I'm back with a new chapter! And I decided I'm starting my truth or dare tonight just if you want to see it. I made this chapter pretty long as a make-up for not posting in a few months, but here ya go!

I enter the training room, after my little mental episode in the Chasm, only to find the greasy weasel slumped lifelessly against the wall, shining knives for the initiates. I almost gag when I see his ugliness, but decide against it when I see the pure hatred and revenge in his eyes.

"Looks like I'm first to be here. Ain't that something new?" He scowls.

He's such a brat... "Eric just shut up. I beat you in Capture the Flag last night; big deal. Quit your petty whining before you wont be able to say anything else. Ever," I reply.

Oh no, I think as he walks up to me, way too close to be socially acceptable, and snarls in my faces while saying, "I don't care that you won last night, or that you came first in our initiation. I'm still a leader and can beat your ass in a fight if I want to."

"Well then, why don't you already, you rat?"

As soon as he pulls his hand back to punch me, I grab that arm and wrench it behind him, then take his other wrist and hold both his wrists in the same hand behind his back. His onlyoption left is to use his feet, so he tries to speedily kick me in the stomach, but I'm obviously way smarter than him, so I take my free hand and hold it up so he wimpily kicks my hand while I push it back so he looses his balance and falls to the floor with a loud thud.

Bending down, sitting on his stomach, and pressing his skinny arms in the floor above his head so he doesn't get up, I lean in close to his ear and say quietly and calmly, "Don't be such a coward. Win a fight for once, Eric," and spit his name out like dirt.

He just glares at me while I harshly throw him up off the floor and slam my hand into his back between his shoulder blades to send him painfully tripping towards the middle of the room while I lean against the wall on the opposite side of the room. Calling him a coward is the worst insult you can ever give in Dauntless, but I don't care with Eric. He's just a power-hungry, spoiled, nasty brat who doesn't deserve to be a leader of the faction.

I still feel him glaring at me while the initiates start filing in with tired faces and bodies, showing no interest to be here today. At least they're not fighting today, I think.

Then I see Tris. I try not to stare, but it's hardly possible to not look at or think of her today, after what happened last night at capture the flag.

Does she feel the same rush I do when I'm around her? Or touch her? Or even think of her? Does what happened last night really mean she has the same feelings for me? I really hope so. If she doesn't...

Before I have time to finish the thought in my head, I feel Eric glare at me venomously, and I then realize I wasn't even paying attention to what he was saying or doing.

Then, Eric glances at Tris from the corner of his eye for just a millisecond, but long enough for me to catch it. Long enough for me to realize what he thinks.

I just shake my head and glare right back at him with cold, hard, Trainer-Four eyes while mouthing "coward" towards him. I don't care at all that I just called a Dauntless Leader a coward. It's Eric. Period. And I honestly do not feel like dealing with vicious losers like him.

I roll my eyes and zone him out again as he gives me the middle finger behind his back and turns back to the initiates and starts talking again.

He's such a butt.

Before I realize it, Eric calls my name and I silently and boringly walk over to the target, knowing he wants me to demonstrate how to throw a knife.

Because he can't throw a knife without cutting his own hand off, I think. I mentally smile, thinking of Eric in such inflicted pain, as I pick up a blade and stand in front of the target, squaring my shoulders and standing with my legs shoulder-width apart, like I've done so many times before.

Inhale.

Aim.

Exhale.

Throw, I tell myself, and I effortlessly throw the knife out of my hand and into the bullseye of the target in front of me. I repeat the same routine one more time, before Eric yells, "Line up!"

I go back to leaning against the wall I was originally next to while watching my Tris.

My Tris...it sounds so right to think of her as my Tris...

She starts off by practicing without a knife in her hand, obviously noticing that this part of training is more about skill, rather than strength and speed. Everyone else, however, start throwing the knives immediately, and failing miserably. I knew Tris was smart. Especially since capture the flag last night, I've noticed how sensible she is. Maybe she's like me...Maybe she's...Divergent...

I shiver at just the thought of that word. I definitely don't want her to be Divergent; she would be in so much danger, so much harm, and I want to protect her from it. Embrace and shield her in my arms away from every danger, yet I want to know her limits. I want to see how much it will take to break her...

What am I even saying?! I don't even know if she IS IT yet! And I'm saying I want to protect her?! I don't do that! To anyone! Oh I just know, know, I've got myself deep with her...

"I think the Stiff's taken too many hits to the head! Hey, Stiff! Remember what a knife is?" Peter says while interrupting my insane thoughts. Like he should really be talking. I mean that jerk-off hasn't even hit the target yet.

She keeps practicing though,and she ends up hitting the target. The first. To hit the target. SHE'S THE FIRST! I'M SO PROUD!

"Hey, Peter. Remember what a target is?" Tris bites back, and I try to hold in a laugh, but I'm pretty sure I'm letting a small smirk creep on my face.

Time has gone by quickly by me watching Tris the whole time, admiring how she throws the knives. Even though she's not the expert at it, yet, she intrigues me; the way she throws it, her beautiful smile when a knife sticks to the board, the way she walks to retrieve her knives...

OKAY! Time to talk to Lauren about my PROBLEM...

"How slow are you, Candor?!" I hear Eric as he interrupts my thoughts, again. He stands extremely close to Al, almost as close as he was to me an hour ago, and yells in his ear for supposedly not hitting the target. "Do you need glasses? Should I move the target closer to you?"

Al's face turns bright red from embarrassment and tries to throw another knife, but is unsuccessful. It flies through the air to the right, and hits the wall and falls to the floor with a loud clang.

"What was that, initiate?" Eric asks, quiet and gloomy.

"It-It slipped," Al sputters out. For how big he is, he's really a big baby...

"Well, I think you should go get it," Eric replies slyly while the other initiates, including my gorgeous Tris..., have stopped throwing and started staring at the scene before them.

"Did I tell you to stop?" Eric yells, and everyone starts throwing their knives again, but I see Tris throwing them half-heartedly as her friend is getting interrogated by a slimey worm.

"Go get it? But everyone's still throwing," Al says, with worries and scares dancing in his wide, glaring eyes.

"And...?" Eric questions.

"And I don't want to get hit."

"I think you can trust your fellow initiates to aim better than you," he says while giving a small, dreadful smile.

"No," he replies, setting his jaw in place. He might win this with defiance. It shows his Dauntless side.

"Why not?" Eric insinuates while looking greedily on his eyes and face. "Are you afraid?"

"Of getting stabbed by an airborne knife?" Please say no... "Yes, I am!"

WHAT ARE YOU THINKING! This is Dauntless THE BRAVE! They're not suppose to fear! He was so close to getting away, that was so stupid!

"Everybody stop!" Eric yells at everyone, and everyone complies, seeing the anger and fury in his eyes. I can tell this isn't just from Al. This is also from me winning capture the flag, him losing in our "fight" earlier before the initiates came...This is about power. Winning. He can't stand to lose, and me placing first and him placing second in initiation is not helping.

"Clear out of the ring. All except you," Eric says, precise and infuriated while eying Al up and down.

"Stand in front of the target," Eric demands while everyone files away from the targets.

"Hey, Four. Give me a hand here, huh?" he asks me, not even bothering to turn all the way around to look at me. Pitiful, I think. Sadly, I don't fell any emotion towards Eric as he doesn't to me.

I try to act casual by scratching my right eyebrow with the tip of the knife I'm holding in my hand as a walk towards Eric.

"You're going to stand there as he throws those knives, until you learn not to flinch," Eric instructs Al.

Okay, this is getting ridiculous, Eric.

"Is this really necessary?" I question, getting bored from Eric's sick games and starting to get very tired from not sleeping at all last night. And I like my sleep.

Everybody looks shocked, especially Tris, by me challenging Eric this way, straight to his face. Little does she know, I always challenge Eric. Nothing has changed from our initiation. He never punishes me, which is ironic, him being a leader and all. He wants to beat me on a deeper, more emotional level. He wants to break me. And hurting me physically or kicking me out of Dauntless isn't going to hurt me because I was about ready to leave Dauntless, and he knows it.

Eric glares at me silently, and I give and even colder glare right back at him.

"I have the authority here, remember? Here, and everywhere else," Eric says, slowly and quietly. I really pissed him off.

I can't help the blood rushing to my face and my hand clenching around the knife in my hand to turn my knuckles white, yet I hold the same look to Eric I have been holding for a few minutes now. I silently turn to Al and firmly set my jaw in place.

He looks really scared now. Terrified. My aim is perfectly exact, not to brag, so I won't hurt him, if he stops shaking so much in his place in front of the target.

Just as I raise my arm to throw the knife, I hear a familiar voice, a girl's voice, determinedly stopping my movements by saying, "Stop it."

I flip the knife in my hand and clench it even harder, running my fingers over the edge the knife, just not hard enough to draw blood, as I turn to face the speaker of the voice.

Tris.

I know she's smarter than that.

All I give her is a hard, demeaning look, while I really want to run my hands through my hair and scream out in frustration at the girl whose selflessness makes her brave, the girl I want to see break, the girl I'm falling deeply in love for.

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