Thank youuuuu to BK2U for editing this chapter for me! Happy Halloween everyone!

"Why were you down there?"

I ask her again, scooting closer to her so she's sort of trapped on the bench unless she wants to fall off. I'm not sure why it's so important I know why she — specifically she — was taken down there. But it feels imperative somehow, burning in my brain as she looks away from me, her stare falling to the plate on the table. I wait impatiently, shifting closer to her until my knee touches her leg.

"Violet, you can tell me."

I say the words lowly through gritted teeth, trying to sound nice. I fail miserably, mostly because I'm not nice, and I'd much rather hiss the words at her. If she were an initiate, I'd snarl them in her face, backing her up until she was pressed against a wall and then holding her stare until she caved in.

Here, my options are limited. I lean in closer, repeating them in the same low tone, though really, no one is listening to us. Bobby has long since become distracted by the overcooked meatloaf, and Bella is loudly whispering that she saw me outside with Pete and how wrong it was that I was there. One seat over is Pete, loudly ignoring her by making a tower out of breadsticks, one that reaches a terrifying height for something made out of garlic bread.

"Aidy, hand me that peanut butter so I can glue this together," he instructs enthusiastically, elbowing Bella as he reaches across her. "Thank you."

"Violet," I snap, and this time she looks directly at me.

"It was…it was just something that they'd do if they thought you needed it. I didn't ask to go down there," she finally answers me, and the expression on her face looks defeated. "I didn't want to go. But I don't think they'll take you there. It's a little…outdated."

"Outdated?"

"Erudite has come up with far better methods. They consider it sort of…barbaric. But you don't need it. You're too…it's just not what they'd do to you, okay? It's for people with real problems."

Her words are bothersome; maybe it's the fact that she's thought about what sort of treatment I do deserve that irritates me. I try to figure out what she means by real problems, but I've got nothing, except a feeling of burning annoyance that she thinks I don't have real problems.

Being stuck here is certainly a real problem.

"It hurt. Every time. They always promised it wouldn't, but it did. Sometimes, you couldn't remember what happened, and sometimes you could. If you could remember, it was worse." She pauses, then bites her lip, and I recognize the second where she seems to collapse into herself. "They only did it if you were out of control, if they thought they couldn't control you with serum."

She stops, and the room seems to buzz around us as we stare at each other. I try to catalogue everything she's told me, though I can't think of a single reason why this girl would need to have her brain shocked by volts of electricity.

"Okay," I answer, swallowing heavily, and for once, I can't think of anything else to say. We lapse into silence, despite the noise around us.

"Hey, uh, you guys gonna eat that toast? Or are you just gonna sit and have some deep, intellectual conversation over there?" Aidy interrupts after what feels like an hour, reaching for my plate without warning.

Neither of us answer her, not even when she takes it away, nor when Pete's tower of breadsticks comes crashing down, peanut butter and all.

"Everything here is safe, calm, and peaceful. Your eyes may feel heavy and want to close. Let your body sink naturally down as your muscles relax. Listen to what your body is telling you, but remember, you are in complete control of this time. You will only accept those suggestions which are for your benefit and that you are willing to accept."

I stare at Dr. Erin, hating her with every fiber of my being.

I left lunch feeling so unlike myself that it hurt. I wanted to punch at something until my hands bled. I needed to move, to run or scream or shoot, anything other than remain locked up here. Instead, I was nearly tackled by an orderly, taken to Dr. Erin, and told to head into her office.

Once there, I sat down, and I was briefly informed that I was going to make up the therapy session I'd missed earlier. I then decided that this would be an easy throwaway hour, a bullshit therapy session that I would breeze through. I figured I would spew a few details at her that she liked — something about progress, something about change, maybe even asking what I could do to get a pair of real shoes. It would pacify her enough that she'd think I was trying, and I'd be one step ahead of the game.

Instead, she pointed to a chair and told me to sit down and get ready for something she'd been meaning to try. Fifteen minutes later, she was sitting across from me, speaking in this low and even voice, and she told me we were going to try something new.

She was going to hypnotize me.

I smirked.

It sounded stupid, but I had to admit there was a spark of fear burning when I realized it wasn't entirely farfetched. We had serums powerful enough to induce a hallucinogenic state, so fucking with my mind wasn't entirely out of the question.

I just didn't think it would work without a serum.

But the longer I sat there, the more she seemed to wear me down. Eventually, her monotonous tone made my eyes close, and I felt myself leaning back against the couch, my mind slowly growing blank as she repeated her mantra over and over.

I heard her speak one more time, her voice soft and gentle as she instructed me to listen to her and only her, before everything went black.

"Eric, are you okay?"

The words are gently whispered at me as I push my palms flat against my face, trying to force myself to wake up.

"Eric."

The voice whispers again as the bed dips slightly. I sit up and open my eyes to total darkness, impatiently waiting for my eyes to adjust against the black swirl. The room is hot and uncomfortable, and panic works its way up, inch by inch, until I can feel it in my chest.

"What the…"

"Eric!" Violet whispers urgently, and I realize she's kneeling right beside me.

The room suddenly returns to focus as if it had been lit up like the inside of the Pit during happy hour. I can see her clearly now, her hair a damp mess and her dark eyes wide. Her pajamas are askew, like she hurried over here straight from her shower, somehow sneaking past the strangely watchful eyes of Kenan.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" I bark at her, ready to shove her off the bed. For some reason, I don't; instead, I sit up straighter and stare at her. "How did you get in here?"

"Did it work?" For once, Violet is not compliant with my orders. She ignores my question, pushing herself a tiny bit closer to me. "Can you feel it?"

"Can I feel what?" I ask, starting to wonder what the fuck is going on. "Why are you in here?"

"They said it would help you, but I don't think anything can." She looks a bit uneasy now, though her words are clear and sharp. I stay perfectly still, not even swallowing down the bile in my throat.

"It didn't work on me, either. But it's okay, Eric," she tells me, smiling with a hint of compassion beneath her bleak grin. "I just came to check on you."

Her concern is palpable; she leans forward, moving closer to me until she's nearly sitting in my lap. She examines me intently, so closely that I can smell whatever she's washed her hair with, and I recoil back.

"Violet," I start to say her name, but she moves closer, this time settling herself on my lap.

The sensation is foreign yet vaguely familiar, like she could be any woman who's ever fallen into bed with me. I freeze as I suddenly can't move. It's like I'm trapped beneath her, and though it would take very little effort to throw her to the ground, I can't bring myself to do it. I swallow as the room darkens again, the lights flickering as her forehead touches mine.

"You'll be okay. Promise."

My spine hurts suddenly, sparks rushing through each and every nerve, leaving behind a burst of pain.

"Someday."

Her fingers touch my cheek, tracing upwards until she reaches my ear and I jerk back as though she's burned me. My eyes fly open to a white room, my sweat-drenched body aching as Dr. Erin stares at me through her glasses.

"Everything okay, Eric?"

The room is white. Starkly white, with even whiter fluorescent lighting and white wallpaper. This isn't my room, there is no bed, and there is no Violet seated upon my lap, touching me in any manner.

Fuck.

I blink, feeling shaky once again, reminiscent of the initiates who stumble out of their fear landscapes after their first time.

"Eric."

I swallow heavily to keep myself from panicking. I'm trying to ignore the lingering image of Violet's face so close to mine, and her scant apology that she was sorry that no one could help me. I swear I can still smell her, even though my brain is now screaming that it wasn't real. It was nothing more than a dream. There's no logical explanation to it, no reason I'd be thinking of Violet checking up on me, no correlation to what Dr. Erin had been attempting to do.

She can't really hypnotize me.

"Eric."

I nod my head, closing my eyes again and trying to slow down my racing heart.

You'll be okay, I promise.

"I'm fine," I tell her, gritting my teeth together. "I'm just…it's hot in here."

"Did you see something? Did something happen?" Dr. Erin asks carefully, her pen poised over her notepad, waiting for me to answer. Her face mirrors the same blank mask I've worn myself, impassive and cold, while she waits for me to crack.

I shake my head, refusing to give in to this bullshit.

"Nothing."

"You look awfully pale for nothing to have happened."

I can hear her pen scratch at the paper in front of her, and I have to restrain myself from snapping at her.

Instead, I compose myself, ignoring the ache in my back. I smile widely at her, sitting up straight and pulling my shoulders back as I clasp my hands between my knees. I wait until she makes eye contact, the mask slipping away a bit when I bare my teeth at her.

"I saw myself getting the fuck out of here."

I lie on the uncomfortable bed, my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling.

I am on edge; I can feel every single cell in my body individually screaming, demanding I do something. My earlier urge to run has become all-consuming now, far beyond anything I could comprehend. I'm starting to feel like they are winning, that this isn't something I can win or work through like I'd planned.

They're fucking with me on a few levels. It went beyond a simulation, beyond forced verbal therapy. I'm becoming unhinged, and it's all because of the sneaky way she got into my mind. I went somewhere I couldn't control, my body betraying me as she whispered words to me that I couldn't really hear.

I am realizing that this situation is out of my hands, no matter how hard I try to correct it. I have little choice in the matter, but I know I have to keep focus. I still have one main goal, and that's to get out of here alive, to leave as the same Eric that came in here.

And when I do, I will make Jeanine pay for what she's done, I'll make Max pay for what he's done, and I certainly will make Harrison pay for his part in this.

I can see myself clearly, walking back in through the gates, the highest ones that guard the faction. I think of the faceless soldiers that work the posts, armed with guns that weigh more than most are comfortable carrying. I think of the high buildings that surround the compound, the large, rotten opening that hopeful initiates fling their bodies into.

I think of my faction far beneath the ground, safely hidden from the world.

Right now, it would probably be bustling with activity, slowly coming to life in these dark hours. There would be fires lit in the Pit, music starting up as alcohol is sloppily poured into cup after cup, people filing in to forget about their day. The hallways would be freezing and quiet, but the heart of Dauntless would be alive.

I can almost feel the buzz as I lie here and listen to the guards make their rounds.

"You good, Dauntless?"

My door is only halfway open, and a man who looks similar to Kenan sticks his head in. He waits, making sure I'm in the room, and then he calls out again.

"You good, dude? You're my last check for this shift. Need anything?"

"I'm fine."

My answer sounds dull.

I'm not stupid. If I told him I needed something — a drink, a book, a nightcap, a way out — he isn't going to grant my wish. He's simply making sure I'm alive and breathing, and that I won't be a problem. Rushing past him would be stupid, since there's more of them at every turn and every corner, and only one of me.

"You've got class in the morning. Rest easy, big guy."

I close my eyes.

I lie there for a while, listening for the click of the door shutting, and eventually I realize it never comes.

The doors opposite my room are numbered.

I read them silently, scowling until I reach the sixth door. This last one is open a bit, revealing a slice of light that spills out into the hallway, darkened only when I step into it.

I push the door open, my eyes scanning the room quickly until they find Violet, perched atop her bed.

Her hands grasp my hips, trying to shove me downwards until I violently jerk away.

"If you're too far over your wrists, readjust until your spine is shaped like a V and not a U."

Her voice is dreamy and disturbingly slow; I feel like I'm trapped in a bad simulation, one that has taken me to the Amity farms and won't end no matter how badly I want it to.

The guard last night was correct; after eating a quick breakfast of dry cereal, we were led down to the gymnasium with great enthusiasm. I had no clue if it was actually Wednesday, but there was already something in the air, something crackling and weird that made everyone seem excited for whatever we were doing. I stuck by Bobby, not sharing in their excitement when I realized we really were doing yoga.

The gymnasium felt odd and quiet as we entered it. There were lots of mats set up, neatly arranged in rows of four. Coach Melissa was pleasantly absent, and in her place was some young girl from Amity who looked like she'd happily had a few too many servings of peace serum. She was sort of pleasing to look at when you considered who she was replacing, but she spoke at a gratingly slow pace, and I wanted to punch her in the mouth when she announced for the third time that this was meditation in motion.

"Now, inhale."

She somehow makes the word nine times longer than necessary, touching me again until I raise my head to glare at her, which results in her stepping off the mat completely. I'd only mockingly participated because I saw Dr. Branger walk through the room, her gaze stuck on me. She'd smiled encouragingly, and I'd sneered back at her until she looked away, having seeing enough.

"No, like this," Amity's highest member instructs, returning to my side. She demonstrates how I'm supposed to bend over, and she moves to touch my side and guide me forward. Her hand is warm and unwelcome.

"Fuck off," I snarl at her, wondering if this dense woman really thought I was going to perform such an activity. It takes a minute, but she must finally get the hint. She removes her filthy hand from my shoulder and steps around a frowning Violet.

"How long is this class?" I ask her through gritted teeth, ignoring the look from the Amity loon now in front of us. She floats away, off to adjust Bobby's head for the umpteenth time.

Violet, who is having no problem at all holding her body in this warped position, shakes her head before looking back down at the ground. She's pulled her hair up into a ridiculous-looking bun, but it makes sense considering mine is currently flopping in my face.

"An hour. But most people give up after thirty minutes." She obediently steps her feet forward, rising up with the rest of the class as Daphne, or whatever the fuck her name is, instructs us.

"She's gonna give us a water break in a few minutes. Sometimes I sneak outside and stay out there. She doesn't ever notice. You'll hear when they're done because Bella will start screaming about her chakras not being aligned or something."

I nod my head, my stare fixed straight ahead, counting to a very high number when Pete falls out of his posture and laughs hysterically as Daphne uselessly tries to help him up.

"Great."

We sit with our backs against the ancient brick wall.

Despite being forced to sit my ass down on cold cement, it feels far more comfortable than jamming my spine into a position it doesn't want to be in. I don't want to admit that it still hurts from whatever Dr. Erin did, so I decide to suck it up and keep quiet.

Besides, outside is sort of pleasant, and it no longer feels odd to sit beside Violet, not even with my bare feet and flyaway hair. It isn't that I've adapted, not by any means. But last night I walked into her room, freezing in place when she looked up at me, utterly unable to ask her the questions I've been dying to ask.

I badly want to know why she's here, what she did that landed her here, why she did it, and why she had been treated on a lower level. I want to ask her to spill all the secrets of this place, because I know, down to the very marrow of my bones, that she knows what is going on here.

There's something off with this place, if one looks just beyond the structure of it: nurses that seem pacified by spending their days caring for patients who will never leave, two doctors who are young enough that they could have promising lives elsewhere, and what appear to be plenty of patients who have never tried to get out.

I wanted to ask Violet about all those things, but the words died in my mouth when she blinked up at me, a smile crossing her lips.

She had looked normal.

For a moment, I felt like I was in Dauntless. Like I was walking into the apartment of someone who lived there, and not the room of a mental patient. Her walls were decorated with all kinds of things: old posters of stars and oceans, printed-out pictures of who I can only assume were once her family and friends, pictures painted in a therapy class, and several quotes, all withered and worn. The lamp beside her bed was not the generic gray one I'd seen in the other rooms; this one was gold and ornate, the lampshade detailed with red flowers. There was a hoodie tossed over her dresser, and a few piles of clothes — all worn, but decidedly normal-looking — strewn beside it. My heart sank below my ribs, and I froze.

She'd been here long enough to make this a home.

I immediately grew nauseous, my pulse quickening when I realized I didn't want her room to look like this. I wanted the bare walls and the tiny beds, the shared dresser and the barred-up windows. I didn't want a soft-looking comforter, or her shoes neatly arranged beside a window that clearly opened up as widely as she wanted it to.

It was clear that Violet had their trust, and she was no threat to them.

So, I didn't ask her anything. I'd turned and walked out, and neither of us had mentioned it.

Until now.

"Why were you up last night? Did they give you something that kept you awake?"

She tilts her head up so she can look at me. She's seated with her feet straight out in front of us, her legs bare. For once, she's barefoot as well, though I suppose that's only because it would feel weird to do yoga in shoes.

"I was looking for Kenan," I lie, examining the grass around us with great interest. Judging by the way she snorts from beside me, I can tell she doesn't believe me.

"You were expecting to find him in my room? I'm not really his type."

It's the first time I've ever heard her try to make a joke. Her voice sounds different —lighter, and less afraid. She reaches down to pluck a stray flower, twirling it around a few times. To me, it looks like nothing more than a wild weed, but she carefully picks the flower petals apart, watching them drift to the ground, one by one.

"They don't really lock your doors, especially after the first week. By then, they think you're so used to them checking or locking or shutting them, that you'll stay in your room on your own and not cause any trouble. They also ease up on following you around. If they didn't shut your door, and no one came after you when you walked out, that means they think their program is working."

She pauses, and it gets so quiet that the only sound is the birds chirping in the distance.

"Pretty soon, they'll move you up the chart. I wouldn't be surprised to find that you'll have shoes and a razor tomorrow."

I look down at her and she looks back at me.

"You'll want to shave, won't you? Most of the guys do. At least the coherent ones." She raises an eyebrow at me, the one I can barely see beneath her hair. "You looked very different when you first came in here."

"Yeah, well, no one's exactly offered me anything sharp, so…."

She smiles and finishes ripping the petals off completely.

"They wait. They're very careful with what they allow you to have. It would be careless to let you have a potential weapon, you know. I mean, did anyone tell you that Bobby isn't allowed to have any sort of scissors? Not even during arts and crafts. He'll take them, and he'll tell you he wants to cut his hair, but that's not what he'll use them for. He likes to cut up things, anything really, to calm his nerves. It's a nervous tic, but it's dangerous. He could lose it and stab someone. Bella isn't allowed to have shirts with buttons. One day, she ripped them all off one shirt and tried to swallow them. And Pete, he isn't allowed near animals. Not even during the animal therapy trips. He tried to bring back a miniature pig once, thinking no one would notice."

She pauses, taking in my expression of disbelief.

"Kenan lost his mind when he found it. Pete forgot to hide the pig and it came running down the hallway, squealing loudly. It had pooped everywhere, and Pete was forced to stay on red for months."

"No one noticed he brought back a live animal?" It's my turn to cock an eyebrow at her. She shakes her head, grinning again.

"I guess not. They don't watch you all the time, especially if there's a distraction going on. You'll start to notice their attention waning after a bit. It might be different with you, especially because you have important visitors, but typically, after the first few weeks, they consider you broken in."

I bristle at her words, and she can tell.

"I don't mean they'll break you in," she says softly. "You're too strong for them. You have something to fight for. Most people in here don't. They'll fall in line with whatever they're expected to do."

"Do you have something to fight for?"

I hate that I ask her, but I need something to distract her for a minute. I can feel myself already getting ahead of my thoughts. She's told me more than I could have hoped for. If she's right, they'll start to lose some interest in me, sooner than later. Even if they only lessen up the tiniest bit, it's still more leeway for me to work with. And her mention of animal therapy has me intrigued. She made it sound like they take the patients somewhere, and there's only one faction with livestock.

"I…"

"What exactly are you two doing? Class is not held outside," Daphne interrupts us, standing to the side of us with her hands on her hips. For a moment, I think she actually might look angry. But then she continues speaking, and I realize she's just stupid. "Were the postures too hard? I thought you looked like you'd be able to do them. You appear to be very fit."

"Fuck off. We aren't interested," I snarl at her, hoping she'll go away.

But she doesn't.

She's staring at me, a lingering gaze that makes my skin itch when her eyes fall to my chest. "You two need to get up now. Class isn't over."

"Pretty sure I said you could fuck off. We're not doing yoga." I make sure to emphasize my disdain at the word yoga, and I sit up a bit straighter. "Go back to your class."

"You're in my class," she points out, her voice still too high and too annoying. She takes a step closer to me, and I swear she looks like she might pounce on me. "They told me you were in great shape, and that you need a workout to reduce some pent-up tension. I have more than a few ways I can help with that, but I need you back in the class. Now. But you can stay out here if you'd like, Violet. I know you don't think very highly of this class."

I raise both my eyebrows at her, before turning to Violet. I'm fully prepared to mock this lunatic, but the sight of Violet makes me freeze. She's lost the carefree attitude from before, and she's now staring at the ground, her shoulders up by her ears and her eyes downcast. Violet, the one person who was actually good at what we were doing, was just dismissed by this girl.

"For the last time, I said fuck off. Violet and I are staying out here."

Violet's head snaps up when Daphne stomps her foot like a petulant child.

"You need to come inside," she pouts. "You won't get any credit for the class if you don't."

"Fine by us." I roll my eyes, waving her off. "By the way, half your class just hightailed it out the door. Good luck chasing down Bella. I hear she can run fast."

Daphne's expression changes to utter horror when she turns her head to the side, realizing I'm not lying. I watch as Bobby gleefully sprints through the doors, throwing his arms up into the sunlight.

"Yes, yes, SO LOVELY! I am one with the Earth! I have the infinite wisdom of the trees!" he mocks, or maybe he truly believes the mantra Daphne repeated forty-thousand times, as he heads towards the fence. He's followed by what must be the entire class, and Daphne turns red as she turns to rush after them.

"Wait! Get back here! Class isn't OVER!"

She shrieks the last word, the peace serum in her system clearly not strong enough to dull down the fury of realizing that she's lost all control. I smirk when she takes off running, and I nudge Violet with my elbow when she trips, nearly taking Aidy down with her.

"Bitch, let go of me!" Aidy shrieks at her, kicking her leg wildly as Daphne stumbles beside her.

"Good fucking luck, lady. Have fun getting everyone back in the gym," I call out, leaning back against the wall.

Beside me, Violet smiles, and this time, I don't totally flinch when her hand brushes against mine.