Please note this story is the sequel to The Assistant.
While I do think this story could be read on its own, it will make much more sense if you read The Assistant first. For those who absolutely loathe the memory loss plot line, or who expressed their extreme displeasure in the pace of The Assistant or how little they enjoyed it, I suggest not reading this story. Eric and Everly are not together for several chapters, and when they are reunited, it is not an instantaneous fix. However, I do think the story is a really cool read. It's full of manipulation and desperation, and it's not the usual read. Some parts will feel vaguely familiar, but it's a little different than what I think is expected. After the wild ride of the last story, I feel like i need to be very clear about this.
To those who read along and enjoyed the last one, thank you! I hope you like the conclusion!
As usual, I don't own Divergent or anything related to it, only the original characters in this story.
Thank you so much to Bamberlee for editing! And yes, I know I promised this for Fridays, but I managed to tear my rotator cuff and ran out of time. The updates will be on Friday from here on out :) I am out of town a ton over the next few months, so if there is no update, it'll be posted the following week.
Have a good rest of the weekend!
"When you're ready, jump."
Beneath my feet, the ground is a swirl of grey and black. The concrete path leading to the next building is a dozen stories below us, and my skirt whips around my legs as the wind blows. It feels like it might help, perhaps pushing me along as I attempt to reach the other roof. A warm hand touches my lower back, and in that second, I am confident I won't fall to my death.
"It's not that far. Four feet, max. This one was built too close to the others. And if you really fuck it up, you'll hit the net they put there."
"Really?" I turn to look at Vincent, his blond hair growing messier with each lick of the wind. Tall, and dressed in the darkest clothes he owns, he nods encouragingly. His brown eyes fix on me, unblinking when I peer up at him. "Who put the net there?"
"We did. If you want to be one of us, you have to learn how to escape. They want you dead, and you'll be dead if you can't get away." His voice is even, rough from the cigarette he was just smoking, and authoritative. "I have faith in you. You know you can do it. You just have to trust yourself."
"Okay."
A dozen stories down, figures in black begin to emerge from the building. Their uniforms are thick and dark, and most look worn. There are weapons strapped to their limbs, as shiny and deadly looking as their boots. From up here, they look like ants. If I land on one, I will squish them. But I know that up close, they are large and menacing. Each one is trained for war but used for policing us. One cranes his head up, and there is a low murmur as one of their trucks rumbles by.
"Now?"
"Now."
I put one foot behind the other, just like Vincent showed me. He's helped me practice for this. I had grown sick of being kept inside, and Vincent promised he'd make sure I stayed alive. It took a long time for my mother to agree. Her face pinched with displeasure each time I asked, but she eventually relented, making Vincent promise I'd know how to get away. She had some rules for him to follow, and just like everyone else who joined, I had to prove I could stay alive.
The first test was to see how far I could jump on the ground. Once I could clear the distance between two buildings, I had to prove I could do it from varying heights, with little distance to start from. When I could jump far enough, Vincent had me practice a single story up. That was dizzying, but exhilarating.
This is terrifying.
Heart pounding, blood pumping, sweaty palms terrifying.
"I'll be right behind you." Vincent nods, and his eyes lock on mine. He's older than I am by an unknown number of years, and he could be one of them. He could be the one with short hair, storming down the road and squinting to see if we're here. "Promise."
"See you on the other side."
My feet leave the ground, and there's an odd rush of power over the elements working against me. Each day, I face the members of factions that I don't belong to, staring with a disapproval I haven't earned. I can see the look in their eyes, and the way they mumble the word factionless, like it's some sort of curse.
It's not.
At least, for people like Vincent.
I have grown up locked away from the outside world, knowing nothing else except the universe my mother has created. I know it's for a reason. She's explained it's for my safety, that my life hung in the delicate balance of not getting caught by Dauntless. As the two of us sat on a crumbling balcony, she pointed to the soldiers driving through, ready to hunt for whoever their next victim was, and told me it would be me.
True to her words, they stopped when they saw one of our own walking down the street. I closed my eyes when they shoved him against their truck, and when I opened them, he was gone. Mother explained they were taking him to be interrogated, then they'd torture him. He would never come back. He didn't have any family to notice he was missing, and no one would look for him.
Dauntless got away with murder because they could. This only made my fear worse, and each time I saw their trucks, heard their barked commands, or thought of them, I became nauseated. So, I stayed inside. I listened to my mother and hung around those who could keep me safe.
A few months ago, the feeling of being trapped began to outweigh my fears of being caught. I confessed that I couldn't stay inside any longer. I felt crazy. Claustrophobic being stuck beneath the ground, suffocated when I couldn't step outside unless I asked. I begged to join the others, and I knew I'd be safe.
I grew up with Vincent watching out for me, and when I expressed an interest in doing more than cooking for my family, he readily agreed to help me. He promised he'd make sure I could avoid Dauntless like everyone else, and he even mentioned he'd train me to fight them if it came down to it. I pleaded for a solid month before my mother gave in, and Vincent's smile was all the confirmation I needed to know it was the right decision.
It didn't hurt that he's not half bad looking.
A handsome face, a quick grin, and dark eyes.
Those very eyes watch as I leap from the ledge. Beneath the faded black fabric of my dress, and the soles of well-worn boots, the ground wavers. The soldiers slip in and out of the abandoned building, hunting for proof that we were here. Hungry for blood, thirsty for what they call justice. If found, they will drag us in to be tested, ignoring the fact that we have a right to exist.
My boots hit the ledge precisely where they should. There's a moment of stomach-churning fear when they slip back. I'm hit with the sensation that I might plunge to my death, but it fades when I force myself forward. I land on the roof with a sigh of relief, and seconds later, Vincent follows.
His landing is perfectly practiced.
"You did it!" He turns to look at me, high fiving my hand with a bright smile. Around his eye is the faint mark of his last run in with Dauntless. They'd cornered him near the Market, where he was doing nothing. He wasn't stealing or bothering anyone. He was there to meet a friend, and instead, Dauntless went after him. He didn't share their accusations with me, but he did with my mother. "Everly! That was perfect. I couldn't have done better myself."
"Really? Do you think I'm ready? Do you think she'll let me outside all the time now?"
I push my hair back out of my eyes, pausing when thudding footsteps become loud.
"Vincent –"
"Here. Up to the lookout. We'll climb back over when they leave." He gestures to the tower atop the roof and shoves me forward. "They don't know how to get into it. But I do."
I follow him blindly because he knows best. I've only been allowed outside for a few weeks now, and only with him. A few scant hours a day, time that I counted down till. It was never enough. If we get caught, it'll be over.
"When you can, grab the…" Vincent pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. "I was going to say railing. But it's a ledge. You can grab on easily."
"Got it."
On his nod, I stretch as high as I can, then his hands grasp my waist. I'm pushed upward, and just like he said, my fingers find the ledge. I pull myself into the window, over a rotted sill and broken shards of glass. It hurts, but it'll hurt more if they catch us. I lean down, reaching for Vincent's hand, and he takes hold even though he doesn't need my help. He's up in a second, and the two of us climb into the lookout tower as quietly as we can. I know to land lightly, inching down and trying to put all my weight in my toes. I would be afraid they'd look in here, but it's high enough that I don't think they'll try.
They might.
They're fearless, but they don't always have the time to be.
"Duck down behind the desk. I don't think they'll climb up here, but if they do, we can go around the back. There's an emergency exit." Vincent whispers, not at all worried. "You go first."
"Do you come here often?" My heart thumps painfully. I bump my knee as I crawl beneath an ancient desk, grimacing when my hands touch cobwebs. I don't know what this room was used for, but it was left exactly as it once was: a desk, ancient computer monitors, a squeaky chair, and rows of filing cabinets. "Vincent?"
"Yeah, daily." He rolls his eyes. "Three times, if that. Don't worry. They won't come up here. Trust me. They're lazy."
"Really?"
The soldiers are fascinating, but not in a good way. Dressed in black and armed to the gills, they patrol through the streets, just hoping to run into someone who pisses them off. The first time I saw one, I felt a flash of fear, so intense I could barely move. It was only because they turned down another street that they didn't see me. Vincent pushed me into the alley, and we ran back as fast as we could.
Unable to lie about why I was shaken up, I immediately told my mother about them, and her words were thin and harsh: they were not to be trusted. No matter what they did or how they tried to spin things, they had an ulterior motive. They had reasons for where they patrolled and why, and those reasons would end in my death.
According to them, I was a failure of the very system they protected. I was a mistake, proof that they didn't want out there. They were looking for me, and they wouldn't stop until they had found me. I tried to ask why, but my mother frowned. She smoothed my hair back from my face, and explained that they were evil people, and this was why I'd been kept away most of my life.
It was why I had no memory of my childhood, and no memory of anyone but my mother, Vincent, and Leif. The only real memories I have are of our family, and those who are factionless. My mother built her own community, made up of those cast from their factions, welcoming anyone who needed a place to stay. Somewhere to live. A place to belong.
Some had even come from Dauntless.
I was always curious when I met them. Most spoke sourly of their time there, lamenting how they were treated and the violence they encountered. Almost all had been cut from their initiation. They were cast aside to live amongst us, with no real skills and no real hope. My mother took them in, welcoming them into the harsh world of living without a faction, and they acclimated well.
Better than me.
Despite having grown up here, I can't shake the feeling of unease when I wake up. I am constantly on edge, close to snapping with each day that I wash my hair with cold water or share my dinner with Leif to make sure he eats enough. My bones ache when the cold sets in, and my clothing is not warm enough. Evelyn does everything in her power to make sure we survive, and sometimes, like today, I wonder if it's worth it.
"No. Scoot over and shut up."
Vincent crams himself next to me. He folds his legs so he can sit, and beside me, he's a head and a half taller. He occasionally looks in my direction, but he keeps his stare trained on the window.
"Are they –"
"Quiet. Listen. You can hear them." He puts a finger to his lips, and he's right. It's easy to overhear what the soldiers are saying. Bits and pieces float through the window, giving me a chill when I catch a few swear words. It's accompanied by some sparse laughter, then someone announcing that the roof is clear.
"Are you sure? I swore I saw someone up here." Boots thud over the rooftop, nearing the lookout tower, then they stop. "What's in there?"
"Nothing. It's sealed shut. I tried it last week." A second voice answers, sounding disappointed. "Rylan, are you sure you saw someone up here?"
"They jumped from the other building. I swear on my mom's life, and you know how much I love her." The voice pauses, and Vincent looks at the ceiling, bored. "She has to be here somewhere. We've looked everywhere. There's no way we're just…missing her."
"Yeah, I know. But, if you did see someone, I doubt it was her. It's been almost a year. If she is out here, she's not jumping onto rooftops." Their voices fade along with their footsteps. They grow faint, joining others as one whistles. "Let's head back. Keep your eyes peeled on the walk down."
"Do you think it's safe now?" I wait for what feels like an hour. My legs are numb, and they burn when I untangle them. "Vincent. Hello?"
"Yeah, it's fine. They're gone. Check the window first." His command is sharply on edge, and even though he's not afraid of the soldiers, he doesn't want them knowing we're here. "Want me to look first?"
"No, I can."
Blood returns to my legs, and I carefully peer out the window. To my relief, the roof is deserted. There is no one I can see, only the wide expanse of rooftop, and the blinding sun.
"We're good."
I climb back onto the window, but I lose my balance when my skirt catches. I hit my arm as I fall, and it's a quick drop onto the ground. I sit up with a groan, and when I look down, there's a large bruise forming on my wrist. "Shit!"
"You okay? What the fuck happened?" Vincent leaps down after me. He hits the rooftop with a thud, then glances around to make sure no one is coming back out here. "Everly?"
"I'm fine. I hit my wrist." I shake it a few times, then scramble to my feet. There's a creak from the other side, and my stomach sinks. "I think they heard you."
"Fuck. Okay, jump back. We'll walk down the other way." Vincent hurries to where we jumped last time, and his stare whips back to me. "Hey, there's no net. I just said that so you wouldn't be scared."
"I figured."
I join him, rubbing my wrist before fixing my skirt. I make a mental note to try and find some leggings next time, but my options are woefully limited.
"Everly –"
The voices from earlier return as the door opens with a bang. The footsteps grow loud, and I know we have only a few seconds.
"Let's go." I step back when Vincent does, and the two of us jump at the same time.
It's as freeing as before.
A rush of adrenaline, the thrill of being weightless for a split second. We land on the other roof, but there is no time to waste. Vincent takes off, and I follow behind. We reach the stairs at the same time, and our race down them is a blur. The bottom floor of a decaying building bursts into view, and he jumps the last five steps to beat me. We tear through the building, ducking down a mazelike hallway, and right as we near the back exit, I'm hit with a wave of familiarity.
It's a punch to the side of the head.
I smell straw, dust, chalk, and the faintest lingering hint of sweat. Voices echo, maybe the soldiers, maybe someone else, and the sounds of cheering as someone is thrown to the ground and someone calls out a score. The sight is tangible, dozens of people milling around, nervously awaiting their turn. When I blink, the image sharpens, and someone in black instructs me to step forward.
"Come on. I think we lost them."
Vincent hits my arm, and the vision is gone as quickly as it came. I'm left reeling, the unfocused images disappearing as we run, then they are gone. We hit bright sunlight, and outside, the Dauntless soldiers are nowhere to be found.
My wrist aches as we walk, but I embrace it.
I have proven myself, hopefully enough that Mother will let me outside.
Inside the deteriorating building, an entire world awaits.
I nod at the two men standing guard, both large and serious looking. One flashes me a smile, but both are focused on making sure no one comes through who doesn't live here. It's strange to think one can live in such a space. There are hundreds of rooms, but no electricity, little lighting, no heating or air conditioning, and the concrete floors are broken in spots. Some of the building is off limits; on the upper levels, the floors have caved in, leaving huge gaping holes, while other floors are missing walls and windows. Most of us stick to whatever room we have claimed, while others stick to the lower floors. It's soothing to descend into the darkness, if not a bit creepy. Leif never wants to head down there alone, even though we know it's safe.
The former hotel would be stunning, but after rotting for years, it's a mess. It's become a beacon for the factionless, but a dangerous one. There are hundreds who live here, though we are prepared to flee if we need to. The large doors that lead to the lower levels can be locked from the inside, and if someone does come snooping around, we can stay out of sight. Some prefer the higher levels from a vantage standpoint. Vincent refuses to sleep below ground, insisting it's better to hear someone coming.
I agree with him.
My room, or the space I've claimed for myself, is near his. It's on the fifth floor, overlooking a section of dark city, and fairly spacious. The things inside have been painfully scavenged. Mother does her best to make sure we have what we need, and Vincent helps. Last month, when I asked if I could start heading out with him, she brought me a desk and a mirror. A heavy blanket because it's getting cold, and a new pillow. I don't know where she got any of the items, until Vincent explained about the connections at the Market. It's easy to take things when the vendors aren't looking, and sometimes, they leave stuff behind. I never questioned when anything showed up because I knew I was lucky to have it.
"Hey, dinner's at six tonight. Everly needs to be there, too."
I come to a stop when Monster looks at me, knocking into Vincent's shoulder on purpose. Vincent shoves him back, and I'm pushed to the side. Monster utters a low apology, but only because Vincent tells him to fuck off.
"Watch it, asshole."
"Fuck you," Monster retorts. "Make sure you aren't late. Evelyn doesn't like people who are late."
"Tell me something I don't know." Vincent sneers, only stopping when I look away.
They don't get along, but for good reasons.
Monster came from Dauntless. Vincent has grown up factionless. The two of them vie for Evelyn's attention, determined to outdo the other. I was often put in the middle of their arguments, for reasons I couldn't ever figure out. Monster has always been cordial to me. He earned his nickname in Dauntless, after hurting a dozen initiates during their class. He explained their trainer called him a Monster when he wouldn't back down, and even though a Leader backed him up, he was kicked out on a technicality.
He arrived livid and angry, and only eased up when Mother took him in and trained him to work as a lookout guard. He's fine most of the time, but he and Vincent often fight, and usually, it's about something stupid.
"Hey, you good? He didn't do anything stupid, did he?" Monster looks at me, and I shake my head. He's not as tall as Vincent, but he's the same size. His black hair is long, always pulled back, and his face is riddled with bruises. "Did you hear me, Everly?"
"I did. And no, he's fine. We'll be at dinner. Do I need to tell her?" I step toward Vincent, not particularly siding with him, but not wanting to hang out down here too long. It's cold, though it won't be much warmer upstairs. "Is Leif here?"
"He's upstairs. He had another episode today."
"Oh no." My heart sinks. I break away from Vincent, and call out a quick thanks, as I head upstairs. I yell that I'll be at dinner, and his answer is muffled. "Fuck."
I take the stairs two at a time, until I reach the fifth floor. I enter the dark hallway, shivering the second I leave the stairwell. It's chillier than I expected, and noisy. In each room, families are returning from their day, and it's not always harmonious. A woman wails that she's tired, while some kids shriek for something to eat. I bypass an older group playing cards, then I'm hit with the familiar smell of fire.
"Oh no."
I find Leif in his room, burning whatever he can. He looks up when I walk in, and guilt flashes across his face.
"Before you say anything, I'm cold. I know it's dangerous, and I don't care." His green eyes are heavy with irritation, and he shakes his head as I step closer to the fire. I admit it's warm, but he can't keep burning it. The smoke is a tell-tale sign someone is in here, aside from the risk of burning down the building or hurting himself. "Evelyn said –"
"Don't call her that." I sit down on the mattress beside him, wrapping my arms around my knees. "She's our mother."
"She's not." Leif looks up, shaking his head violently. "I've told you before, I don't think she is. She made me drink that stuff again. She said it would help me grow, but it made my head hurt. I only drank half. I think she stole us."
"From who? Why would anyone steal someone and make them factionless?" I hold on tighter, having heard his theory before. Every few months, he would wake me up and tell me we'd been taken from someone. That we had a family elsewhere. As much as it pained me, I couldn't do anything but try to help him fall back asleep. I had the same dream sometimes, but I knew what it was. A subconscious desire not to be factionless, and the thin shred of hope that we had a real family out there who would find us and take us away from here. "Leif, I know it's hard, but we're safe here. We could be outside."
"I want to be outside." His mood shifts, darkening as the fire crackles. "I went with Dino once. He said I could have another family. He doesn't remember me a few years ago."
"There are hundreds of factionless. His family joined us not that long ago. It would make sense that he doesn't remember you." I try to be logical, but his words sting. Every so often, our mother looked at us with sheer frustration. I couldn't tell if it was our situation, or that we were pushing the boundaries she had set. "Do you think there's something in the drink?"
"No," he mumbles. "I just…she treats me like a baby. I want to go with you and Vincent. I want to see what's out there. I'm sick of sitting here, helping with the little kids."
"I'll talk to her," I promise. "Will you finish your drink? And hey, hang in there. Maybe she's waiting until you're a little older. I'm sure she has a reason for wanting you to stay inside."
"A stupid reason." Leif kicks the basin where he's lit a fire, sighing when it rattles. "The water is gross, too. It tastes weird."
"Yeah, it does sometimes. I think it depends on where it comes from." I pause, watching him reach for the cup. It's shimmery, like something is in it, and he's not wrong. It probably does taste weird. Our water is sourced from wherever it can be found. It's rare to have hot water and washing up with cold water is one of the few options we have. "Leif, why don't you –"
"No."
Leif takes the cup and dumps the water over the fire. Vincent shows up right as the smoke curls into nothing, and his stare is suspicious. It lands on me, and every so often, there's a flash of ownership.
I hate it.
I've grown up knowing he looks out for me, but when he's mad, he uses it as a weapon against me. He knows I want to go outside, that I want more than hanging around and helping cook. He can get Evelyn to agree, but it means the glint in his eye turns different. Like he's pleased that he's getting his way, and it's not just to help me.
I smile when we lock eyes, and the look vanishes.
"Are you going to shower?" I sit up straighter when he nods. "Do you want to meet back here before dinner? I'm going to lie down."
"Yeah. What about you?" His gaze turns interested, and I can't help but shake my head with a very disheartened sigh. "Another bath? Do you know how much work that is?"
"Yeah, but it's worth it."
His eyes lock on mine, and I know he'll help me. He'll probably sit outside the room, talking to me while I wash my hair. I'll have to ask my mother. Our water supply isn't guaranteed, but I know she'll say yes. It's a huge pain to bring the water to the bath, which means I'll have to take one in her room.
"Alright. Leif, you cool? You need anything?" Vincent shrugs when Leif mumbles no. "Alright, I'll see you both at dinner."
"See you."
"Bye."
Leif's answer is despondent, and understandably so. He looks miserable as he slides closer to me, and when I reach for him, he hugs me tightly. It takes me a second to realize he's crying. I hug him back, holding perfectly still for what seems like an hour, until I hear Monster yelling my name. Leif eventually wipes his eyes, and when I smile, he doesn't smile back.
"You go. I'm not hungry."
"You know what happens if you skip dinner. There might not be anything tomorrow morning." My reminder makes him look down at his shoes, and I can tell he's still upset. "I'll try to save you something, but…it goes fast."
"Yeah."
"Come join us if you feel better." I stand slowly, and I hope he listens. We eat together most of the time, and only a few others. The rest of the community eats whatever has been scavenged. We have a makeshift kitchen that cooks anything brought in. It's mostly soups, a few wild animals, and vegetables or fruits. Abnegation donates whatever food they can, breads and pastries, sometimes noodles or rice, and the occasional dessert. It's never enough, and I often feel guilty eating what I do. "Please?"
"Fine."
He mutters the word, standing to follow me.
We leave his room wordlessly, and when I glance back, I understand his frustration. A thin, old mattress shoved in the corner. A rickety dresser with clothes that have been stolen or found. A single extra pair of boots, and a thin jacket that won't last the winter. He has a few books, some paper to color on, along with mittens and a hat. Anything important can be put on him or carried. There is nothing permanent, not even the bed.
The bleakness doesn't always bother me, but today it does.
"Are you alright Everly?"
My mother's voice is even and soft, spoken after a sip of dark wine. She smiles over the glass, but frowns when I look at Leif. He didn't get in trouble for this afternoon, but I know he feels bad. Our whole world exists only because of her. She does her best to keep us safe. Happy. Fed and warm, all while the outside world closes in on us. He knows this. But his frustration is understandable, especially as winter is setting in.
"I am. I'm just tired." I stall for time, taking a slow bite of the stew that's been brought in. It's always ready for us, and I'm grateful that we aren't starving. There is a small group from Erudite who worked in some of their restaurants. For reasons I don't know, they fled the faction, and ended up here. They take pride in cooking for us, though it's weird to know we get something better to eat than everyone downstairs. We are reminded of this often, always when someone doesn't eat everything on their plate. "This is good, thank you."
"You should eat more before we have it brought downstairs. I know you had a busy day. Vincent told me you did well outside." My mother smiles again, tighter this time, and her tone becomes less happy. "I also heard you ran into Dauntless."
"They didn't see us," I answer, glaring at Vincent. He pretends he can't see me and busies himself handing Leif a small dinner roll. "It was fine. I jumped between the buildings and was able to climb out of sight. We didn't run into them."
"But you could have." Her reply makes me hold my breath. I sit up straighter, fully prepared to defend myself. "Which means you've proven that you'll be alright out there. So long as you're with Vincent. Never alone. You don't know what could happen if you're outnumbered."
"Really?"
Despite knowing I am old enough to do as I please, having her permission makes me elated. I know I appear old enough to do more than stay inside, but her logic has always been better safe than sorry. Even Leif will have to prove that he can avoid Dauntless before she'll trust him with anyone. He shoots me a very worried look, ducking his head when she turns to him.
"Leif, darling, are you alright?"
"I'm fine. I just…had a weird dream." He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. "Everly said she had one like it, too."
"I'm sure. Weird dreams are a normal occurrence. Would you like me to stay with you tonight?" Our mother smiles, and I feel a flash of appreciation that she's offering. It's rare that we ever see her alone, and even more rare that she's here at night. "I could sit with you until you fall asleep. We could read a book. I think Vincent has some new ones."
"Yeah, I do." Vincent's answer is strange. He doesn't sound happy, but he covers it up by gesturing for someone to take his plate. "Thanks."
"Are you done?" Mother waits to make sure Leif keeps eating, and her next question is sharp. "Vincent, is there something wrong? Did something happen that I need to know about? Was there –"
"No, everything was fine. I'll bring Leif the books I got. I found them outside Erudite." He cuts her off with a shrug. "The faction looks different. They rebuilt it pretty fast."
"Did you go far into it?"
Their conversation carries on, and I listen while drinking my water. Leif is right. It does taste strange. Indescribable, with the faintest hint of misplaced sweetness. I stare at the iridescent swirl, and before I can ask what it is, our dinner is interrupted by one of the men from downstairs. He looks at the table, his gaze lingering over the stew, then clears his throat.
"Sorry to interrupt. Evelyn, Jeanine needs you. There's an issue with the room situation."
"Of course." She stands, and her tone is apologetic. She smiles, but it's not entirely happy. "Everyone, please finish dinner. When you're done, what's left will be brought downstairs. Everly, I'll come visit you after Leif goes to sleep."
"Okay."
I watch her leave, but I decide I'm done with my dinner.
And my water.
It sits in front of me, shimmering beneath the ancient, rotting lighting.
"Finish your drink. Then I'll help you get the water for your bath." Vincent kicks my foot under the table, and his tone is commanding. "Don't waste it. You know how hard it is to make sure it's drinkable. You don't want Evelyn mad over a few sips."
"It looks weird," I point out, but I reach for the cup anyway. "Would she really be mad? She won't know."
"Just drink it. You should drink more water anyway."
His stare is pressing enough that I lift the glass to my lips, and reluctantly swallow down the rest. The taste changes, not as intense as before, and I'm suddenly not convinced there was ever anything wrong with it. I set the glass down, and in front of me, the table blurs. I blink a few times to clear my vison. My head feels funny, heavy and slow, and when I open my eyes again, I am upstairs, in a lukewarm bath full of half popped bubbles, completely alone.
She helps me detangle my hair.
I sit still on the edge of a worn chair, the only one I've found that doesn't wobble. She smiles in the cracked mirror, and moonlight filters in through a boarded-up window. Winter has set in much earlier this year, leaving the room stark and cold. Usually, this would have her making excuses as to why she can't be here, but tonight, she is.
I have a feeling she's not convinced that Vincent told the truth.
"Turn your head."
Cold, bony fingers drag through my hair, then gently coax a few tangles away. Her touch turns soothing as she sections it into two sides, and the slight hum in her throat tells me she's distracted. I catch sight of my reflection, and it's not great. My skin is the color of paper, and my eyes are dull. The green looks lifeless, as does the faint mark on my neck. I squint at it, desperately trying to remember when I first noticed. My mother explained it's a scar, and that when I was younger, I somehow managed to scratch myself bad enough to leave a mark.
"Here, tilt your head a bit. I'm almost done. Was your bath nice? Vincent said he worked hard to fill up the tub."
"It was nice. And that was kind of him. I don't remember getting in there, though. I think maybe I ate something weird." I stay still, making sure not to move away when the brush catches. I'm old enough to brush my own hair, but this is a few minutes alone with her. She's constantly fighting a war that I know nothing about, and I often find myself wishing she'd let me help. My head jerks back when she pulls just a little too hard, but she quickly corrects herself.
"Sorry. Did you comb it out before you washed it?"
Her voice is soft, glossing over my skin as she works to undo a knot. The length bothers her, but she has told me it's my choice to leave it. She often uses this time together to remind me of the dangers out there, and her latest focus has been the idea that my hair makes me an easy target. According to her, they could grab me by it. Yank me back and into one of their trucks before anyone would notice. She asked me to cut it, but ultimately let me decide.
I chose to leave it.
"I did." I sink against the chair when she coaxes my head toward her, and the brush glides through the bottom. "I'm almost out of conditioner."
In the mirror, my reflection blinks back at me, guilty for mentioning such a thing.
Once it's snowing, it'll become harder to find the things we need. Hunting becomes limited as the animals hibernate, and those in Abnegation quit searching for us past a few hours during the warmest part of the day. The snow makes the Market harder to get to, and there is often scarce produce to choose from. Even the usual Market vendors hold off on baking and cooking, and it seems like there's less left behind than in the summer. The bakery Vincent normally stops by slows down, baking only half of their normal orders. He's mentioned it a few times, and with each story, I begged to go along with him.
Maybe he'll take me now that he has permission.
In Mother's world, there is an order we follow. Once a person is old enough, we are shown how to take things when no one is looking. Mother promises they usually aren't looking because they don't want to see us. We only take what is necessary to survive; luxuries, like shampoo and conditioner, are never our first choice, though soap and toothpaste are higher on the list.
At some point, after one can easily pocket what they need, it becomes a skill to blend in. For months, I watched others leave in the cleanest, best clothes they had. They followed the rules, keeping their head down, their stares straight ahead, and their hands to themselves. At best, they'd pass as someone going about their day, and at worst, they were outed as having no way to pay for what they needed.
After that, you partnered up with someone close to your age, but not always. Partners stuck together, often linking up with another group, working to keep each other safe. It was easier to keep an eye out if there were more of you, and Dauntless had a harder time catching us.
Vincent liked to tell me his stories of victory, crowing about how he came back with so much that it was hard to carry. He'd weave through the rows at the market, causing minor distractions while others took what they needed. Sometimes, he'd talk to the people working, lifting whatever he wanted while they were searching for something he'd inquired about. He was careful to stagger his visits so they didn't remember him, and he sometimes would borrow a jacket or hat, hoping to throw them off.
He always came back with something to share. Food was his priority, but the other essentials were just as important.
I was usually able to make the shampoo and conditioner last, graciously accepting whatever was pressed into my hands. Vincent tried to get the ones I like. Several times, he offered to pay, even though we didn't have a way to. When things were truly bad, the food running scarce, water rationed, and little kids crying that they were hungry, we were forced to accept whatever was handed to us. The donations from Amity were charitable, but self-indulgent. The people from Abnegation always gave us more than we asked for, and I always felt like it was paid by their sympathetic stares and a dose of secret, self-righteousness. I hated accepting their charity, but sometimes it was the only option.
"I'll grab you some more. Vincent is heading out tomorrow. If he agrees, you may go with him. If not, you'll stay with Leif." Mother blinks, her dark hair neat and pulled back. She rarely goes to the market herself. "I'm sorry the water wasn't that hot. I think we're running out. I'll have someone look at it. I believe Jensen said he's fixed a hot water heater before. Maybe he can fix the one in the basement."
"It's alright. I'm glad I could take one. And, yes. I told Leif we'd go for a walk before it snows. If you're okay with it."
In the mirror, my expression is glum. I am despondent looking, almost ill if you look for too long. My hair is long, as black as the night and as wavy as my mother's. She smiles in an attempt to cheer me up, but we both know something is off.
A few months ago, it became very clear that it's not safe for us to exist.
She lost her closest friend to the soldiers. Isabelle went kicking and screaming, and according to Vincent, violently. Dauntless was thrilled. They assumed she'd spill everything she knew, which meant we could be under attack.
They were right.
A few days later, our makeshift home in another rotting building was ransacked. I was awakened by the sounds of doors being kicked in, someone screeching to get out, and Vincent grabbing me with all his force. We made it out in time, but some didn't. Leif emerged looking visibly shaken, while our mother worked to usher everyone to safety. In what felt like the lowest moment of my life, I caught a glimpse of the soldiers dragging someone away. A firm hand caught my arm, and when I looked up, Jeanine shook her head.
"You'll be next. Come on. It's not worth watching."
The raids didn't let up. For weeks Dauntless seemed to show up, more determined than ever, to find us. Each crumbling location was worse than the next. I blearily asked if we could just disappear into the woods, but that wasn't any safer. We eventually found this place, a high-rise hotel on the verge of succumbing to its own ghosts, and Dauntless eased up. They didn't venture this far, at least not on foot. They'd drive down the side streets to patrol, but it seemed like they preferred to stay on the roads.
A few days ago, one ventured too close. A woman caught up to Leif, screaming his name and scaring the daylights out of him. He'd gone outside for a whole two minutes. Mother sent him to get some fresh air with Monster, but it was a mistake. He was ushered out of sight before the soldiers could realize what was happening, and the chance encounter left him shaking.
"That's nice of you. I think, if Vincent can help, it'll be fine. Things slow down now. The soldiers will be busy with other things. Some fresh air will do everyone some good."
"I think so, too."
I sit up straighter as she braids my hair down each side. It's not how I would normally wear it, but it'll dry this way, and it's less likely anyone will grab it. She finishes one side in a neat plait, then moves on to the other. When she is done, she ties them neatly with a band, and then gently touches my cheek.
"Promise me you'll be careful. I know you believe you are fearless, but I promise you, you are not. You know better than anyone that fear has currency. It has value. You'll be in a world of hurt if you find yourself on their radar."
Her words hold a hint of finality, but I understand. I know she's not wrong. Unlike those in Dauntless, I am very afraid.
Especially of the soldiers.
And their Leader.
"I promise."
I smile at her in the mirror, and it's just as untruthful as hers.
I fall asleep easily.
Exhaustion hits me like a ton of bricks. One second, I am fine, and the next second, I am so sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open. I blow out the lone candle I have and sink back onto a cold bed. The room is bathed in darkness, and not even the moon appears to be shining anymore. The sounds of the night are minimal; the train tracks creak as one runs by, and the occasional sound of wind hitting the building is loud. I feel myself drift off as I pull the blanket over me, and my eyes close.
The next thing I know, I am gasping for air.
I awake with a horrible ache in my chest, and a matching one in my head. The pain is so intense I fear I might have hurt myself, but I slowly realize I'm fine. I'm in the middle of a worn mattress, with too few blankets and nothing else. My heart races, clenching and tightening with each vivid image, one after the other.
They linger, taunting me with the sick feeling that they are real.
They aren't.
I have never spoken to the soldiers, and I've never swam in a dark river in the woods. In my dream, there is a little boy sinking beneath black waters, and I cannot save him no matter how hard I try. My limbs flail as I'm pulled beneath the surface, heavy and exhausted with the effort. I'm jerked upward by someone else, and when I turn to thank them, all I can see is the black of their uniform. A thick, blue stripe on their arm. A flash of short, sheared hair, and the hint of black on their skin. The water threatens to swallow me whole, and when they say my name, it is spiteful.
"Shit."
I press the heels of my palms into my eyes and try to be quiet.
I don't want to attract attention to myself, nor do I need my mother to know what's happening. The last time I had a nightmare like this, she made me stay by her side for days. She wouldn't let me out of her sight, barely letting me fall asleep in my own bed. If she knows I've had another one, she'll refuse to let me leave with Vincent.
"Did you have a bad dream? Was it about the soldiers?" The soft voice of Leif makes me pull my hands away. He stands in the doorway, blinking and holding onto a worn blanket. "Everly? I won't tell anyone. I promise."
"Yeah, it was…something about someone drowning. I don't really remember." I frown at his stoic expression, noticing he looks odd. Pale and miserable, with his hair a mess. He's younger than me, but old enough to know what happens when we have nightmares. "Are you tired?"
"Yeah. Can I lay in here? I won't bug you. Monster is snoring really loud, and I can hear him in my room." Leif's question is quiet, and I nod without hesitation. "Thanks. I could go get Mom, but…"
"She'll make you stay with her. I know. Here, I'll scoot over."
I sometimes question our mother's ability to truly care for us, if not only because it appears to stress her out. While she does her best –spending time when she can, making sure we have eaten, providing for us, keeping us safe, making sure we are warm at night –she often looks like she's thinking of something else. Sometimes her stare hardens, like we are a burden, even if she says otherwise.
I know she tries to be a good parent. We have no father that I know of, and no other siblings. She's mentioned another son that she claims is no longer alive, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot remember him. Only Leif, myself, and a community who believes in her mission.
"Thanks. Are you really going outside with Vincent?" Leif shuffles to the bed with all the enthusiasm of a zombie. He climbs in slowly, staying far enough away that no one would dare think he needs someone to keep him company, and faces the door. "When you get outside, you should run. You should run to Amity and tell them you need help."
"Why Amity?" I yawn the question, and the pull of sleep is too enticing. "Go to sleep, Leif. I can't go to Amity. I have no reason to."
"I dream about it all the time. There's a house, a big house, with lots of people. And a mom who isn't…her. A different mom. She likes us. And there's a fire, and some other people. A dad, too." He whispers, deathly afraid she'll hear him. "I don't think we belong here."
"No one does."
It's the last thing I say.
I fall back asleep, afraid of the dream returning.
It doesn't.
In the morning, I remember nothing.
The dream is gone, and the fragments I try to remember don't make sense. I'm stuck with the odd sense of knowing that something happened, and the frustration of being unable to remember. It's a vicious cycle, one that I ignore as I walk past Monster and the others. They greet me with murmured hellos, pausing to make sure I have permission to leave.
For once, I do.
I step outside into biting air. The sky is grey and ominous, and I'm reminded that I should try and find things that will keep Leif and me warm. I make a mental list as I join Vincent and the small group heading to the Market. They remind me to keep with them once we get there and not get lost.
They appear irritable, but I understand.
It's already cold and chilly, and the weather is especially unkind to us. I walk close to Vincent, ignoring the way his arm hits mine from time to time, and I follow the rules. I've worn something dark, I keep my stare ahead, and I will force myself to smile if anyone looks at me. With clean hair and a jacket that's passable as something from Dauntless, I think we look fine. Vincent is strong and unbothered, and his friends look the same.
It still doesn't stop me from feeling nervous.
Luckily, our walk is short. I hear the Market before I see it.
Nestled at the very edge of the abandoned buildings, it sprawls out much larger than I imagined. There are large tents covering some parts, while others have set up in the sun to stay warm. It appears there are hundreds of tables to walk through, and the smell of warm, baked goods floats in the air.
I ignore the sharp pinch of hunger in favor of slinking behind Vincent as a man and woman pass us. They are dressed in blue, and neither look in our direction.
"What happens if we get caught?" I reach for Vincent's arm out of nervousness, and he glances down at me with a shrug. "Vincent!"
"You won't get caught. You look fine. I'll show you how it's done. And if you do get caught, feign ignorance. You forgot your card. You're looking for someone. You paid at another table. Trust me, it's not that hard. It's crowded and they won't be looking for us." He lets me hold onto him, mostly because he wants me to stop talking about it. "You'll want to head toward the last row for soap and stuff. I'll go with you."
"Okay."
I tighten my grip, and even though I know what I'm about to do is not right, I have no choice. Our small team of Vincent, myself, Dino, a girl named Madison, and a guy named Kenneth have been tasked with bringing back enough for ourselves. I want to find something for Leif, and maybe a warmer coat. Dino is searching for medicine for his girlfriend, and Madison is whispering about taking something for her little sister. Only Kenneth is quiet, staring at the lone booth in the back. It's decorated in black, with a small sign that says Ask For Help.
"What's that one?" I ask, following everyone into the first row. I'm hit with the overwhelming amount of things to look at, and the relief that no one has batted an eye at us. Only Kenneth might look factionless, but only because he hasn't combed his hair. "The black one?"
"Off market weapons. They have a guy in Dauntless. He filters out the weapons they damage out and repairs them. He sells them here. You'd be surprised how many people want one." Vincent slows his pace to let me look at a table full of sparkling jewelry. "Knives are most popular. Guns are the least popular since you need ammunition."
"Is that where we get ours?"
The factionless army isn't a total mystery to me. I've seen them in action several times now, and I was stunned to find how many are well trained. Most aren't, but there were plenty who seemed fully capable of defending us. They are skilled, only lacking in uniforms and an endless supply of bullets, and several spent a few years in Dauntless.
"Sometimes. Evelyn has a guy who gets them for cheaper. Or they steal them. Why? Are you joining the army?" Vincent laughs, but it's not mean. "Evelyn won't go for that. You don't have to worry."
"Are you in it?"
I look up at him, knowing that he is. I guess I want to hear the verbal confirmation, even though I know he spends most of his time plotting with Mother. When he doesn't answer right away, I feel a wave of fear slice through me.
I try to squash it down because my feelings make no sense. I should be fearful that he'll be hurt. He's taken care of me for a while now, and sometimes, I get the feeling he's not just doing it because my mother insists. There are plenty of girls who like him, including Madison. But he's told me being factionless is a rough existence, and there's no point in attempting to do anything more than survive. I should want something more with him. Plenty of factionless pledge to spend their lives together, surviving the elements and fighting to stay alive. I could follow in their footsteps, and maybe it would give me some freedom.
But it's like I can't.
I know he's invested in my existence, and I want to keep holding onto his arm, but every so often, a shiver runs up my spine. Sometimes, when he thinks I'm not looking, his expression slips. I get the feeling that he'd hunt me down if I ever tried to find someone else or cause enough of a ruckus that I'd end up alone.
Even today, his smile is a little too intense, and his stare is a little too possessive.
"Yeah, I am. But don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I've survived worse. Hey, do you want to stop there? They have a few things you might like." Vincent wiggles his arm free to point at a table. There are two girls dressed in black nearby, and his head tilts when he sees them. "Or that one? They have really ugly dresses that are calling your name. Just ask to see one and wait until they turn their backs. You'll have your very own wardrobe of hideous clothing in no time."
"Thanks." My thoughts from before fizzle. I leave his side with a laugh, and in that moment, I am free.
After months of watching everyone else come and go, I stand by myself, in the middle of the Market. People rush by, some polite and some not, and the noise is loud. The conversation is lively, and the air crackles with an energy I haven't felt before. Keeping one eye out for Vincent, I peruse a table of shoes, and several with books in neat stacks. I touch a heavy jacket that would be warm, and a scarf that is nearly as long as I am tall. Some necklaces, and soft looking headbands.
I touch everything slowly, though I can't bring myself to take anything.
Each merchant smiles kindly, offering to show me whatever I want. One asks if I want to try the jacket on, and his smile only falters when he sees the bruise on my wrist. He elbows his partner, but neither say anything.
"I'm okay. Thank you so much." I refuse, explaining that I am just looking, and my heart sinks.
I wish I had a way to pay, because it doesn't feel right to take what I want. Deep down I know I don't have a choice. I'll likely freeze this winter without a new jacket, and I can't wash my hair with just cold water. I turn to find Vincent, and I see him casually grabbing whatever he pleases. He hands Dino several bottles of soap, then he winks and reaches for my conditioner.
My stomach burns when he turns to grab a hairbrush.
He takes a few more things while no one is looking at him. The stand is busy, and he's lost in the crowd as he plucks a bottle of something dark. I watch him choose carefully, eventually picking something that I've seen him give to Leif before. I try to dredge up the bravery to follow his lead, but I can't. I'm pushed forward, and when I look up, two girls are standing near, scouring the area. Their voices are loud, and both appear to be in a hurry.
"I swear on Rylan's entire collection of photos of himself that I just saw her. Tris, seriously. Keep your eyes peeled." The high voice is panic stricken. "Tris! Do you see her?"
"Chris, I told you. I've never even met her!" The other girl's tone is frustrated. "I've only seen her picture. And do you really think she's here? Eric has been searching for months. There's no way we're going to find her shopping at the market."
"I swear it was her. She has really dark hair. It's long and –"
"Four said she's probably dead." The blonde one is unfriendly looking, sighing heavily as a large group pushes past to get by. "If she is alive, she's not here. Four said they probably killed her the second Eric didn't agree."
"How do you trust a word out of that man's mouth?" Her dark-haired friend whirls around, and her eyes are angry. "Do you even care that she hasn't been found yet? Why are you offering to help find her if you think they killed her?"
"I don't…not trust him. Look, Four had nothing to do with it. He proved, under Truth Serum, that he didn't know what she was planning. He didn't know she'd take her, and I'm sorry it happened. I am. But I don't know. I don't get how Eric let her go out there!" The blonde girl's stare turns angry, and against my better judgement, I don't leave. I step to the side, closer, but behind a girl asking about earrings. "I know you and Rylan are hoping to find her, but has anyone thought about why no one has seen her?"
"Yeah, daily." The girl who I believe is named Chris shakes her head. "They think she's alive since nothing has come back. There's been no sign of her, but there are signs of people who look like her. If she's been factionless for a year, she's not going to look the same."
"You just said the girl looked like her! Does she look the same or not?" Tris' frustration mirrors Chris'. I don't know these girls, but they square off, looking miserably angry at one another. "I don't know how you expect me to find someone I never met! And do you really care if she's found or not? You met her once. You hate Eric. You think –"
"He's Rylan's best friend," Chris interrupts. Her eyes widen, betrayal flashing through them. "They came to our wedding. She was lovely. She was really nice, and you should have seen her with Eric. He's never looked at anyone that way."
"That's unfortunate for him, but don't you think he deserves it? After what he did?"
As much as I'm interested in their argument, I feel oddly uneasy. They appear to be good friends, but whoever they are looking for has caused a huge rift. My fingers touch the table, and I'm knocked into a guy asking if anyone sells fireworks.
"Do you have any idea how guilty Rylan feels?" Chris shakes her head. "He considered her family. If you don't want to help, just say so. But I'm going to keep searching for her. I thought you were better than this."
"Christina…"
Tris looks crushed when Christina storms away. She sighs, looking left and right, but she remains alone. When Christina is far enough away that I can't see her, Tris joins the table, keeping her head down. She reaches out to touch a necklace with a tree on it, moving when the man between us leaves the table. I step over to look at something else, wondering if she'll ask about this missing person, when her shoulder bumps mine.
She looks up in surprise, and when our eyes meet, I smile.
"Sorry. I didn't see you there."
"It's…fine. Um…" Her eyes search mine, and her lips part. She's pretty, still unfriendly looking and rather stiff in her posture, and just a few inches taller than me. Her gaze searches my face, then my hair. I step back, and immediately panic at the look on her face. "Wait, are you –"
"Hey, we gotta go. Dino said now."
Vincent's words are hissed in my ear, right as his hand wraps around my wrist. I'm hauled backward, away from the table, before the girl can finish her sentence. Someone else fills my spot, and Tris is crushed against the wave of people trying to look at jewelry.
"Hey! Wait!"
She tries to push her way through the crowd, but it's a losing battle. The Market becomes packed as those from Dauntless arrive, and what seems like their entire faction has chosen to visit today. My heart races at the sight of them. Their dark clothes are not uniforms, but they might as well be. They are everywhere, loud and enthused to be out in the cold weather, and much bigger than I have seen.
I'm pulled back further. I trip over my own boots, while Vincent grabs whatever he can. He shoves a few things into my hands, pulling me along as fast as possible. We rush through the crowd until we see Dino, Kenneth, and Madison. They wave us over, and their arms are full of bags. Madison hands me a heavy one before she leans in close.
"I got the jacket you wanted. Evelyn said to make sure you have something for the winter."
Her niceness ends there.
She pushes me along with her, barking for me to walk faster.
"We have to hurry. If you want to come back with Vincent, you better move."
"Okay," I agree, having no desire to stay trapped inside. I move in between her and Dino, and Vincent stays a few steps behind. He keeps an eye on the Market while he walks, instructing us to take a sharp left. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, we're fine. It's not safe once they're there. A few are alright, but they must be having a field trip." Vincent snickers, throwing his arm around my shoulder. "We try to stay out of their sight. They'd accuse us of stealing even if we weren't."
"Yeah, well, have they ever not eaten for a few days? Let them starve for a week while everyone around them eats." Dino snaps. "Fuck them. Fuck all of them."
"Everly, are you okay? You didn't talk to them, did you?" Vincent looks down at me, waiting until I shake my head no. "Good."
"Are you sure they didn't see her?" Madison slows her pace as we wind around the building. I look back at the Market, and outside, a dozen people from Dauntless linger near one of the exits. One is tall and fit, with brown hair pulled into a bun, and he's arguing with the girl named Chris. "Vincent, if they saw her –"
"Relax, they didn't. And Eric wasn't there."
Vincent's words are the end of the conversation. He stays right by me, eventually moving his arm away to help carry a few bags. The trip was a success, and from the looks of what he's given me, we'll be okay for a few weeks. I hold onto everything tightly, and before I know it, we're back at the building. We bypass the guards, nodding hello and stopping to give one a chocolate bar, then we head inside.
As soon as we enter the lobby, I'm hit with an intense wave of grief. I can't explain it, other than assuming it's because Vincent was worried about Dauntless, but it doesn't go away. It stays with me as I head upstairs, intensifying when I find Leif sitting by himself, staring out the window.
A few days later, I accompany Vincent on a mission.
We head toward an unused section of land, sometimes referred to as the Wasteland. The area is bleak, bordering the edge of the city. For the most part, it's considered uninhabitable. There is little water nearby, no vegetation, and it's covered in trash. There are large sewage pipes that open up to let waste run out, and a few dilapidated buildings missing walls. I have only heard of this place, and the rumors aren't great.
When Vincent told me I could come with him, I agreed without question. Anything was better than sitting inside, avoiding my mother.
"You good? You look a little unhappy these days." Vincent elbows me, and my only response is a huff of exasperation.
The past week has been rough. Leif has been acting out, each night insisting that he be left alone. He and Mother argued, and when he eventually yelled that she wasn't his mother, she slapped him across the face. The second it happened, she froze. A horrified look crossed her face, and rightfully so. It was hard enough to leave a mark, and loud enough that everyone nearby looked at her. Monster cocked his head, Vincent's jaw went slack, and I lunged for Leif. I dragged him away, refusing to let go no matter how hard she pleaded.
Her apologies were numerous.
They spilled out, one after the other, each one more and more frantic than the last. She eventually broke down, tearfully telling him what he said hurt, but he refused to speak to her. He clung to me, and for once, I didn't try to keep the peace. I walked him upstairs and helped him lock his door. It was unlikely it would stay locked, but in the moment, it was enough.
Our mother spent the next few hours begging to talk to him, but she eventually gave up when Kenneth told her to leave him be.
Leif stayed inside for days, not coming down for any of his meals. Rather than forcing him to join us, our mother had everything sent to him, including whatever she could think of that he'd like. A cupcake, made from ingredients too scarce to waste on baking. A fresh loaf of bread. A sweet drink from a coffee shop in Erudite that Monster ordered and paid for with a card he stole. Candy. Trinkets. Several blankets, while the rest of us had only one. She ultimately turned her attention to me, demanding I make him talk to her.
And while I could have tried to convince him to go talk to her, I didn't. He eventually emerged, zombie like and tired looking. He told me that he drank whatever she had sent up, knowing it was easier if he didn't have any memories at all. Before I could ask him what he meant, Leif went to her room, and when he came out, he said she hugged him, promised she loved him, and she'd make it up to him.
As for me, things were not amazing.
Unhappy that I didn't force Leif to talk to her, she served me half of what I normally ate. She didn't let me leave, and she told Vincent I needed to stay behind to watch Leif in case he became upset again. She didn't talk to me unless she had to, and when she did, it was frosty. She threatened to cut my hair, and only relented when Vincent demanded she knock it off. He yelled that she was acting like an asshole, that Leif was a scared kid, and I was going to leave with him whether she liked it or not.
She looked startled when he cornered her, and up against a literal wall, she relented.
She sent us to meet some guy, and her goodbye was warmer than it had been in days. I struggled to smile back at her because I'd never seen her act like this. It felt personal, and embarrassing. Even worse, it felt like I'd let her down, when all I'd done was look out for Leif.
"Yeah, I'm great. Thanks for asking." I answer sourly, not really in the mood to talk about what was happening. "I do want to thank you for talking to her. She would have kept me inside forever."
"She would. She panicked when you were upset." Vincent agrees. "But you know what happens if you try to sneak out. I think she was banking on you being afraid to piss her off. What she did was wrong, though."
"Why do you think she's so mad at Leif? I didn't think she'd hurt him," I confess, slipping closer to Vincent. He looks down at me, and surprisingly, his expression is as upset as I feel. "I've never seen her hit anyone."
"It's not an excuse but she's stressed. She's amping up plans to attack Dauntless and it's getting down to the wire. I think she took it out on him when he decided she wasn't his mother." Vincent moves his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. "She took it personally. I think anyone would."
"He didn't mean it."
He did.
Even though he'd drunk whatever she'd given him, he'd stayed far away from her. He sat silently through our last dinner, and only spoke when he had to. I could tell he'd never forgive her for what happened, and my guess would be that the minute he could, he'd run. He'd find a way out, and never look back.
"What's happening with Dauntless? Are you going with them to attack?" I ask. He and I walk along a rough section of train tracks. I step carefully so I won't trip, and the ground slopes into a drastic ravine not too far ahead. "Do you think you'll win? They're everywhere."
"They are everywhere. You aren't wrong about that. We've tried a few things to get inside. She wants to send a few of the younger kids in as initiates in the next class. Learn the layout. Earn their trust. Figure out their security. But we didn't find anyone in time, so we're going to attempt to get rid of one of their Leaders. We think we can get him alone." Vincent says, leaving his hand on my shoulders as we descend into the ravine. "I'm sure you've seen the guy. Long hair, unlaced boots, always off doing something stupid."
"I don't know who you're talking about," I confess. "How would you get someone to pass as an initiate? How would they get inside? I thought the factionless couldn't choose. Even the kids."
"They can't. We'd grab one after the ceremony and swap places. They don't know who's showing up. It could be anyone. But for now, we're focusing on the one guy. He's in Erudite all the time, so we might try to intercept the truck he drives." Vincent lets go of me to wave at the person waiting for us. "Hey, hang back. I don't know this guy as well as I should."
"Sure."
I fall behind, taking a second to look at where we are. The area has an air of desperation to it. A hopelessness that penetrates my skin. I cross my arms over my chest as I watch Vincent jog over to the man, trying to see if I know him. His face is unrecognizable, but not completely. I listen as they discuss something, then my attention quickly turns elsewhere.
When I glance to the side, a strange sensation pricks at my neck. It sends a chill across my skin, then pure, blinding hot fear when I see him.
At the top of the ravine, gazing down at us.
From where I stand, I can make out his silhouette. He's tall and broad, his uniform tailored to his body, and his hair is short. I have seen this man only once, on an alert broadcast across the buildings. From the alley of a street, I watched his speech. I watched his lip curl up cruelly as he announced a curfew for those who did not belong to any faction, and his eyes darken when he said they'd be enforcing it. Those caught out would be arrested for questioning, especially if they were found in the deserted areas.
Madison had stood beside me, scoffing when he turned, just slightly, and his uniform jacket moved enough to reveal dark, thick blocks trailing down his neck. They matched the heavy piercings in his ears, and he had another above his eyebrow. Paired with an exaggerated haircut and a sneer, he was terrifying.
That was the day I learned he was their Leader.
One of them.
He held the same rank as the others, but something about him told me he was the one who made most of the decisions. The way he spoke was condescending, and his stare was blank. Emotionless. Robotic, even. He continued on, mentioning the hunt for a missing girl, and before he could finish, Madison told me we had to go.
I didn't argue with her.
There was something about him I couldn't put my finger on. He evoked a strange sense of fear in me, one so visceral I recoiled from his blinking image. On the broadcast, he was several stories tall. In person, he's close to Vincent's height, but much stronger. He cocks his head to the side, and for a moment, I don't think he sees us. He appears bored, lazily strolling along the path as he waits for someone.
Then his posture shifts, turning predatory.
"Vincent."
I say his name softly, hoping he can hear me. When I glance back, he's arguing with the guy, and it looks like it might get violent. I take a few steps toward Vincent, trying to find somewhere to duck out of sight, but there is nowhere. Only a vast space littered with garbage, then a narrow pathway leading to the city.
"VINCENT."
I say his name louder, and the man above us nears the edge of the ravine. He shields his eyes with his hand, and I see the exact moment he spots us. His shoulders pull back, and when I blink, he sprints down the tracks like an animal.
"Vincent, RUN!" I yell as loud as I can, and my heart beats so fast it's painful. He looks over in surprise, immediately leaving when I start running. "He's coming this way. He's –"
"Fuck, it's Eric!"
Hearing his name makes everything so much worse. I make the mistake of looking back, and there he is. Tearing toward me with his weapon drawn. Everything I've been warned about becomes true. He fires once at Vincent, and the sound is loud. He misses, but it's enough to make me panic. Visions of blood and guts explode in my mind, spurring me to run faster. I sprint away from the ravine, toward the pathway, and start the painful ascent toward the city. Once I get there, I'll be far enough away that there is a good chance I'll lose him. But now, he's dangerously close. I've never had anyone from Dauntless chase me, and when I reach the middle of the path, I know why Evelyn warned me about them.
Eric is trained for this.
Despite the thick uniform and heavy looking boots, he runs easily. He's not out of breath or sweaty, and the only effort is when he fires his gun again, swearing at Vincent. I make the mistake of slowing to scream for Vincent to hurry, and it's a mistake. Eric's face contorts when we lock eyes, and he snarls something.
It sounds like my name.
I don't stick around to find out.
Behind him, Vincent yells for me to run, then he attacks Eric with everything he has. He leaps at his back, and the two of them tumble to the ground. I take off, and when I hear the third gunshot, I don't look back. I reach a rusty fence, and lunge for the top.
"No, no, no, no, NO."
My hands catch the jagged part of the top, and I immediately let go.
The chain link fence bows with my effort, and it's a struggle to get my boots into the tiny spaces. Realizing I'm running out of time, I keep going. I find a rickety looking pipe to climb onto. I scramble to the top of it as someone rounds the corner, and my hopes of it being Vincent die as soon as I see the short hair. Eric heads right toward me, undeterred.
"Stop! Everly! Stop right there!"
My stomach flips over when I realize he knows my name. He yells while he runs, and far behind him, a slew of soldiers appear. Fear swallows me whole, and my chances of getting away from him come crashing down.
"Shit." I have no choice but to jump and try to make it over the fence. I remember Vincent saying I needed to trust myself, and Mother's warning that they would find me. "Shit, shit, shit!"
"I'm not going to hurt you. Everly, get down! Listen to me!" His voice is rough and loud. He lies, knocking someone away from him, then screams at me not to move. "Stay right there. Don't move. Don't –"
I leap right as he nears the pipe. Beneath my feet, his head is even with my boots. He reaches upward, and his hand wraps around my ankle. His grip is tight, but it lessens as Vincent slams into the side of him. Eric swears as he crashes into the fence, and I hit the top of it. It knocks the wind out of me, but I push myself over, falling most of the way down. I hit the ground with a thud, a few feet away from Eric.
The irony of the situation isn't lost on me.
Or him.
He immediately stands, screaming and yelling for me to stay put. I force myself to my feet, ignoring the sting of my palms and the scrape on my leg, and I run. I run as fast as I can, for as long as I can. His voice echoes in my ears, screams of rage as he thrashes against the fence, then silence. With a sob, I push myself to keep going, until I realize I am lost. I don't know where I am, but at some point, Vincent catches up. He looks worse for wear, bruised and bleeding and frantic as he searches for me, but it's a relief when he rounds the corner.
"Fuck, Vincent! Are you alright?" I blindly reach for him, grasping onto his shirt as he drags me out of the street. He pulls me into an empty building, not stopping until we are far inside. He stops near a window, shushing me as a truck rolls by on the street. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. Are you alright? Did he hurt you?" Vincent grabs me by the arms, searching my face. "Did he touch you?"
"He grabbed my boot. That was it." I stare at the gash on his forehead, and the blood dripping down the side of his face. "Did he do that?"
"Yeah, the fucker did this. I told you they're dangerous." Vincent lets go to wipe the blood out of his eyes. "This is what Evelyn was talking about. This is why she makes sure we know how to get away."
The adrenaline from earlier begins to wane, and my body begins to hurt. My hands are bleeding, my side hurts, and there's an ache in my back from hitting the ground. I stare up at Vincent's face, and he leans in. He examines me intently, jerking his stare away when a loud siren goes off. The truck makes a U-turn, driving back the same way it came. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn't.
He listens, as the soldiers begin to pour down the streets. They continue their hunt for me with wild abandon, tearing through the buildings in droves. Vincent and I backtrack, and he leads me through the lobby of whatever this was. We make it to the back exit of the building but stop when Eric passes by.
His expression is furious.
He storms over the cracked pavement, eyes narrowed and his hair rumpled. There's dirt on his cheek, a faint bruise forming along his jaw, and a scowl on his lips. He barks commands at the soldiers around him, while he frantically surveys the area.
"You're sure it was her, Eric? I didn't see her face."
A young soldier joins him. He has a similar haircut, and the same uniform. He stands next to him, unafraid, and they must work together. He wipes his forehead when Eric doesn't answer, and the two pace back and forth. Eric's stare flicks to the building only once, and his lips part.
He smiles with violent malice, and his words make me hold onto Vincent tighter.
"It's her. And when I find her, there's going to be hell to pay."
He and the soldier leave, but Vincent and I don't.
We stay hidden away from the prowling Dauntless, so long that the sun begins to set, and only then does Vincent deem it safe for us to leave.