A/N: Here I am again, with another OC story featuring a muscled, dominating and sexy man. Not that I have a type, lmao. Some of the original story has been changed just to make this make more sense, and as a twenty-something I find it weird to write about teenagers, so I've changed the ages of the Choosing Ceremony and other characters to make it fit. I hope you guys enjoy this story so I can keep writing it! I'm aware since Divergent is a lot older now than when I first read it that this sort of story has been done before, but please keep at it as I hope you guys will enjoy the slightly different take this will be.

Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own Divergent. Or Eric.

I felt the ache behind my eyes signaling to me that my attempts at sleep had been a waste. Tried as I might, I tossed and turned all night, staring out the window next to my bed at the sea of blue around me. The walls twinkled evilly, the light blue making me feel sick. These four walls had haunted me, goaded me. I felt a twinge of pain as I shifted in bed, and shut my eyes tight hoping it would go away.

There was a knock at the door, and I sat up as quickly as my body would allow to watch as my mother, Mary, waltzed into the room without a care in the world. I knew that this was just a mask, a fake character she had created for purposes of hiding the real person behind it. Not a mother, but a scientist, an Erudite who only cared for hypothesising and proving herself the smartest in the room. My father, Steven, was the same, if a bit more aggressive about it. About everything, really.

"We want to make sure we get good seats this year. I've heard a few rumours of some interesting and promising candidates transferring to us this year, and of course we need enough time to say hello to everyone."

Again, all she cared about was appearances, other than her work. I watched as she pulled out my clothes for that day, a smart blue shirt and dark blue trousers. I watched as she eyed the trousers with a frown, stretching out the waistband. My mother didn't like to admit I didn't take after her, with her perfectly pinned, blonde hair and thin waist connected to long, willowy legs. I had heard time and time again that I must have gotten my short height, round hips and dark hair from someone on my father's side, someone who transferred and was cut from the family. Both sides were Erudite through and through, not a single transfer either to or from the faction, though there must have been one or two, like she said. Whatever my mother tried, whether it was forcing me to run laps until I collapsed, or diets that had me fainting, the weight stayed on like I was an Amity, forcing serum-loaded carbs into my mouth at every meal. It wasn't until someone told me to hate my body that I did, and as she continued stretching the waistband of the trousers I knew would still be too small on me, I felt that flicker of upset, the sick anxiety in my stomach, crescendo into anger.

She left me to dress, and I rode the wave of anger that was rocking my body. I wasn't an angry person - living in this house, it was dangerous to show how I truly felt to my parents, about them or their work, how I felt about myself. I would sometimes allow myself to cry at night, when I knew they couldn't hear me, but I never really gave in to those feelings. I had learnt from when I was a child, just barely thirteen years old, when my parents finally told me what they did, and showed it to me in the worst of ways. Showing emotion wasn't Erudite, and neither was it the Staines way.

I mused on this as I dressed, feeling the clothes stick to my body like cling film. I thought about my anger, my feelings and fears, and how surprised I was when I finally let go in the aptitude test not a day ago.

I had had a nice Dauntless woman help me with the test. Tori, I think her name was. She had jet-black hair, fierce eyes but a kind smile. She had told me what to expect, to make sure I was confident in my choices and to not hold back. It wouldn't help me to not make the correct choices for myself, so I followed her advice. I was always much more of a reader or a listener than a loud and proud Erudite like most of the kids at school. I had obviously not expected Erudite - though I loved to read, I didn't have that drive for education and research that most of my peers had - nor factions like Amity or Candor. I had honestly expected Abnegation, the spineless, selfless faction; though it did not sound a happy life. I was desperate for an escape. Even the grey, drab clothing that the stiffs wore would be a welcome break from the blue tones of my home faction, and honestly I thought I could live a good life focusing on taking care of others, losing myself to the selfless acts the faction undertook.

So when the tables turned up in front of me, I didn't realise I had picked up the knife, feeling the weight of it in my hands, and didn't blink an eye when the dog came at me and I brought the knife in front of me on reflex. To be honest, as an Erudite - someone who was born to think logically and rationally, to see the information in front of me and deduce conclusions from it - I should have not been surprised when my test came back Dauntless.

But that wasn't me. I was just following instructions.

There was no way I wouldn't think I wasn't a cowardly piece of shit, the thoughts practically my own mantra by now, or what my father told me. "Uneducated, cowardly, pathetic," were his exact words. I thought them over and over in my head.

Dauntless. Fearless, brave, strength in a bottle. I couldn't even look in the mirror without wanting to hurl at the reflections of my parents staring back at me.

I didn't tell anyone the true outcome of the test. Tori seemed to understand, or at least tried to, my reaction when I started shaking and sobbing. She held me for a moment, enveloping me in that strength that came naturally to Dauntless. I felt strong and powerful in her arms, and then the world came crashing down on me again. So many years, feeling afraid, never feeling like I was good enough for my parents. Always coming home fearful to their reaction at another failed test, or worse a low score. Failing seemed to be a better option, than purely just not being good enough to match my classmates' scores. Now what was I supposed to do? Pretend I was an Erudite, endure the monotony of the faction, the fear and terror in my parents' house; transfer to Abnegation, or even Amity, and live my life out in fear, constantly watching my back to see if my parents had found me. Or should I do what I had been told to do; to choose Dauntless, and run away from it all?

This tirade of self-deprecating and fearful thoughts continued round and round in my head through breakfast - though I didn't have the stomach to eat, which unsurprisingly made my mother happy - and through the journey to the Hub. The auditorium was a large, circular room, made to fit that year's intake of eighteen year olds and their parents for the Choosing Ceremony. I felt my father's hand on my shoulder, holding me like a vice, parading me round as they said hello to their colleagues and friends. Some eyed me cautiously; I knew at least one or two of their colleagues had an idea of their research, and I saw the pity reflected in their eyes. I didn't even know Erudites could feel pity.

We took seats in the blue section, reminding me of the sea and making me feel seasick. I had only seen pictures, of course, but nonetheless the colour gave me nothing but pain. My father's grip had moved its way onto my wrist, feeling like shackles.

I watched as Marcus Eaton took the stage, making some sort of speech as he did as Leader of our government. There had been rumours a couple years ago of his own son transferring, with some in Erudite spreading round that he had beaten his child, that he was wrong to be our leader despite his Abnegation faction. I watched the man, charm oozing from him, as if he enjoyed being in front of all of us. The feeling of my father's fingers tightening around my wrist, watching this man parade in front of us as if he didn't enjoy it, honestly I thought I would burst. Into tears or screams, I didn't know. But it fuelled me up until the moment my father shook my arm like a rag doll. I had zoned out throughout the entire alphabet, and had hardly heard my name called out. Steven released my wrist, and I cradled it close to me in case he tried to snatch it again. As I walked down to the stage, I met Marcus Eaton's eyes. He eyed my wrist, where there was a slight red mark, hungrily. I only noticed it since I had forced myself to read people; I had pretty much no friends at school, and as someone who was afraid of being home, I had made it so that I could tell when my parents were in a mood, or itching to prove a new hypothesis right. I didn't like that look, and I felt the anger overtake me again.

My hands were sweating when I picked up the knife, I was so afraid I'd drop it or it wouldn't be able to slice through my hand. I gingerly held it, feeling that same weight I had in the sim, and pressed the tip into my palm. Blood pooled in my hand, and for a brief moment, the anger in my chest turned to white-hot fear.

What should I do? Erudite, Abnegation, Dauntless? My eyes flickered between the bowls, for what felt like hours but in reality was a few seconds. Fear, terror, what could be worse than that? Then the image of the Dauntless running through the city, the way they were laughing and playing with each other when we had entered the auditorium. It took a second before I realised I had dropped my blood onto the steaming coals, and the cheers from the black side of the hall erupted. I was dragged to them, clapped on the back and even hugged while some chanted my name. It wasn't rare that an Erudite would transfer to Dauntless; it happened more often than not, but it was still a happy day when someone decided to.

I didn't turn around, didn't look back to see my parents. I didn't need to see the disappointment on Mary's face, nor the rage and fury on Steven's for my disobedience. I had ruined the family, their reputation, and most importantly, took some of their secrets with them.

I knew I wasn't safe; not yet, not until I knew they couldn't get to me. But as I started to follow the Dauntless out of the building as the Ceremony ended, I could feel those holes on my back burning less and less, until I was outside and running alongside the other Initiates. My new family.

I was free.