Hey guys, I don't mean to ramble this time. I just wanted to thank all of the wonderful people who leave reviews and who continue to read my story. I'm very grateful. Don't worry, as soon as the real stuff comes out it'll be so much more fun. Until then, enjoy x

"Listen up assholes, because I want today to be over and done with before Al can let another yawn out of his big mouth," yells Eric, wincing at the sound of his deafening, hot roar. He is still quite hungover after yesterday. When I walked in this morning, his head seems like it's killing him so much that he is close to tears. We really should be careful today around him.

"Knife-throwing," he continues, pausing as he squints his eyes, probably hoping that in that way it'll rid him of the regret and pain of last night's fun.

"One of the hardest methods that we will be teaching you as Dauntless trainers," continues Four- the amused glint in his eyes giving away the humor he finds within Eric's suffering. "This is a blade," he holds up a beautiful, silver knife, twirling it gracefully around his fingers.

"Your posture will definitely affect whether the blade will fall onto the floor or hit the target. Dauntless like to use the spinning technique whilst knife-throwing. This means that the knife will rotate during flight. Now don't get too relaxed because it's not as easy as it sounds. Make slights adjustments to the placement of the knife in your hand; or the way you choose to throw it. If you choose to hold closer to the blade, it's going to make a half spin. If however, you choose to hold it by the handle, it'll make a full spin. Like this," he lifts his arm behind his head and throws the knife with unimaginable force- sticking the blade in the dead center of the target. I open my mouth, shocked. I hear Eric chuckle behind Four as he stares at my gobsmacked expression, before grunting in agony, holding his head. I smirk. Serves him right.

"Begin!" Four yells. Rapidly, we all shuffle towards the table, each grabbing three or so knives before standing in front of individual targets. Mine is nicely situated closely next to where Eric was groaning. I take my time, carefully re-watching Four's movements in my mind. I get into position, lifting my arm up just the way he did it and throw. My knife lands nowhere near my target. I sigh and attempt it once more. Once again, anger shakes within me.

"You need to put pressure over here; and try to hold your breath while you're throwing. That'll keep you steady," I hear someone murmur behind me as I feel his hands wrap around my waist. I turn to look up, only to realize that it was Four. I jump, completely startled and disappointed at the same time. I quickly conceal my fluster of negative responses to his touch as I nod indifferently, resuming my position, facing my target. Carefully lifting my blade up, inhaling and exhaling sharply.

"That's it, now hold your breath and let go," he whispers, his hands still on my waist. I throw. SLAM! My blade is twitching and swaying as it stays stationary in the center of my target. Happiness arouses within me.

"Excellent Tris, keep going," Four squeezes my shoulder before walking away. I hear a murderous growl coming from Eric. Turning to face him, I see him glaring menacingly at Four's retreating figure. If looks could kill, he would be six feet under by now.

He catches my gaze, and his features visibly soften up. He smirks at me before leaping off the boulder he was once sitting on. I return his cute gesture before returning to my task. Once more, I follow Four's instructions- causing my second knife to collide with the thick, wooden skin of my battered target.

"You're pretty good at this," Christina whispers beside me, before she herself propels her blade through the air, generating it to enter her target's close center.

"I could say the same thing about you," I laugh.

All of a sudden, I feel a familiar set of calloused hands clutch my waist possessively. I immediately relax as I inhale his manly cologne, feeling butterflies shoot around in my stomach. Next thing I feel is him leaning close to my ear.

"Next time he gets so close to you, that'll be the last time he would ever touch a woman," he growls voluptuously, making me shudder. He chuckles, releasing me slowly as he walks away triumphantly. That was until he halts behind Al. By now, everyone has successfully hauled a knife towards the target, either making it stick or just scraping the target's surface. Except for Al. He isn't even trying his best.

"What the fuck was that?" glowers Eric, making Al jump slightly.

"It slipped," he spat back out, taking Eric aback. Out of all the days he could act up against him; he chose the day in which Eric is hungover and more pissed than usual. I bite my lip as I- as well as all of the other souls in the room- wait in anticipation for Eric's next move. Instead of lashing out at Al, he simply stares at him, malevolently. As Al visibly flinches under his icy glare, Eric finally decides the rip apart the silence built around us.

"Since you've finally decided to toughen up, let's see how you can deal with being the target, shall we? Four gimme a hand here," he calmly responds, before shifting to the side, making space for Four to take his old position.

"Go stand in front of the target," he adds, his voice dripping with venom. Reluctantly, Al goes.

"You're going to stand there while Four throws knives at you; and if I see you flinch; you're out. Here you will learn how to follow orders," he grins deviously. Picking up three knives, Four rolls his eyes.

"Is this really necessary?" He mutters, loud enough for Eric to hear him.

"Spare me the lecture Four and follow the orders," he yells, clutching his head once more as he shakes the pain away. We stare as Four uplifts his arm once more.

"Stop." All eyes turn to face me, withholding equally surprised looks as I do. I gulp before turning to the extremely-pissed-off Eric.

"Anyone can stand in front of a target. That doesn't prove anything," I state, feeling the tension his grey eyes carry.

"Well then...it should be easy for you...to take his place then," he narrows his eyes. It's as if his eyes were the only things from his whole physique begging for me to decline. I huff as I begin sauntering towards the target.

"There goes that pretty face of yours Stiff, oops, wait you never had one," snickers Peter and his lackeys.

"Shut the fuck up before I make you and anyone else laughing run around the entire compound until your legs give out!" bellows Eric, before altering his stare towards me. I continue walking towards the target.

"Thank you," mouths Al, forcing me to pull another fake smile as I cringe again.

Upon reaching my destination, I twist, propping up against the target. I am so short that the center rings stand over my head like a halo of misery and bad luck.

"If you flinch Tris, Al is taking your place. Understood?" Eric sighs through his structured, clenched jawline.

"Ready?" Four asks, earning a sarcastic nod from me. The force of the hit is so strong that it makes me along with the whole target shudder. After three more knives are swiftly thrown my way, one even going as far as catching my ear; Eric growls loudly yelling once more.

"Alright get the fuck out. Make sure you go to bed earlier than normal. Trust me when I tell you that you'll need it," he smirks, eyes glinting with excitement. I wait until everyone, including Four- who has not stopped apologizing- leave before turning abruptly to face Eric's back. I open my mouth, but no words escape. I have legit nothing to say to him. I spin around and start walking towards the door, feeling the tears burn my eyes.

"Tris wait." I feel mitigation rush through my vessels, forcing my heart to pump up more oxygen as my breath hitches in my throat. Why does he have so much power over me?

"What?" I growl, not daring to meet his dominant glare. I don't realize that one of the bitter tears has escaped until his rough fingers catches it. Looking up at his eased-from-the-stress traits, I scowl, shutting my eyes.

"I'm so tired of your mood swings Eric. I really can't keep up. Twenty minutes ago you were acting all jealous over the fact that Four was taking away my personal space. And ten minutes ago? You were just staring as Four hauled knives at me. He could have hit me harder," I exclaim, frustrated at his calculating look.

"Four is the best knife-thrower in Dauntless. It's not like I made Peter throw knives at you. And I wasn't...jealous." he scoffs.

"I don't know what to think. Can you judge me for labeling you as jealous when you're acting like this?" I imply, amplifying my voice.

"Acting like what Tris?" I could hear the irritation in his raised up voice.

"I don't know! This!" I yell, wavering at the space between us. He stops and shakes his head, biting his lip. And then he explodes.

"WHAT'S UP WITH YOU STIFFS ALWAYS THINKING THAT THERE IS MORE TO THE STORY? NOTHING. IS. GOING. ON. WITH. THIS," He shouts at the top of his lungs. But that spark in his eyes again; they betray the lies in his words. Maybe I'm just stupid and thought too much over it. He might be right. I pray that he doesn't mean it.

Without muttering a single word, I sprint out of the training room, traveling to nowhere in particular. I just want to get away from the thoughts of him. I can't. Oh God, I can't.

"Tris," I hear a muffled shout coming from the training room, but my weeps of heartbreak have already taken over.