Visitation Day is tomorrow, which makes today the last day of stage one.

I squint at the writing on the board.

Cob.

Cde.

For the benefit of all, Eric should be writing instead.

My hands rub eyes as if it will clear my almost-perfect vision. Miraculously, it worked, and I immediately regret it.

I'm against Cole.

Cole. The only other initiate who has remained undefeated.

Cole. The only initiate whose given his opponents cracked ribs and broken noses.

Cole. The most heartless of all I've met.

Cole. The one ranked first among us.

I rest my fingers against my lips, letting the information sink in. The beast inside me paces, whispering all I can do to him. Rage slowly fills me as I think about all those who've been unfortunate enough to be paired with him.

I could avenge them, teach him a lesson he won't forget.

Cole stands with the rest of the boys, head held high and unfazed by his opponent. I tilt my head as I watch him conversing. If there was anyone who deserves pain, it would be this louse. A smile creeps up my lips as I picture Sabre beside me, hackles raised and teeth bared.

One simple command and the initiate will never walk again.

The scene in my head is vivid. I can imagine the sheer panic and fear that will fill his face as the merciless hound tears his way to him. The way he screams and tries to escape, only to be knocked down hard onto the concrete floor. Maybe he'll break his nose during that fall, or maybe Sabre will do the honor. Cole will be completely at the hound's mercy, no training from Four will protect him.

I wonder what his screams sound like.

A girl's? High-pitched and sissy.

Or a pig's? Squealing and pathetic.

I can imagine the state Sabre will leave him, disfigured and barely alive, just a fraction of what he deserves for what he has done to others. Sabre will trot right up to me, tail wagging and head held high, with his beautiful dark-grey muzzle tainted dark with blood. The blood of someone who doesn't deserve mercy. I would get down on my knees then, welcoming my pride and joy with open arms. A beautiful day that would be.

"I know what you're thinking." A familiar velvet voice says beside me.

I straighten my spine and turn towards my only friend. "Tell me he doesn't deserve it."

The man is silent beside me, the heat he's emitting being the only indication he hadn't left.

Cole laughs at a snide joke Mark said, throwing his head back and slapping his back in response. He sees me watching after he sobered up. My head only tilts further, feeling no embarrassment to be caught staring. Shooting me a sneer, he goes back to his friends. He speaks quieter this time, and they all glance furtively to me.

Through my almost two weeks of being here in Dauntless, I've yet to find one redeemable quality of this despicable boy. "You say that, but Eric's no better than him." My whole-body tenses at the mention of the handsome leader. How dare- "Eric is ruthless, you've seen-"

"Eric is different." I snap back immediately, eyes promptly narrowing to slits at the man beside me.

"Is he?" Four challenges, taking a step to face me. His arms are crossed and his face is hard. I don't back down. "Pray tell."

Is he?

I'm suddenly struck with doubt, Cole and his antics long forgotten. Four was in the same initiate class as the young leader, surely he of all people would know what Eric was, and is like. My face scrunches into distaste at the fact. From what I've seen, Eric seems to enjoy the fights, unlike Four who's mostly uncomfortable unless the person is paired with me. Eric is like Cole. The only difference is he stands on the sidelines instead. The seriousness on Four's face tells me were Eric be in the initiate's position, he wouldn't hesitate to beat his opponent into a bloody pulp.

No.

I've seen Eric; the man without his walls. I know he is nothing like Cole.

Do I though?

Does he having taken an interest in me change the person he truly is? I open my mouth but no words form. I'm speechless. I'm speechless because stupid number-boy has a point. Looks aside, why do I like Eric? Because he treats me differently? And I'm spared by Dauntless' most brutal man?Because he has never yelled or raised a hand on me? That should be the bare minimum a man should do to his girl; given that he regards me as that.

Why do I like him?

I've never sat down and evaluated. I recall my last night back in Amity, how I decided not to associate myself with him. What changed? My brows furrow as I ponder. As far as I can see, Eric hasn't exactly changed his ways.

Sure, he cares about me a little bit more than normal, but that shouldn't cover up his flaws. My mind is muddled, suddenly realizing that I don't know why I'm attracted to him.

Am I attracted to the man inside? Or outside?

The only thing I do know is that I care for him; and I have no idea why.

The man of subject enters the training room then, causing Four to slink away and call for the first fights.

Eric's tired today.

His shoulders are slumping, so slightly that it's barely noticeable. His face doesn't sport its signature scowl or sneer, just flat and dull. Four was right a few days ago during capture-the-flag, he must've known that by letting Eric win, he would get a few days spared from arguing with him. Eric had strutted around Dauntless like a peacock with a fixed smirk on his lips, boasting about how he gunned down number-boy and two other initiates in the span of a minute and took the flag.

I'm not sure if I was included in his conversations with the members, being too distracted by his high-spirited moods. It was a refreshing sight, one that makes me smile like a buffoon.

But like all good things, it must come to an end. Sadly, it wasn't long enough for me. Eric stands in front of the board containing the fighting pairs. I can see his eye twitch in irritation. "Fucking chicken scrawl." He curses loud enough for me, who's standing a few feet to the side of him, to hear.

Finally, someone on my side.

The leader places his hands on the hips, craning his neck to decipher number-boy's writing. Four tried to write differently today, ditching the cursive tails for cramped letters. I suppose his handwriting today is marginally better, despite the vast difference in style.

By the time he read the last pair – mine's - his scowl is now etched on his face. The young leader strides over to the instructor, stepping over the bruised dark-skin Erudite girl unperturbed before taking his place beside Four.

I move to sit with Riley, suddenly feeling unsettled. My mind is blank as the sheets Four likes to read. I don't know what to make of the leader and I don't want to figure it out. Riley seems nervous, her hands fidget and her eyes dart around too much. She's up against Ruby today – the second-best female fighter.

The urge for a distraction gnaws at me. "Hit here." I point at the carotid sinus on my neck.

"What?"

The eye further away from her twitches. There's no way one had somehow managed to evade watching any of my matches.I tuck my feet underneath me and push myself to stand. Teaching Riley would provide a good distraction from all the crap that's going on in my head. "Come on, I'll give you some pointers." I'd decided not to repeat myself.

The Candor perks up immediately, eyes bright and smile wide. "Really?"

No. It's just false hope.

"Yes," I say tightly.

Riley hops onto her feet, following me to an empty mat in the room. Her brown eyes hold a gleam in them, something I've never seen before – hope.

We don't have much time, since Riley's fight will be up next. "Ruby is smart, but not smart enough." I start. "She hits with her right arm, using the left to guard her face." I move up my hands to mimic her punch. Riley nods as she watches, completely engrossed on everything I say. "The moment you see her punching, kick her right side. You're flexible and quick enough to intercept her that way. Once that happens, grab her left arm and pull it across her body, which will expose her neck. Then hit the spot I told you to." I grab Riley's hand and bring my other hand down vertically, showing her the force needed to quickly knock someone out.

Riley's jaw unhinges at the strength requires to pull off the move. I don't react, my expectations of her knowing anything low.

"Don't do this at the start. You need to wear her out first." I continue to explain how to predict a person's next movements and how to intercept or dodge them. Riley nods her head, testing them out on me. We continue like this for a few minutes.

Teaching someone how to protect themselves is oddly enjoyable. And for once, I don't find the exercise draining.

Perhaps it's the idea of coaching someone to hone their skills and techniques effectively without causing inessential harm to the opposite party.

"Riley and Ruby." Four announces. Riley turns to me and smiles, feeling confident for the first time.

"You can do-" I'm cut off by the rush of air escaping my lungs. A pair of thin arms wrap around my body, almost bordering suffocating. I'm stumped. This is my first hug in two weeks, and I didn't realize how much I miss it,.

It takes me a while to respond, but I eventually wrap my arms around her. Riley smells like vanilla, a sweet calming scent I've never actually noticed on her. "Thank you." She says. I grunt in response, her grip unyielding. "For everything." Her tone is soft and sincere; real.

As she pulls away, I can't help but wonder what she meant. Everything as in fighting techniques? Or everything as in Jace and all the times I helped her? Riley moves to the mat with her back straight; confidence looks good on her. My mind tells me that it's the latter. I feel so too.

Riley wins the match.

A surge of pride rushes through me as I watch her using the tricks I've just taught her. She wore Ruby out, knocking her down by kicking the back of her knees right after she sidestepped an incoming hit. Watching her reminds me of me. Perhaps this was this what mom felt when I first started training, proud and content.

We don't do this their way, but the right way, she always reminded, forever patient when I complained about the moves being too gentle and soft.

I see that now. My heart swells for the love I feel for my mother, she's perfect in every way. Gentle, patient, kind, and dangerous. Visitation day is tomorrow, meaning that in twenty-four hours, I'll be reunited with her and dad. My insides bubble with excitement at the thought of seeing them again. They are the world to me.

Everyone – even me – was shocked when Riley came out as the victor. This is the first match she won, so the reactions of everyone are as predicted. Four pats her back and congratulates her, helping her pull Ruby off the ring. The moment Four lets her go, she runs to me, squealing and full of gratitude. I can't stop the grin that forms on my face, her happiness contagious. She thanks me profusely, rambling about how she managed to dodge most of the hits by reading her opponent's facial features and gaze. I laugh as she embraces me, tears brimming her eyes in shock and glee.

But unlike her, my happiness is short-lived.

"Anna and Cole."

Right.

I had forgotten about my fight with the scum. My arms fall away to my side as all the mirth seeps out of my face. Riley immediately tenses, giving me one last squeeze before pulling away. She mumbles a 'good luck' as I step away from her, stoically striding up the mat.

Cole reminds me of a deranged bull; his fists are clenched to his side and all his muscles have been pulled taut. My head tilts slightly and my eye twitches.

I didn't know intimidation stances are a thing now.

I take my place on the opposite side of the mat, stretching out my arms and legs before rolling back my shoulders. There's a ringing sound in my ears, one that blocks out all noise. I'm not sure what to do to the bulky Erudite, whether to hurt him or not. But I'm not given time to think because he's already in my face, a fist heading straight to my face. My arm instinctively moves up to block the punch. The impact of fist colliding with arm sends a sear of pain through my forearm.

My heart skips a beat.

Adrenaline pumps into my veins as his fist grazes my cheek, my movements almost too slow to dodge it. My breathing picks up as I twist away, forcing a good distance between us. No thoughts form in my head as he lunges towards me, arms outstretched and aiming for my neck. I yelp as he manages to latch onto my arm instead, pulling me down with him to the ground. My skull slams into the horribly-cushioned mat, the impact making my head sting.

Black dots starting to form in my vision.

Crap.

I twist my arm away from his hand, scrambling back up onto my two feet. By now, blood pounds in my ears, deafening and unceasing. Panic sets in and my hands grow clammy. My world spins as I force myself to get a grip.

But I can't.

I'm afraid.

Cole lunges before I've fully recovered. My feet yank my body away from him, all coherent thoughts flying out of the window as the will to survive kicks in. Fear pulses through me as I continue to twist and crouch to avoid his hits. My arms ache from blocking the hard punches, undoubtedly beginning to bruise. Each breath I take is short and quick, panicked and ragged.

Cole shows no signs of slowing down, but I am.

My head spins from dizziness, clouded with fear and nothing else. I feel myself losing, my movements turning sloppy.

I'm afraid; I'm afraid; I'm afraid.

A sharp pain shoots up my side, making me stumble back. I didn't see his shoe coming up; the ringing and pounding in my ears coupled with my blackening vision too overwhelming to focus. Air escapes from me as my body is forced out of its axis. Gravity pulls me down hard, back slamming onto the ground to fast for me to brace myself. Lead weighs my arms down, too heavy to push myself up or protect my face. I wait for pain to rip my side, the kicks that Cole always sends to take out his anger. It doesn't come.

Instead, something presses itself on my lower body – his.

Something snaps in me then, the cloud of fogginess lifting. Cole is on top of me, a position I'm uncomfortable and alien to. His arms cage me in, his hips pin me down. Cole's eyes are cold and foul, something unrecognizable swimming within them.

I feel threatened and exposed.

My mother's voice screams into my ear; it's the first thing I've heard since the match began. TRIANGLE! Her voice is shrill and piercing, cutting through all the pain and din.

My movements become robotic, defense mechanism kicking in. I grab his hand on my right and force it to his chest, my leg immediately slinging up to his neck. My ankles lock against each other while my other hand slings onto my left leg, forcing his other arm in place. Cole shouts in surprise, suddenly being yanked against me. My body twists towards his outstretched arm, hands grabbing and twisting his arm into an odd angle.

I don't think, I just do.

A sickening loud 'pop' is heard and Cole promptly screams.

He bucks against me and I pull his arm across his chest in the span of a millisecond. My thighs squeeze together to force him still. I tip us to the side before he attempts to straighten his back. His screams make my ears burn but does nothing to my unyielding hold.

Pass out.

Is what I silently plead despite what I've done. I lock his free arm using mine as he struggles for air. The moment his screams contort to wheezes, I know there's not much longer.

Please pass out.

It takes him a moment longer to oblige.

Legs untangle themselves away from him and I push the limp initiate off me. He flops onto his back, arm still twisted in an unnatural angle. Cole's face is purple from the lack of oxygen.

The sight is sickening.

And I only make it to my fours before my breakfast hurls out of my body. My stomach lurches as I heave a few feet beside the boy. The acid burns my throat and mouth, making tears well at my eyes. I heave until I can't anymore, until my stomach ache and face stings.

I'm never doing this again.

The second my urge to heave halts is the moment I register the pin-drop silence. I don't look up, afraid of what I'll see. Instead, I crawl away from the boy and my vomit, the smell aggravating my nose. Pain shoots up from my side where Cole's boot had made contact, and I wince.

Only when I've collapsed onto the mat does anyone say anything.

"Mark and Joe, take Cole to the infirmary." Four's voice is robotic and monotoned, like he's not really in the now. There's a shuffle of footsteps as the boys move to pick up their friend. I don't turn to look at them, exhausted. My limbs are heavy with lead and I can't move, having given up now danger has passed. "You all have the rest of today off. Enjoy your weekend." My body aches, the adrenaline wearing off to reveal the injuries I've sustained during my fight. Another pair of footsteps register in my ears, this time softer and timid. "Don't worry about her Riley, we'll handle her."

"But-"

"Leave." A new voice interjects, irritated and final – Eric's.

The footsteps pause, as if lost on what to do. For a few seconds, no noise is made. My eyes close in weariness, seeing no point in staring at the bloodied mat any longer. Riley whispers something I don't quite catch, and my world turns black.

A/N

There's more to this chapter but I split it in two since it was so long.

[From the future] I'm slowly editing my previous chapters, starting with this cause of how badly it was written. I'll be working on improving the rest without any specific order :P