Hey everyone! Life has been everywhere so I had to take a short break. But for now I think I'm back on track. And it really does feel good! Here's another chapter coming your way! Hope you enjoy it x
That night I daze into a restless battle of sleep, sobbing. After running out of that training Purgatory, filled with the presence of the Devil himself- I chose not to eat, meet or talk to anyone but my own irrational thoughts. Four passed me at one point- questioning my swelled up, red eyes that could not even compare to the swelling I sensed around my heart. It hurts every single time I intake a short breath. After a few agitated and enduring hours of rolling around in my uncomfortable cot, I feel a veil of darkness pull me in.
Not long after, the same sound of the connection of metal and the cot's edge from the first morning here, pulls me out of my dreamless nightmare. I look up at the clock.
12:00 am.
"Alright assholes you've got five minutes to put on your training attire and a warm jacket. We're going on a trip." I dare not look up and meet his blazing grey eyes that can sweep me off my feet and dominate my senses. But with that comes the price of experiencing fear and to him is like having a conversation with a wall. It's a one-sided thing. At least that's how I feel. I leap out, shoving past Peter and intentionally shaking out of the leader's firm grasp around my tiny wrist. I turn to face his tired yet still hot features- feeling the tears prickle through my narrowed eyes. He seems really taken aback. He bites his lip before bowing his head shamefully. I snort. Can the ruthless Dauntless leader really feel pain?
The five minutes following pass in a blur and I am soon standing still- surrounded by my fellow transfers and the group of Dauntless-born initiates- panting as I try to catch up with the pace of my beating heart after sprinting and jumping into the last compartment. I meet Four's hungry brown eyes as I feel a small smile creep across my lips as a silent thank you for his selfless gesture. He had pulled me in; just as I felt my short legs give up next to the moving train. My eyes skim through the moving hallway until they halt at the image of Eric. He is glaring at Four. His stone-dead frown was the exact same one he wore when Four helped me out during our knife-throwing lesson. And just as it happened back then, his eyes met mine, immediately diminishing anything dangerous from that frightful frown. I bite my lip, so forcefully to the point where I could taste the strong coppery taste of my own blood in my mouth. He frowns again, but this time it's different. Worry?
I huff and turn around, afraid that I could unintentionally let out more tears- proving to everyone that I am a Stiff, and a big one in that matter.
"Listen up imbeciles," Eric bellows, his hoarse voice vibrating within the cores of the large compartment, but also inside my stomach.
"We're going to play Capture the Flag. Two teams...Four and I are captains. Losers pick first," declares Eric, casting a humorously dark expression towards Four as he slaps his back a little too forcefully. This earns him a pair of rolling eyes.
"Edward."
Eric nods reluctantly, seeming that he wanted Edward on his own team since he is the best out of all of us. His stormy eyes start browsing through the compartment, his contortion calculating. That is all replaced with a huge smirk when his eyes land on me. I gulp loudly.
"Tris." Awkwardly, I shuffle to stand next to his broadly muscular figure. Just as I reach him, the uneven tracks of the train decide to shift too quickly; causing me to shove into Eric. I cling onto his black Dauntless jacket, sensing the arrival of butterflies in my stomach. Someone around us clears their throat, causing me to slowly open my eyes; only to see myself leaned into Eric, tightly gripping onto his side, whilst his hand was snaked possessively around my waist. I feel my cheeks heat up as I rapidly pull away from his grip, but still standing relatively close to him. Four calls out a name; followed by Eric doing to same thing. I block out their voices and fall into a daydream of how I'm thinking of cracking Eric open. I frown at myself. I should be focusing on passing training and winning this game, but instead I'm standing next to the asshole that can twirl me around his little finger, and I'm planning things that will probably never happen.
"Alright now that we've split you up, let's go over the rules," remarks Eric, the glint of excitement in his eyes shared by anyone who has been in Dauntless from before the Choosing Ceremony.
"The game is simple, we're going to jump out of the train at two different destinations. The point is that each team has one flag they have to protect. If the other team gets a hold of your flag, you lose, and trust me, you don't want to be on the losing team," scoffs out Four, his eyes judging each and every one of the players on his enemy's team.
During his little speech, going over the rules, Eric pulls out a bag full of paintball guns.
"Weapon of choice, paintball gun."
Peter snorts.
"I thought we're going to use something more powerful..." Eric rolls his eyes, points the gun to Peter's groin and shoots. There is a large bang as Peter yells in excruciating pain as he drops to the floor, desperately holding onto his wounded area. Eric along with the Dauntless-born initiates all chuckle knowingly at his stupid remark.
"These are high pressured paintball guns. A normal paintball gun can pretty much just bruise you badly. But this baby," he grins lifting up his gun, "Oh no, this over here can rip through delicate tissue if the right mode is turned on. We've set them up onto medium so most of yous' are most likely to sport some pretty severe bruises if you're on the wrong team," he beams, pointing his gun towards the array of initiates scuttled behind Four.
Time flies by just like the scenery beyond the compartment walls, and soon after, Eric yells out:
"My team, be ready to jump in a few minutes." We all proceed to walk towards the open door. Me being the tiniest, I seem to be the only one who is having some issues gripping onto the gun. I stand there, next to the open door, camouflaged by unknown Dauntless faces- since Eric picked all of the Dauntless-born...and me. Just as I am about to leap out, I feel a forceful shove from a foreign to my consciousness hand. I squeak loudly, feeling my developing muscles thrusting me out of the train. That is; until the familiar calloused hand of my dearest Dauntless leader fits perfectly around my waist, dragging my falling body back into his chest. I cough as I try to stifle a cry. Looking up, I see Eric's blazing scorched stare send daggers towards my favorite human being in the whole world. Peter. He was facing us both, his smug face leaving an expression that just doesn't fit with his previous girly weeps of pain when Eric shot him.
"Initiate, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Eric's voice was dangerously quiet. One thing scares me more than him screaming. Him being calm in situations like this. It feels like he is playing around with his prey before ripping his throat out.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Responds Peter. Eric growls, his grip tightening around my waist even more. I coil my trembling hand around his wrist; gently painting invisible figures of unknown lines and swirls. He seems to calm down a little, but not to the point where he isn't threatening. Swiftly, with the blink of an eye, he's out of my reach and has his hand around Peter's throat. I can tell he isn't letting him off easily by the pale white shade of his knuckles, and the deep purple color painting Peter's face as he struggles to breathe. No one dares speak up, no one dares to breath, no one dares to move.
"Don't act stupid with me initiate," he spits out, stiffening his grip around his prey's neck even more as every second passes.
"One more time you piss me off like this, and I will personally throw you under the moving train. Trust me when I tell you how easy the paperwork for 'an accident involving a depressed initiate' is." I shiver. But once again, his threats seem to pull me towards his protective embodiment even more.
Letting him go, Eric grabs my hand and hauls us out of the moving train. He doesn't even stop us to wait for the group of team mates following us. Instead, he clenches his jaw thoughtfully before yelling:
"My team: find a good hiding spot for the flag and try and locate Four's team. I have shit to discuss with the Stiff." They all seemed unimpressed until he finishes his sentence. And with that, they sprint into the unknown darkness of the opposite direction. I begin trying to grapple my way out of his painfully grasping reach, before he abruptly lets go, making me plummet to the ground with a small groan. He chuckles before lifting me up again, like the rag-doll that I have become in his hands. I look up into his turbulent eyes, staring at the pain they withhold once more. What the fuck is bothering him so much?!
"Tris," he hums, stepping closer. "We need to talk."