Yay, another chapter! I don't really have much to say at this point, except thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially the lovely guest who suggested songs to me, it's nice to finally get some playlist love :) Okay, chapter twenty-seven (which I'm not working on quite yet, still on 26, but I know what's going to happen) is The Chapter. Y'know, the one I've had in mind ever since the beginning of this story. I'm really excited to put it up for you guys, and if you're wondering what this means, look to the playlist, and one of the specific songs on it, for more information :P

Breaking The Habit

Chapter Twenty-Five: The Killer

Eric

I should've known this was coming. Asher warned me, in her offhand Asher way. But he doesn't look angry, just looks tired, like me. I shed the jacket and toss it on the floor. "If you're here to yell at me, I'm not in the mood," I warn, taking the shard of mirror-glass off its hook.

He smirks at me, taking in the unshadowed eyes, straight hair, no blood (another sign of Instigate abuse) leaking from the holes that my piercings fit into. "Progress meeting?"

"Unfortunately." I take two brown bottles from the hole behind the mirror, one large and one small—one of liquor, one of Instigate. I toss the liquor to him and pull out the syringe box. "You don't mind, do you?" I ask, holding it up.

"Would it make any difference if I did?"

"Probably not." I grin a little. It feels foreign on my face. "So if you're not here to yell at me," I say, sitting on the bed and motioning for him to sit next to me, "then why are you here?"

"I don't know." He lowers himself onto the mattress with a barely-suppressed groan. I can tell by the way he holds himself that he's injured. "To call a truce, I suppose. You and Asher were good to me during initiation, and I don't like fighting with either of you. Besides, I can't control what you do."

"Yet." I make my voice as flat and lifeless as possible in mockery of Jeanine, but it's hard to hide my laughter. "But until I can, you will do what I say."

"Wow. Did she really tell you that?"

"Almost word for word."

The laughter dies out and we're sitting there in silence as I flick the syringe against my arm, making small cuts. It's a good kind of pain, a distracting kind. "Asher beat the shit out of you, didn't she?" I eye his stiff posture.

He laughs a little. "She did, or else I would've been here earlier. I could barely move." Another awkward pause. "You know she would do anything for you."

My throat is tight with guilt and fear. Would I return the favor? "I know."

He sighs and stands up, managing to do so in a way that looks incredibly painful, would make me ache for him if there was room for any more ache in my body. "Well, I'll leave you to it," he says, heading for the door. "Just because I've accepted I can't change you doesn't mean I have to watch. So long, Your Leadership." He salutes me and shuts the door, leaving me—at last—on my own.

I stare at the syringe in my hand, the bottle of Instigate on my lap, and feel a sudden disgust for myself. For the first time I see clearly what he means by being mad at me. I can deal with the fact that I'm wrecking my own life. I never had much of a future anyway. But I'm affecting everyone I know—Asher, Ivoree, David. Christina. I hate to admit it, but I have to. I push the box out of my lap and it lands on the floor. The bottle I am more careful with, setting it upright. I never said I was perfect. I can't just quit, that's not how this kind of addiction works. Instead I lay back and, though I don't mean to, lose myself in memory for the first time since Christina and I first met in the hallway.

I am seventeen, trembling and terrified. Every other Dauntless is gathered in the Pit, but I am separate, in a room a couple stories up. The four leaders crowd around me—their fifth just died the same way Cr—I can't say her name—did. Apart from them, a little nearer to the door, is my mother, looking almost pleased. I can't imagine why. It can't possibly have anything to do with me. Everyone knows I was just a publicity stunt…

"Eric." Max stands in front of me. He's kind enough, at least, not to say Eric Matthews, for which I am grateful. "Jeanine" —again, not your mother— "said you would cooperate, and for your sake I hope that's true. You're familiar with the Divergent, I'm sure?"

"Yes," I say slowly, confused. "But…they're just a story, aren't they?" I'd been told about them, of course. The idea of people who could fit into more than one faction was a little too far-fetched for me.

He runs a hand through gray-flecked hair. "I wish I could tell you they were just a story, but they aren't. The Divergent are very real, and they want to take over and destroy every bit of order we've created. We've taken it upon ourselves to exterminate them. In fact, we recently got rid of one in your pack of initiates."

But…the only initiate to die was…

No.

"We need you to join us as a conspirator…as a Dauntless leader. We believe you would be an invaluable asset to us."

No not my girl not my Christian they killed her why did they do it oh god it hurts they killed her killed me killed her.

"So what do you say?"

I'll kill them all.

I don't say it out loud. Instead I nod, face grave, and shake his outstretched hand. In a few minutes he will take me out to the Pit and introduce me to the screaming writhing mass of the people I don't want to rule…

"Eric!"

I sit bolt upright, startled into tenseness. The door's been unlocked—how?—and in the frame stands Four. This is the first time I've seen him genuinely concerned about anything, and if it's in my presence, it can't be good.

"What?"

"It's Al. He threw himself into the chasm."