Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent

Chapter Twelve

I give Tori a quick hug before heading off to breakfast. It's 6:45, so I have enough time. My feet click against the cold stone floor, and I shiver. I only had a tank top and leggings on. In my mindless haze, I had forgotten to bring a jumper. For a potential Erudite, I can be stupid sometimes…

I enter the hall to the cacophony that is known as Dauntless. Smiling to myself, I run forward and snag the last muffin. My eyes sweep the room, picking up details in sharp clarity. I quickly spot Uriah, seeing as he's the one who has a pie all over his face, and rush over to them.

As I sit down, I see Marlene licking a bit of pie off Uriah.

"Eww, Marlene! You don't know where he's been!" I yell.

"Yes I do!" she blushes.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a resident stalker here at Dauntless!" Lynn shouts.

A few people turn, but once they see who it is, they laugh and shake their heads.

I wolf down the muffin, and race off to training. I make it in with 1 minute to spare.

"Today, initiates, we will have fights again," Four calls out.

I wonder who I'm going to be paired with. I know that Four can see my hatred of the horrible quartet (now including Al) but will he act on it? I suppose that makes the difference. I look up in time to see the board flicker on. I am paired with… Molly. This is going to be fun!

"Molly, Molly, Molly, how much fun can we have?" I sing.

Why did Four do this for me? He has no reasons, really. I've never done anything for him – only for myself, actually. So, as you can tell, this is rather unexpected. But rather exciting, if I may say so myself!

"Will and Drew!"

I watch on maliciously as my friend beats the carrot-haired boulder to pebbles. Inwardly I laugh at this joke, telling myself, very punny! This just cracks me up more and now I am smiling. Uh-oh, do I look like a certain sadistic creep called Eric?

Shrugging, I make my way over to congratulate Will. He won, only sporting a bruise on his upper arm where Drew got in a lucky hit.

Soon, I hear, "Tris and Molly!"

I grin savagely as I make my way to the ring. The small group of initiates parts before me, while Molly has to push her way through. They know proper respect, I smile.

I step onto the platform, and relax. If I'm going to beat her anyway, why not have fun while at it? I start to cower into myself, putting on an act of weakness. Slumped shoulders and shuffling feet portray it exactly- until you look at my eyes.

The window to the soul, they call them. Well, if someone looked at my soul – oh wait, that's right! I don't have one!

Molly saunters in confidently, mouth pulled into a gruesome smile full of wonky teeth. It almost gives me shivers how ugly she is.

"Start, initiates!" Four tells us loudly.

I let Molly throw the first hit. Swaying, I dodge the hit to my head by millimetres.

"Is the stiff too afraid to move?" she cackles.

That. Is. It.

I am unaware when I start growling. Her eyes widen nervously as I grin like a lion. A hungry lion. Teeth bared, I launch myself into a flurry of kicks and punches. She never saw it coming.

"Did you say something? Cause you look a little… scared!" I smirk.

It's true. She's gulping nervously, eyebrow twitching and –

I dodge her hit to my face. It slightly brushes my cheek. More like a tickle than a punch.

"Oh! Ha ha! You just found my tickle spot!" I fake laugh.

I again start up my vortex of hits, eventually taking mercy after beating her to a bloody pulp. She starts struggling to get up, but I'm not having any of it. With a roundhouse kick to the head, she is unconscious.


Everyone around me is staring at me – some nervous, some amazed. I just don't get it! Are Abnegation automatically meant to be weak? Why can't they just believe that I'm strong? I've been working my butt off to get here, why won't they acknowledge it?

Training has just been dismissed. I can feel myself radiating pure anger and hatred at others, so I can't go near them. Too many insulting things I could say accidentally. That's the problem – sometimes, when I get really emotional, I can go on auto-pilot. Going round, doing things that I don't want to do. It's not my fault, is it? I can't control it…

I haul a punching bag onto the hook, noticing how I carry it with ease now. Wow, I'm getting stronger! Maybe this'll prove all those people wrong. I am hitting the bag with all my pent-up rage.

This is for thinking of me as weak. Punch. This is for calling me stiff. Punch. This is for mocking me! Punch. This – Is – For – ME! Punch.

The bag has split open. I can see the insides spilling out.

Behind me, there is a squeak of shoes on the floor. I whip round to find –


I'm really sorry guys for this pitiful chapter - there will be one tomorrow! Sorry for the cliffie :P

Thanks to you all!

Sayonara,

MG