For once, I wake up without feeling the need to head to the training room. The clock reads 7am. Everyone's asleep, so I do the same.
When I wake again three hours later, I'm energetic. I wiggle out of my cocoon and move to sit up. All the initiates are in their beds, some of them in odd angles, all except Riley. Her bed is untouched. My eye twitches.Ew.
I get ready for the morning with nothing in mind. I practically skip to the mess hall, humming a song to myself. It's a good day. The hall is mostly empty; this day couldn't get any better.Grabbing an apple and chocolate cake that Jace recommended, I munch on the food by myself, thinking of absolutely nothing. Last night surely did the trick, I no longer feel wistful when thinking of my dogs. Is that what friends do to you? What have I been doing my whole life? The cake is delicious; definitely something I won't mind eating every day.
The mess hall door opens and my acquaintances walk in. They all seem hungover, nursing their foreheads and eyes droopy. That's my cue.I stand from my seat immediately, making a beeline for the exit when they move to the buffet line.
An idea crosses me as I skip my way to the Pit, so I enter the tattoo parlour. An oriental woman with dreadlocks introduces herself as Tori. Describing the tattoo I want, she draws it out, making edits here and there. I'm a little picky, but she seems happy to serve me, saying that my love for the dogs is refreshing and how she's never met someone like me. She starts drawing the image onto ribs and I'm full-on rambling to her. I'm describing my dog's appearances and how cute they are, like a teenage girl speaking about her crush. Tori's really entertained by my blabbering, the smile on her face unable to disappear. I leave out the whole chunk of how they have been trained to attack of course. I'm in the middle of telling her how I play with them when the needle starts pricking my skin. My voice immediately dies as my eyes squeeze shut. The Dauntless must be crazy to go through this every time they want to embed ink into their skin.Tori apologizes for the lack of warning, saying how she didn't want to break my happy bubble. Yeah, well, she broke it nonetheless.
I manage to wheeze out an 'I'm fine.' She tells me to ignore her as she continues. I refrain from snapping at her that one doesn't justignore the constant jab of needles. She has been nice to been the whole time, no need to let my emotions get ahead of myself. I take her advice and try to start up a ramble. Only a few words manage to escape before she goes 'Yeah, try not to speak. Talking makes the ribcage move.'
I spend the next hour gritting my teeth in agony. By the time she's done, everything's sore by how I tensed every muscle in my body. She covers up the tattoo with a bandage, passing me some ointment and explaining how to care for it. The ointment speeds the healing process to a week, I mentally scold myself for not waiting it out another week before getting inked. In my earlier bubble of happiness, I had completely neglected the fact that there was still a week left of physical training. Dumbass.
I move my jaw around before I manage to formulate a 'thank you', lower jaws aching from being clenched. She removes a small portion of my newly-replenished points, I thank her again.
My next stop is the hair salon. The shop is too bright for my liking, almost every counter is brimmed with mannequin heads of all hair colours. A female hairdresser with red hair attends to me. I do my best to not grimace at her mohawk. She works on my hair with deft movements. It takes me a while to fully relax on my seat, but eventually I do. My points are docked by half when I'm done, mainly because of how elaborate it is. The hairdresser compliments me on my choice. I thank her and start heading out of the salon, a grateful smile plaster on my face. I can't muster the will to compliment her back.
My acquaintances manage to catch me during lunch. My mood has dropped considerably since the moment I woke, so staying with them doesn't make it any worse than it already is.
"I like your hair." Skylar comments. She slides into the empty bench across me, Zack by her side.
I'm about to reply: 'I like it too.' But I catch myself at the last second, realising how stupid it would sound. "Thanks." I say instead. Riley and Jace sits to the right of me, whispering something to each other. "So, um, how was last night?" I attempt at conversation, feeling uncomfortable already.
"It was great! You should've seen Jace, he was dancing on the table tops shirtless!" Jace whines something in protest, his brain belatedly registering that there are more than one person on the table. I rub my face to cover my eye that's twitching, Skylar is rambling about how the party went and the embarrassing things her friends did. I listen in mild interest, nodding when I'm supposed to and forcing out a laugh when the rest do. Lunch passes by slowly, my head starts feeling heavy.
A familiar silence blankets the hall, I supress the urge to perk up my head. Skylar and Jace are having a debate on the best dark colours. I don't even know how the topic came about. Eric's at the buffet line, he dons his iconic sleeveless vest and black cargo pants. I sneak glances at him every now and then. He takes a seat on the table in front of us, alone. At one point, his eyes find mine. I can't look away. He seems slightly pale today, cheeks hollowed and posture tired. I'm not sure if he's hungover or had a rough night, not that I would like either of the answers. Eric still doesn't look away as he starts eating his food. I have an urge to ask him why he always stares at me, but I do the same to him. And I can't answer that question myself. He's a pretty face to look at, sadistic tendencies aside. Does he find me attractive then? My neck heats up at that thought. I swallow thickly. Eric's eating a piece of steak, causing my tongue to unconsciously darts out and lick my lips. As if expected, his eyes darken considerably. I take a sip of water.
"Why is Eric staring at you?" An new unfamiliar voice enters, it's Zack's. For all the times he could've spoken, he chose now?
The water lodges itself in my throat, I start choking. "Pardon?" I rasp out. Great. One night with Four and I'm already sounding like him.
"Eric, he's sitting in the table behind me. He's staring at you." Now everyone on my table is looking between him and me. Awesome. Just. Flipping. Awesome.
My brain tries to evaluate the best path of escape. I couldn't tell them that I don't know, cause Zack would probably call me out for staring at him as well. But I couldn't tell them anything else that wouldn't have a loophole. I start mumbling a few curses under my breath. Stupid boy who decided he wasn't going to be mute today. Stupid Zack.I sneak a glance back at the young leader to find him still watching at me – unabashedly.
He isthe guy at the fence. There was no denying it now. Fear suddenly courses through me. Eric is the guy at the fence.The puzzles begin to click in place; there was no way he wasn't. Eric lifts an eyebrow questioningly when I tumble out of my seat. I pick my tray up with a hand, but then it starts to shake, so I grab it with my other. "Sorry, I gotta go." I excuse myself quickly, blood in my veins turning cold. Everything makes sense now: his reaction to the guard at the fence, the spot he brought us to. He's upset cause I wasn't at the fields every evening, like I was every day. He's looking for me.
"Anna?" Jace stands to follow me. "Anna, Anna, hey!" My steps don't slow. I dump the tray with the others and toss my cutlery, momentarily thankful that I cleaned everything on my tray when I was eating. "Anna, slow down. Was it what Zack said?" My steps falter briefly. Of course it's what Zack said.I want to scream at him, maybe throw a tray for good measure. I am panicking and fuming. If his friend didn't open his fat mouth I would still be ogling Eric, and him me.
But no…Zack opened his mouth, and everything clicked into place.
"I want to be alone." I finally say, facing to Jace to show him that I wasn't crying.
He's confused; I don't blame him. "Okay, just er, come talk to us when you feel better or something." He scratches his neck awkwardly. I manage a small smile and dash out of the hall.
I don't know what to do.
I'm confused. I'm angry. I'm conflicted. So here I am, doing what I know best ever since I left my home: taking it out in the training room. The bag sways violently each time I take a swing, but it doesn't do enough to distract me. Pain rips at my side from the stretching of the tattoo, yet it still isn't enough.
The man was – is Eric.
Eric, the man who's been conspiring with Jeanine.
Eric, the man who introduced the cut-system and no-conceding rule.
Eric, the man who doesn't bat an eye when Cole took it too far.
Eric, the man who seems to like staring at me.
Eric, the man who panicked when I broke down.
Eric, the man who never once scolded me, not even for sparing Mark.
Eric, the man who sought out comfort in me, because of me.
I sigh. I don't know what to do. The bag is smeared with blood, no doubt from my split knuckles. I cringe when I lift them to my face, they look horrible. My arm aches and my shoulders sag, drained out mentally and physically. The layer of sweat around my body should make me feel accomplished, but it's more of a nuisance now.
The water only makes my hands sting, I hiss. I should probably head to the infirmary. Walking down the hallway, my mind begins to dissect the situation. There are a few conclusions I draw.
One.
Eric's response to the guard shows that he has been keeping tabs on me. He must've been watching me for more than once, otherwise he wouldn't have cared if I disappeared. His dispirited mood from the train implies that he's developed a bond with the girl in the fields. As much as this made sense, it also didn't. Why would a sadistic Dauntless leader, associate himself with a happy-go-lucky Amity? Eric doesn't seem to be the type to like them, and I doubt he does. The young leader is the epitome of brutality and Dauntless, not that I've actually seen him fight.
Two.
Eric doesn't know that the girl is me. If he did, he would probably be acting differently, elated maybe. After all, the girl he's been stalking pretty much fell into his arms – willingly. I think back on how he hasn't connected the dots. My attire in Amity was always mustard shirts and red knee-length skirts. I didn't come to Dauntless wearing that. Plus, my hair is always tied except when I sleep. But, even if he can't put the two and two together, that still doesn't explain his tendencies to watch me. He doesn't do the same with the rest of the population, at least, I think he doesn't. Why me?
The infirmary smells of antiseptic and floor-cleaner. I'm just thankful that I found it after only being here once to get the mandatory shots. The nurse examines at my hands when I show them to her, her face screams disapproval. She questions the reason for my wounds. Apparently it's a known fact that Sundays are rest days for initiates. I do my best to answer truthfully, except for the part of why I was there.
Four's at the door of the infirmary when I exit. "You alright?" He asks. He glances at my bandaged knuckles questioningly, eyes moving back up to meet mine.
I start heading back to the dorms, I need a shower. "How did you know I was here?"
His nostrils flare in amusement. "I work in the control room, saw you exiting the training room earlier." Huh. "There are motion detectors, so I'm informed when someone enters and exits the training room outside of the normal hours." He continues.
I bet that's how Eric first found me. "Ah." Four strolls beside me, his thumbs stuffed in his pockets and relaxed. He looks good like this, when he isn't all instructor mode. Scratch that, he looks good either way. "I learned about something during lunch, had to find a way to cool off."
Four stays silent. I'm glad that he doesn't push. "Your new hair suits you." He comments. Unlike earlier, this time, I smile. My espresso brown hair has been dyed balayage, the dark tone fades out silver and blonde streaks. The idea came as a whim, a sudden thought to honour my dogs. I look up at him and smile, this time it's genuine. The colours I chose don't scream Dauntless, but I won't have it any other way.
"Thanks." The walk back to the dorms is quiet, and my mind finally feels at peace. I'm thankful that Four showed up. He has knack for calming me, even if unintentional.
A/N
I just fell asleep with my hands on the keyboard, sorry that I can't add more.
Checked on my previous chapters on italics. I noticed that some of the words went missing in chapter 5, sorry that you guys had to read that.
Wrote a lot today, was stuck in one of the future chapters, but I'm glad that's over.