My hands are burning, my knuckles red and the joints ache as I stretch my hands, clenching and unclenching and biting my cheek. Just as Eric said, no one bothers me for the hours I spend running drill after drill. Initially my mind is racing, but as the minutes pass and as the burn begins to spread through my body I find my mind clearing. It isn't until dinner hour that I finally stop and take a moment to breathe and refocus my mind.

Did Four have to talk to Father?

What happened?

And worse yet, is Father still here?

But surely not. Families aren't allowed to stay into dinner. But the nerves are still there, unbidden but ever present. Leaving the room, the lights of the hallway which normally feel comforting, reminding me that I am no longer trapped in Abnegation, are too dim, they are too cold. Everything is too cold and quiet. My hands no longer hurt, in fact I can't feel them at all. My thoughts are somehow sluggish and racing, running through my brain but I can't seem to be able to figure out what they are. The breaths I take through my nose don't seem to be reaching my lungs, my mouth opening as I suck in air, but even that doesn't seem to be enough. My vision is unfocused, and suddenly it feels like I am falling, my feet stumbling to the side and I put my hand out, stumbling until I find a wall. Turning to have my back against the wall, I rest my head back as well, waiting for this to pass.

But it doesn't.

I can't breathe.

I can't feel my body.

"Kat?"

The noise in my ears puts a pressure behind my eyes. I can't feel but everything hurts. I don't know what is happening, I don't know where I am.

"Kat, is that you?"

There is a change. Something is warm. Something is near. Something isn't safe.

I'm not safe.

A hand touches my shoulder. And Fathers face is inches from mine. His jaw clenched, nostrils flared, teeth bared. And the grip burns. His fingers dig into my shoulder. He found me. In spite of everything he's found me. I'm not safe anywhere. There's nothing that can change the fact that nothing matters. I was stupid to think I could escape. Everything I've done is a waste.

"Kat?"

Something isn't right. The tone doesn't match the face. The voice doesn't quite fit. But I don't know why. I don't know what is happening. But it hurts. I still can't breathe. The grip tightens even more and I can feel the cry leave my throat, but I can't hear it. It's just enough though. Just enough to trigger something. Trigger anything.

My hands come up, grabbing the arm in front of me. Using all my strength, the adrenaline stopping the ache of my muscles, I swing the arm, throwing the body against the wall beside me. Their chest is against the wall and I twist, still holding the arm and pinning it behind their back. My other hand goes up pressing their head against the wall. My chest is heaving, I can hear myself now, hearing the whistled wheezing. And I can feel myself trembling, barely able to keep Father pinned.

Except it's not Father. My vision is unclear again, my eyes seemingly shaking like the rest of me. But I suck in a breath, forcing it below my chest into my lungs. And it isn't Father's face in front of me. His blue eyes are wide, confusion and concern both present as they stare into mine, but it is not his face.

Now it is my hands that burn, and my feet cannot move fast enough as I race back. My hands recoil and wrap around myself. I still can't feel. My body should ache. My body should burn. But I feel nothing.

"Tobias?" It comes out so quiet that I'm not even sure he can hear it.

He moves slowly. He stretches his neck, rolling his head around after having it forced against the wall. His shoulders move next, as he turns back around. He keeps close to the wall. He keeps his hands open, but low, out in a placating gesture. Looking back at his face, his eyes are still wide. His face is tilted down ever so slightly and he looks ever so slightly smaller.

"It's me, Kat. You're fine. You're safe." Four's shoulders rise and fall as he tries to keep his breathing calm. I attempt to do the same but within a single breath, I can tell it won't work. I'm suffocating. The world is swimming.

I hurt Four.

I hurt Tobias.

I attacked Tobias.

"Kat. You're fine. I'm fine. Breathe."

He takes a slow step forward, and when I don't react, he continues. He moves slowly still, telegraphing every movement very clearly. And as he gets closer, my eyes burn and my vision is blurry. My nose is blocking and I am taking deep gasping breaths, that feel like they're rattling in my chest. Tobias wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me toward him, but gently enough that I could pull away if I chose. But instead I fall limp, collapsing into him, pressing my face into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. Tobias I'm so sorry," it keeps repeating from my mouth like a mantra. He shushes me gently, a hand coming up to my hair.

"I'm fine. Stop apologizing."

As I breath, both of our bodies shake, and he presses me every so slightly closer. He continues shushing softly, though I think now it is to fill the silence aside from the gasps pulled from my mouth, broken apart by the occasional sniffling.

"He's gone. He left shortly after you and Eric did," it is whispered above me. And for some reason, that statement grounds me. Maybe it is the reminder that I truly am safe, the reminder that the monster is gone yet again.

"Thank you." Tobias shifts, and I pull away, wincing slightly at the damp shoulder of his shirt. Luckily the black material doesn't really show much difference. Looking back at his face, his brows are still tilted up, eyes tight and mouth pulled tense. Thinking back to this morning, I am reminded about the interaction.

"Did he recognize you? After we left?" His face becomes blank suddenly before a bark of a laugh rips out.

"Of course not. Or at least he didn't admit to that. Marcus doesn't have a son anymore." While his face has a smile, it doesn't reach his eyes. His eyes are sad. "The last time he came to this compound, it was to announce the death of his son. He didn't need the spare child to continue to dirty his name. Needless to say, Visiting Day is always fun when Marcus comes around."

"I'm sorry." It's all I can think to say. It's a sudden reminder that I'm not the only one to have suffered at Marcus's hands. That Tobias suffered first. A reminder of why he left. Of why he could not survive under Marcus's control. Tobias's expression becomes soft again, mouth turning back up slightly.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. I'm just glad we've made it this far."

Remembering dinner, and the announcements that follow, I give Tobias a smile before turning away to head to the dining hall, offering another thanks over my shoulder. But after a few steps, Tobias speaks again.

"Kat, I know he's helping you. And I admit, I don't understand what is going on. But, be careful. I know I keep saying it, but you are getting close to dangerous people. People that can be hard to break away from. Once you're in their net, getting out will cost a lot."

I don't respond, instead continuing forward. It is almost annoying how frequently Four reminds me of this. But I can't fault him. The longer this goes, the more I realize the sincerity of the warning. Thinking back to my conversation with Eric in the hallway, I cannot possibly deny that I am entangling myself with dangerous people. And how far will it go before decisions are made, decisions that I cannot undo. And at what point will I be expected to pay my dues, and will I be able to do that?

I can hear the rumble of the dinning hall well before I reach the room. I welcome the noise, the quiet that I had surrounded myself with all day lifting from me, a weight I wasn't aware of. The room is bright, and there is a buzz, especially among the initiates. With the rankings getting revealed, everyone is wanting to hear the opinions. A glance across the hall, some of the Dauntless born initiates are talking with the members, theorizing where various people stand.

At a table against a wall, Edward and Myra are sitting and speaking with a few Dauntless members. Glancing at the table and not wanting to sit with any of the other groups, I make my way over and sit with a nod to the others. Myra is pressed to Edward's side, seeming somehow even smaller than normal. Edward's arm is draped over her, fingers mindlessly tapping some rhythm as he listens to the members speak.

"But surely you have to have some clue as to who ranks highest amongst yourselves?" The man has a shaved head, a shadow of a beard ghosting his face. Dark ink curls around the perimeters of his face, along his head and disappearing into the collar of his shirt. His voice has a gravelly quality, and if I had to guess, it's probably from the rambunctious yelling that comes second nature to the people here.

Edward offers a non-committal shrug, a light smile pulling his mouth. Myra is looking up at him, admiration clear. Edward doesn't answer for a moment, glancing around as if to evade the question. The member who spoke leans forward slightly. The other member, a slight man with a more dangerous air, comes to rest his elbows on the table, leaning forward to match his companion.

"I mean, maybe. I wouldn't say it's going to be obvious who will be on top. We've got some strong contenders." Glancing in my direction, Edward's grin pulls back, twisting into a smirk as his eyes lighten, "What would you say Kat?"

The attention turns to me, both members turning their shoulders to look at me as I grab a burger and set it back down on my plate. I look at Edward, trying my best to make my face look unamused. It seems to work and he has the decency to mouth "sorry", though his expression says he is anything but.

"I would agree with that." I mimic Edward's shrug from before, "We have some strong fighters and some quick thinkers. And people have improved quickly, and we have some people who inherently had an advantage. I mean, that one," I offer a nod in Edward's direction, who looks confused, "was a fighter before coming here. So none of us really stood a chance against him. We're all just gunning for second place."

It is my turn to be glared at, though he quickly masks his expression as the men turn back to him. The bigger man laughs, and it sounds almost skeptical as he eyes Edward up and down. It is like he hadn't really paid attention to him when he first sat down.

The two men continue to interrogate Edward through the remainder of dinner, inquiring about his fighting experience, his motivations, his history. Myra continues to watch, enthralled with every word that leaves Edward's mouth. For a moment, I can almost forget the tension of the night, forget what started the conversation. But out of the corner of my eye, I see the other tables of transfers stand, some confident, others nervous. Meeting Edward's eyes and offering a tight smile to both him and Myra, we all stand. The members sit back, giving each of a us an unreadable look.

"Good luck," the smaller man says, offering a nod. The other echoes the sentiment. We each offer a quick thanks and turn to head to the dormitory to find our fates. We are silent as we walk. Myra is still clinging to Edward, but for once I can't fault her, I almost understand the need to cling to someone, to ground yourself.

The others are already there, but we walk in along the side and squeeze toward the front to see. Four is waiting with the board resting against his shin, facing away from us. His expression is blank, almost bored.

"Ranks are based on a variety of scores you have received over the past few weeks of training. Initially, you are ranked on skills you displayed during the first rounds of fight. Every scoring after that was based on whether you showed improvement, another score based on your general skill level, and then comparing you to your opponent. You gain more points by managing to overcome a more skilled opponent. If you lose to someone much lower, that loses you points."

He looks across all of us, taking a moment to pause as he makes eye contact with each of us.

"While you have a chance of improving in the next round of initiation, don't bet on it. Stage two has more weight in overall rank, but if you are relying on that, I'm here to tell you now that it will not end well. We will tell you who is cut tomorrow, after you all and the Dauntless-born initiates have a chance to look at your rankings. No one gets any favoritism. All of you, Dauntless-born included, will be weighed against one another equally in the rankings. So take advantage of your evening, especially if you are at the bottom. You won't know if you get to stay another night."

He hangs the board up behind him, and walks away without another word. He doesn't turn around, striding to the very edge of the room, leaving us to the chaos that is sure to follow.

Edward

Peter

Kat

Will

Christina

Molly

Tris

Drew

Al

Myra

Sure enough, there is chaos almost immediately. We have a single breath of silence, but it is tense at best. Molly is the first to break, snarling at Christina, who fires back a retort I don't bother to listen to. Four walks back to settle the argument, then continuing through and out of the room. The bickering continues, Molly eventually following Four out of the room.

Peter is uncharacteristically quiet, and there is a tightness to his eyes and mouth that have me on edge. He just stares at the board for a long time, ignoring the chatter around him. Glancing slightly over I see Tris also watching him. Peter blinks and turns away from the board suddenly. When he turns, he meets my stare. He doesn't have much reaction, but after a pause he simply raises his brows before letting them fall back. A quick glance over my shoulder has his jaw tightening again and he wanders over to his bunk.

Looking over my shoulder, I see Edward wrapped around Myra. She is shaking. She's last. She knows she won't make it. There is almost no way that four of the Dauntless-born initiates failed that badly. The first and the last. One of them is leaving tomorrow. And again, as much as I have claimed that I am detached from all the others, I can't help the pain in my chest as I watch Myra tremble against Edward. As I watch Edward try to console her, trying not to let his success and sure joy show, knowing that everything they have known, everything that we have all come to consider normal, will be ripped from them without a second thought.

I turn, giving them privacy, letting them mourn. Instead I follow Peter's example and walk to my bunk. Sitting down and untying my laces, I glance back over at Peter, his back turned toward me. His shoes are sitting at the foot of his bed, but he sits, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His fingers are steepled, mouth resting against his index fingers, thumbs just below his chin. He is so still, his breathing almost imperceptible. He is staring at the floor, unseeing. Again it is uneasy to see him like this. I cannot say he is calm, because he is too calm for it to be true. Drew is near, also watching Peter. Molly is still outside. Taking a deep breath, Peter stretches his neck before laying back, eyes closed before his head even hits his pillow. He isn't asleep, that much is obvious, but what he's doing is unclear. Drew soon follows.

I quickly change clothes and lay down as well, turning to face the wall. There is still chatter as the others discuss their ranks. Some discuss celebrating. Molly still hasn't returned. I close my eyes and just pretend it is just any other night. No one is leaving tomorrow. No one is scheming. No one is angry. For the first time in a long time, I allow myself to be deluded into thinking everything is okay.

I hear Peter shifting behind me. It sounds like he stands up, on the side of his bunk closest to me.

"I have a feeling things might be, shall we say, exciting tonight. I'd recommend a walk, if you don't like to get dirty." The words are quiet. A whisper. The tone of his voice is light, as if making a genuine suggestion. Spoken like telling a friend directions to a game. But I cannot move for moments after they are spoken. By the time I sit up and turn around, Peter and Drew are gone.

I should follow. I should tell Four. I should tell Eric. I should do anything. The room is practically empty. Myra and Edward have moved to sit on his bed, whispering while Myra continues to shake. Edward is holding her, stroking her hair. Edward is kind. He is smart. And he is ranked first. He's in danger.

But I also think to Christina and Tris. To Molly and her rage. To Peter's seeming vendetta against Tris. I have no clue what is going to happen. I don't even know what I would say if I went to Four or Eric. What I would get myself wrapped into if I followed Peter. I don't know what to do. Because in spite of it all, and in spite of how sadistic Peter has already proven himself to be, I can't help but think of the boy who raced me up the stairs. The boy who smiled as we trained. I don't want to think of the boy who lit up at seeing his parents at Visiting Day, being someone who would hurt someone for no reason, because Peter gains nothing from getting rid of Edward.

"'You've made friends in dangerous places, Kat.'" Four's words echo again. I don't know what to do. Maybe I'm thinking too far into this. Maybe I'm wrong.

It's those words that repeat in my head as I fall asleep.

It's those same words that repeat in my head as I bolt upright, a scream echoing in the room. There is shuffling, people are moving and muttering. Another scream. A cry for the lights. More shuffling. Crying, though what type I can't be sure.

When the lights come on, people are scattered around the room. At first I can't tell what is happening. I see Tris and Myra in the middle of the room. It isn't until I realize they are looking down that I realize, at the same time that Myra screams. Tris kneels next to Edward, who holds the handle of a knife, embedded in his eye. She is muttering softly, holding his shoulders. There is blood all around them. He is screaming. Others are frozen in place, expressions a mixture of horror and disbelief. Walking closer, I can hear Tris arguing with Edward, begging him to lie still, to calm down. Doing her best to keep him calm and still, to limit the pain and damage. It's impressive, how she is doing. The smell of the blood is nauseating, metallic and pungent. A look up, some of the others seem have the same feeling, Christina and Will both pale, lips tight between teeth.

"Hey," I try and keep my voice down to try not to disturb the two on the floor. Christina and Will look up at me, expressions still shocked, "go get someone. Find someone, worst case run into the Pit and yell. You should be able to find some of the Leadership. And one of you go grab a nurse."

At first they don't really react, instead just glancing back and forth between myself and the carnage on the floor as Edward continues to cry and writhe on the floor.

"Go!" I am more forceful this time, and the two are still slow to move initially but upon turning they sprint out of the room and I can hear their heavy footsteps echo down the hall.

Turning back, Tris is still doing well, trying her best. Edward still has his hands near the handle, breathing labored. I fall to my knees opposite Tris. She glances up, and for a moment the calm of her expression breaks and there is some panic. Her voice quavers for a moment, eyes flashing. I offer a quick nod, circling my hand in a small motion. Keep going.

"It will be alright." Her voice is firm this time, hands still holding his shoulders.

"Edward," I try to somehow manage to be quiet but firm, "you're going to be fine. The nurses will be here soon."

"Kat, help me," his voice is so weak. He sounds so small. He doesn't sound like the Edward I have come to know. He doesn't sound like the fighter I've seen in the ring.

"We're getting you help Edward. We're right here, we've got you."

I hear Myra sobbing nearby. Glancing up, she is still standing at the end of the bed. Al stands nearby, unsure what to do, face ghostly.

"Al," he startles at my voice, "get her to sit on a bed."

Similar to Will and Christina, he doesn't respond immediately, unsure and timid. When he finally moves, he places a hand on Myra's shoulder and it engulfs her small shoulder completely. She is rooted in place, even with Al pulling slightly. I turn back to her and for what might be the first time, she looks away from Edward and looks at me.

"Myra," I try and keep my voice gentle, "go with Al. Sit down. I'll take you to him in the infirmary once he's safe. I promise."

It's all it takes, and she goes with Al readily. He leads her to the bed across the room and sits next to her, letting her lean against him. He doesn't seem to know what to do, but so long as he keeps Myra in a safe spot, I can turn my attention back to what is in front of me. Tris continues to offer soft reassurances. I notice now the blood coming from Edwards nose and lip. He must have been hit in the face before the knife came into play. His fingers are clawing at his face, getting closer to the knife handle. He needs something else to do with his hands. Knowing I have a wrap around my chest, I tug my shirt over my head and gently grab one of Edward's hands and pull it away from his face, putting the bunched up shirt in his hand before grabbing his other hand and bringing it over as well.

Hearing steps echoing in the hall, I can't help the relief opening my chest. I start to move away to stand, hoping to greet them down the hallway, but as I shift, a hand shoots over to grab my wrist. A look down, Edward has let go of the shirt.

"Where are you going? Don't leave me alone. I don't want to be alone. I can't do this alone."

I meet eyes with Tris and see my own concern and fear reflecting back at me. I shift until it is my hand in Edward's grip

"I'll be right back Edward. I can hear the nurses coming, I'm just going to meet them. Tris is right here, you aren't alone. You're going to be alright, you're not alone. I'll be right back, I promise." I tighten my grip at the last statement, giving a nod to Tris. She starts talking quietly to him. His breathing is shaky, but after another pause he lets go. Standing quickly, I race out the door and down the hall. As I round the corner I see Will and Christina behind a couple nurses, one carrying a gurney and the other with a kit. Running up to meet them, I pause just ahead and turn.

"I'm sure you heard the gist of what's in there," I say once they get close. The one with the kit gives a nod. Once they're next to me I run in line with them.

"He's also got a busted lip and nose. The nose might be broken, I'm not sure."

Kit nurse gives me another nod.

"And the knife?"

"Still in the same spot. He wants it out but we've got his hands occupied. One of the other initiates is with him keeping him as calm as they can."

"Good," is all she says before we reach the room. She doesn't falter, walking forward and telling Tris to step back and getting to work. The other follows and sets the gurney down and the two are huddled around Edward. The others back as far as possible, Will and Christina heading over to where Tris is standing to the edge of the room, hands bloody at her side, clothes a mess.

The nurses are quick, Edward's cries cutting through sporadically. They get him placed on the gurney and the first nurse repacks most of her kit. Looking up, she spots me and gestures me forward.

"Can you help carry him? I need my hands free."

I nod, wiping my bloody hands on my pants as I walk to the end of the gurney and waiting for the other nurse to nod before lifting. Edward doesn't make a sound as he is lifted.

"Move quickly," the other nurse holding the gurney says, "but do your best to keep steady."

Another nod and we set off at a fast pace. The first nurse keeps a hand on Edward, checking his pulse, asking him questions, keeping him alert and awake. It takes all my focus to keep my gait steady, not wanting to jostle the gurney and hurt Edward. I can't keep track of where we are. We run through the Pit. Then after that it is a maze of hallways. As we turn a corner, Edward shifts.

"Kat?"

The nurse beside him turns to me, giving a quirked brow.

"I'm here Edward. You're almost there. I'll get Myra for you once you're good and settled. Just like I promised. You're doing good."

The nurse gives a nod and a tight smile while Edward makes a soft noise, settling back down.

Before I can really process, we reach the infirmary. The two nurses guide me to set the gurney, and in turn Edward, on a table.

"Thank you," the other nurse who carried says, "you're good to go back."

I say nothing. I just grab Edward's hand quickly. At first, the nurse goes to say something, but then just mutters out "quickly" as she goes to grab some equipment.

"You're going to be alright Edward. We'll be back. You're going to be fine."

I give his hand a squeeze and he squeezes back weakly. I let go and turn and stride out of the infirmary. The moment I am out the door, it is like a wire has been cut. I am suddenly aware of how tired I am. I lean back against the wall and allow myself to sink to the ground, head falling forward into my hands. There aren't any tears, but I wonder if it's because I'm simply too tired to cry. There are steps approaching and I draw my knees in, wrapping my arms around my knees before I look up and stare down the hall. After a few moments I can see two figures approaching. I continue to watch before I recognize the two people. Myra and Four.

Myra is walking on her own, but even from a distance I can see her trembling. I slowly bring myself to stand again, walking up. Myra looks at me, eyes wide and lips quivering.

"He's alright. They're working on him now. He'll be alright, I'm sure of it."

She seems unsure, but she gives me a nod.

"Thank you," it's so quiet I almost miss it. It is one of the only things I have heard her say in all the times I have been around her. Despite my own reservations, I wrap my arms around her and pull her into a hug, trying to convey comfort and reassurance in what little ways I can. When I let go, she seems ever so slightly steadier. Glancing over my shoulder, she stares at the entrance of the infirmary.

"Go on, I'll go with you. Let them know why you're here." Four nods at the door and goes ahead of her, and she follows wordlessly. I go back to leaning against the wall, this time with my head tipped back, staring at the ceiling. After a few moment, Four reappears. He looks over at me, staring for a moment, concern pulling his brows and mouth.

"You alright?"

A laugh bubbles out of nowhere. It echoes in the quiet hallway. Four flinches slightly at the noise.

"No. No I'm not. Nothing is alright. But I guess that's just how it all goes isn't it?"

When I look at him, the concern is tinged with something, but I'm genuinely not sure what. I don't have the energy to try and analyze Four right now. I don't have the energy for anything. I want nothing more than to lay down and pretend nothing happened. But at the same time, how can I? How can I walk in that room and not smell the blood, not see Edward on the floor, the metal handle of the knife protruding from his face?

I jostle myself away from the wall and just start making my way back and after a moment I hear Four follow.

"How is it back there?"

There is silence for a moment. He takes his time forming his answer.

"It's messy. I think some of the others are cleaning. It's chaos. You all will likely have tomorrow off."

I just nod. There's no good response to that. I don't want tomorrow off. That gives too much time to think. Too much time to really let everything set in. Instead, I just divert.

"Tris did well." This time I risk a glance over my shoulder to see Four's reaction. His expression is controlled, to be expected, but he glances up, eyes widening slightly. Again there is silence.

When we reach the Pit, there is a figure standing in the middle. They glance over as we enter and the light catches some of the metal on the face and ears. Eric. He approaches and meets us halfway. The moment Eric was visible Four sped up slightly and now stands next to me. Eric glances at me for a moment before turning to Four with a brow raised.

"The boy is in the infirmary and is being stabilized. They think he'll be fine, but they'll have to remove the eye. The girl is with him." He is clinical as he gives the debrief, "the others are cleaning and trying to go back to normal."

Eric's face remains impassive at the information. He turns to me now.

"Why are you out and about?"

I bristle at the interrogation, though I don't know why. Maybe it is the fact that any other night there wouldn't be questions. Maybe it's that fact that I am remembering my lack of a shirt. Maybe it is the sticky, itchy feeling of my blood soaked pants, or the dried blood caked on my hands and probably on my face.

"They asked my to help take him to the infirmary. I'm just doing what I was told."

Eric's other brow rises to match. He glances back at Four, who seems shocked at my tone.

"Four," Eric's voice sounds detached, which if I were more rested would be concerning, "I think you've done enough tonight. I'll handle it from here. I'd like a word with the initiate. Hear her account of what happened. Goodnight."

Four shuffles his weight, hesitating. He gives me a glance before looking back at Eric.

"Eric-"

"I don't think I asked a question Four. Goodnight." The way he says it is final. Four looks back at me again, concerned more than anything. I can't bring myself to look away from Eric, keeping my chin tilted up slightly, unwilling to look even mildly timid. I don't have the energy to care. Now the tiredness is melding to a barely concealed rage. Why are we wasting time here? What is the point?

After watching me for a moment, Four gives a small nod to both of us before heading towards a different hallway. There is silence for a long time, neither Eric nor I speaking until Four's footsteps are barely audible.

"Well? What happened?"

A pain is growing behind my ears and at my temples. My hands itch. My legs itch. My torso is cold. My jaw hurts. I just want to take a shower and lie down.

"I think it's pretty clear what happened sir. Someone stabbed a knife into Edward's eye while we were all sleeping."

"Watch your tone." The amusement that is seemingly ever present in Eric's eyes is gone. I don't respond, just continuing to glare up. Yet again Four's warnings echo in my mind. "Do you have any idea who might have done it?"

Earlier in the evening plays in front of my eyes as if I was in the moment again. Thinking back to just moments before, glancing around the room. Two people were missing.

"I might. I think you have some idea who might have done it. Doesn't take a genius to figure out who might be angry about the results."

Eric hums, face becoming neutral again. His eyes peruse my face, as if searching for something.

"You may be right. Unfortunately, there isn't much evidence. We'll look into it tomorrow, but it's not looking good."

"What?" The question is nearly whispered. "Nothing? One initiate stabs another and there's nothing that can be done? We just pretend nothing happened? I just go back to bed and pretend I'm not covered in blood?" By the end my voice has raised. I'm not yelling, but it feels like I am. My body aches. My throat is sore. My hands itch. Eric's face remains neutral.

"I figured you'd be happy. I mean, he's your friend isn't he? The one who likely did this?" Eric's voice is aloof now, face tilted back as he looks down at me.

I am caught off-guard, completely thrown by the question. Completely thrown by Eric's attitude. Completely thrown by everything that has happened over the last 24 hours.

"What are you talking about?"

Eric's mouth curls up now, in that cruel smile that I had yet to really see.

"The Peter boy. You two seem quite friendly. I figured you'd be happy he gets to stay."

"Are you out of your mind? My friend is lying in the infirmary, losing an eye! What are you going on about? What does my being friends with anyone have to do with anything?"

He doesn't respond right away. Instead, he seems to ponder. He lowers his face, dropping the smirk. Now, he seems more uncomfortable, shifting his weight to his right leg. He swallows before answering.

"Kat-"

"No, no I don't care. This is ridiculous," I push past him to walk back. I am not going to play what ever ridiculous stupid game is being played here. I again think back to Four's warnings, but that doesn't make me feel better. If anything it serves to make me more frustrated.

"Are you scared?"

I come to a complete stop. Whirling around, Eric is just watching.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you scared?"

My whole body moves as my chest rises and falls with my breath. My head is pounding, but my chest feels open, my arms burn. The urge to punch something, anything, is nearly overwhelming. The scoff that bursts from my mouth is quiet and I let my mouth hang open for a moment, turning to a disbelieving smile.

"Scared? I grew up surrounded by monsters. You want to know how I feel? I've never felt more angry in my life. A few hours ago you had me thinking that maybe I had found something different. Maybe a home could exist without monsters. But no. In fact, I've never felt more at home than in this moment. Congratulations."

Eric's face falls and I cannot bear to look at him for a moment longer. Turning quickly I walk away back to the dormitory.

"Kat," Eric calls out and it echoes in the Pit but I refuse to stop. I refuse to turn around.

My head pounds. My hands itch. My legs itch. My torso is cold.

Even as he calls out a second time, I keep walking. When I make it back to the dormitory it is quiet. The others have laid down. I quietly wet a rag and wipe myself down, changing into new clothes, throwing the ones I was wearing into the garbage. I can't wear those again. I lie down, closing my eyes and spending the night hoping I might have a moment where I don't see blood and cruel eyes and metal handles. It doesn't work.

Howdy! Thank you again for sticking with this! I figure I should mention, I do not have a beta-reader, so if there are ever any typos, I am so sorry. I try and catch them but I know I miss some. I try to go back and read some of the older chapters and fix those. So also if you see me randomly reposting a chapter, it may be me trying to fix issues. But anyways, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. I realize Eric seems really chaotic, and he isn't making much sense. On one hand, I think that does fit with his character, but also I'm trying to meld his original character with the rendition here. Hopefully it doesn't feel too crazy, either with him or any of the others. Also poor Edward was never really mentioned and then got his eye mutilated. So I figured we'd try and make him a person. But thanks for reading, and again, I hope you enjoyed it at least a little! Until next time, Stay Fierce!

~ChildOfLupus