Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent.
Everything's unwinding inside Eric, and he feels it happening in real time, a solid manifestation of the simulations he feared the most. With each attempt to go to sleep, another memory of that day escapes from a back room within his brain, adding to his torment. He hears himself having a screaming fit. He sees Lora trying uselessly to make it all better. He hears Tobias leaving that comment that really wasn't needed.
These miniature dreams keep swimming up and surfacing where they're not wanted. Now Eric's certain he can't get any rest at all.
Something like fifteen minutes pass, then Eric gives up. He sweeps the sheets aside and clambers out of bed. On the floor is a shirt a couple sizes too big, Eric takes it without thinking and puts it on. He then wanders aimlessly into another section of the transfer dorm.
It's one most of the transfers have never been in. Not because they had no interest in going, but because they'd have not had time to, with all that they're required to do in training. A moss-colored carpet provides the flooring for half of the room, the other half is linoleum that's wet and marked with sneaker prints. Next to those prints is a pool table, opposite it is a couch made to accommodate three people, with a television set in front of it.
No wonder this section's unpopular, Eric thinks. No Dauntless would let himself be seen just watching TV, he'd get called lazy and useless.
Well, if Eric isn't seen, he can't be judged. He finds the remote and uses it to turn the television on. It'll just be pure white noise, something to help him clear his mind.
"Check that out," says a commentator. "An amazing three-punch combo from the Demon Slayer." Eric watches, his eyes quickly gluing themselves to the screen. He's viewing a kickboxing match between two of the most virile men in Dauntless he's ever seen.
A minute in, and he decides it's gotten to be too much. The "Demon Slayer" who was shouted out is merciless. He won't slow down, though his opponent's face is now showing more blood than skin. Eric flicks through the various channels and hopes he'll land on a more suitable program.
The nightly news, perhaps? "Recent reports say there is little activity at the fence," the lady reporter reads off the teleprompter, as she holds the mic up to her mouth. "But that could change soon." Eric switches the channel again. Dull.
This time, when he puts the remote down, he sees a familiar face on the TV screen. It's Max, the oldest of the Dauntless leaders. He's being interviewed by some third-rate journalist from Erudite. "What is the central concern here?" the glasses-wearing young man in blue asks. "That the mental health of our teens is being neglected?" He's being a bit too inquisitive, and Max isn't liking that.
The Dauntless leader's unfazed, though. "I would say," he replies without missing a beat, "that it shouldn't be a concern. Initiation exists to eliminate those who aren't suited for this life." The younger man's about to butt in again, but Max stops him, lifting his hand in a demand for silence. "Yes, many have committed suicide," Max says in agreement, "but from our perspective, it was for the better."
This simple assertion stuns the Erudite man. He gapes at Max and doesn't say anything.
Max goes on. "Because," he explains, "they knew they couldn't handle life in our faction."
Like the Erudite journalist, Eric stares at the face of the middle-aged Dauntless leader. Max has long since been hardened by time and scarred by decades-long experience. He has more of a right to speak on Dauntless issues than the Erudite. He's likely right about this epidemic of suicide in his faction.
It's just that the timing is bizarre, that Eric should happen to see this interview now. Because suicide is exactly what is on his mind at the moment.
After passively watching Max and the Erudite interviewer for a few more seconds, Eric turns the TV off and walks with purpose out of the dormitory, toward the dark passage that leads to the chasm.
The void opens itself up to him, a triple-dog dare for him to jump in. Eric hesitates.
A sound like a lion's roar echoes throughout the space. The rocks and the wall below just got blasted by one especially massive wave, and it was loud enough to startle. Embarrassed, Eric forces himself to move until he's only an inch away from the ledge. When he's there, he looks down, wishing he didn't feel so daunted.
The water's as cold and frothy as ever, a giant, flicking tongue loaded with thousands of droplets of spit. If he makes that fateful jump, he'll get chewed up, swallowed whole, and digested. Nothing will be left of his earthly body, not one piece that can be buried. Mia was lucky when she ended up falling onto the rocks.
But Eric's not supposed to even care. The pain after the initial fall will be brief, and then he'll just be deceased. He won't know or feel it when his remains are recovered, then discarded by the Dauntless. He'll be nothing, a shell, completely blank. Completely neutral.
Which is so much better compared to his current state. He's become an epic failure, a complete joke.
Eric lets one of his feet dangle from the ledge. He wills his own body to tilt forward, until it can fall past the point of no return. He's nearly there, in fact. It'll just take one more step.
His foot is shaking. He's faltering. His head turns ever so slightly, and suddenly he can see…
Max! The oldest Dauntless he knows, the leader who had some words for the Erudite journalist on the suicide crisis in his faction. He's wearing the same clothes he had on in the televised interview, and something is off about his facial expression. The look he has is so familiar, it gives Eric a chill in his bones. Eventually Eric figures out why. Both Max's eyebrow and the corner of his mouth lifted simultaneously, just the way they did when he first saw Tobias faint out of fear.
All of a sudden, the leader's words during the interview resurface. "Many have committed suicide, but from our perspective, it was for the better. Because they knew they couldn't handle life in our faction."
Something akin to a bright light clicks on inside Eric's head, illuminating the consequences of the action he's about to take. What is he doing? Does he wish to be further humiliated and degraded, even after his passing? Does he want Max to shame him for being a pansy who couldn't even last through his own initiation?
No! Shudders going through his legs, Eric hops away from the ledge.
He nervously glances at the spot where he last saw Max. Soon, he realizes there was never anyone there. His mind just pulled a nasty prank, like the fear landscape did earlier.
But it worked its magic. Eric's not gonna off himself now. There'll be a day for him to die, but not today. On this day, he'll choose life, and he'll try his damndest to love it.
AN: Another short chapter I know. Well we've all figured out that Tobias and Eric are no longer friends, but when will we see their inevitable fight? I promise you, it will happen soon, within the next couple chapters in fact. There's a reason I didn't have them fight each other in the first stage of initiation. I felt the story needed to build up to the moment they fight, so it'll feel earned. And when you do see it, it's gonna be epic! Keep reading!