring the tears prickling at the back of my eyes. I bite my lower lip, controlling myself from letting out a sob. They saw, they saw my scars and now they're going to leave me.

"Why did you do this?" June asks, "Why would you do such a thing to yourself?" I gape at her. She thinks I did this to myself? The idea is preposterous, a stupid thought that not even the dumbest of Amity would see as reasonable. Eric turns to her, jaw dropped. Surely he must understand that she isn't right. But understanding crosses his face a spit second later, and I feel part of me break at the idea that he would believe her over me. She stretches onto her tip-toes and whispers in his ear. His eyes grow wide.

"Anna," He begins. He walks towards me like he is afraid I will burst, or worried that I will attack him. He treats me like a wounded animal, and I don't want to believe that this is Eric. "We can get you help, we can send you somewhere." His light, calm tone is completely different from his usual heavy, masculine voice that I am so used to now. It sends alarm bells ringing in my mind and I shake my head wildly at him.

"Don't be like that," He says. It's then that I realise how he is talking to me – like I'm a child, like I don't understand what's good for me. I feel anger start to heat up in my stomach and it rises to my cheeks which flush red with rage. I will not be treated like a misunderstood, disobedient child! I stamp my foot and look him in the eye. I try to speak, but find myself unable to as something has stuck my lips together.

"You want to talk?" Eric asks. "No wonder, you didn't want to talk in the first place, so why should you now?" My eyes widen and I feel myself flame up in anger.

I wake up, properly this time. I take in my surroundings for a while before I realize where I am. I am with Eric, in the weapons cupboard.

My hands go to my face as I did in my dreams, but my fingers come away wet. I'm crying, on front of Eric. I feel a stone settle in my stomach and I close my eyes, praying this is another dream. Dauntless don't cry, and this is the epitome of humiliation – crying on front of a Dauntless leader. Especially one that is covering my initiation.

Thankfully for me, if Eric notices the tears he ignores them and doesn't mention them at all.

"Bad dream?" He asks. I nod.

"I'm used to it."