1. Joe

2. Anna

3. Cole

4. Jace

5. Skylar

My eyes skim past the names I don't recognize nor care about, pausing briefly at 8 and 13 where Zack and Riley sit respectively. As her friend, I should be concerned that she is teetering along the edge of becoming factionless. These past few days haven't done anyone good, and judging by my occasional nightmares, that includes me too. However, the worst of all was the currently green Candor slumping in the arms of Jace. It is her screaming and sobbing that keeps most of us awake through the night, resulting in most of the transfers taking naps in the afternoon. It's honestly a miracle that she isn't dead bottom.

But the shaken girl was the least of my worries. Right next to the rankings of our progress report is our simulation times. Joe's time is a four minute average, a stark difference from my ten and Cole's eleven. There was no doubt that the lousy shooter is a divergent the moment I saw the single digit next to him name. Eric will definitely on his case, if he wasn't already.

I pray that what Four said about him culling divergents was just a scare tactic.

The said instructor stands stoically by the board, a clipboard tucked under his arm. He doesn't not meet my panicked gaze, blue eyes hopping from initiate to initiate with the exception of me. I want to speak with him, to demand why he didn't help Joe and what will happen to him. This boy is in danger, and it's now too late to help him.

The initiate remains clueless of what his actions entail. He whoops and cheers with his group of friends while they congratulate him, completely oblivious that he cheated the system. I stop trying to catch the instructor's eye, trusting that this matter is in his hands and that questioning his actions would only goad him to snap. So, I decide tap Skylar on the shoulder, asking whether she would like to hangout. She says yes without hesitation, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement for it was the first time I instigated a social event. We exit the training room then, leaving sobbing messes and endangered lives behind.

It was when I believed Four and I was only being paranoid that my friend proved himself right.

Today is Sunday, two days after the ranking announcements. From the moment the rankings have been released up till last night, I had been keeping tabs on the lousy shooter. All was well; Eric was nowhere near the foolish boy while Joe spent the day off getting tattooed and drinking. I even stayed awake through the night, ears twitching towards any noise made from outside the door.

Yet despite my efforts and knowledge, I still stand by the chasm dumbstruck. Eric perches on a wooden platform that had been placed moments ago, a black body bag a foot beneath him. The young leader is delivering a speech on his self-inflicted death, proclaiming how brave he is for choosing to travel into the unknown.

All around me are Dauntless members with drinks in their hands, cheering loudly when needed; their din burns my ears. Unlike them, who celebrate the murder of an innocent initiate, I stand passively on the bridge. My back leans against the railing and my gaze is transfixed on the leader, watching him for any signs of anything. Whatever words that flow from his mouth fly over my head; it is a stupid speech, one that I suspect he's forced to do. He's too smart for his own good, features schooled to his leader mode – emotionless and giving nothing away.

The speech ends with chants of 'Joe' by people who don't even know him. I am no hypocrite, which is why I don't join in, even if it's out of respect for the dead. The idea of staying till everything boils over so I could see where the body is to be disposed is very tempting, but it gets crushed when a drunk Dauntless bumps into me. My façade snaps then, revealing a sleep deprived, exasperated me. I shove him back, resulting him toppling forward face-first.

My hand shoots out like a viper and encircles my instructor's arm. Judging by how he did not flinch and instead follow me towards the tunnels without hesitation, he knew this was coming. We arrive at a dark alcove, the deafening din fading to a low rumble.

He beats me to speak. "There was nothing I could've done."

My eye twitches in exhaustion and irritation. I want to snap at him, instructor or not, for the life of the dead boy was in his hands. But I don't; silence is what I resort to in situations such as these.

Four sighs defeatedly and takes a seat across me. "On the first day of stage two, I was supposed to take care of Joe while Lauren does you. I knew what you were and gave the excuse of you having panic attacks so I could swap the both of you." My mouth start to move but he cuts me off. "When I saw the times later that day, it was already too late. Lauren herself had compiled everything. Were I to delete the results, Eric would be on to me. I did view the simulation, hoping that he did not indicate his awareness. But alas, the stupid boy was screaming that it was a simulation right before it ended. There was nothing I could do then, only to ignore his times and pretend he wasn't a cow to the slaughterhouse." His shoulders had slumped down when he finished, an odd reaction for someone who did not care about the boy.

Technically, Joe is dead because of me. I should feel guilty; share the burden with the instructor even, but I don't. "He wasn't going to last anyways." I say. It's the truth. It's rather remarkable that Joe had gone so long without being detected. He shouldn't have been able to go past the aptitude test if he was divergent. Perhaps like me, he did choose the most obvious path to get to Dauntless by coincidence.

"But I failed him as an instructor. Had I keep an eye on him-"

"And there's nothing you can do about it now. What is done is done." The lack of sleep this past week is now taking a toll on me. Add on the death of a divergent by Eric, I'm just about had it. "It's in the past now. Not much can be done now but move on." My voice is void of emotion or care, yearning for rest.

Four doesn't speak further, only sighing dejectedly with his shoulders slumped and eyes to the ground. His posture mimics mine, except for totally different reasons. I don't say anything back, exhaustion and stress makes me clamp my mouth shut, for only a tiny nudge would make me snap.

We stay like that for a while, with Four letting his failure sink in while I doze off. Eventually it's his quiet 'thanks' that wakes me. I merely grunt at him and mumble an 'anytime' before we parted ways, me trudging to the dormitory for a long due nap.

I woke right before dinner; which meant I had slept through lunch. Though I am no longer fatigued, my mood hasn't lifted.

Dinner at my table was a miraculously quiet affair. It had momentarily slipped my mind that an initiated died today, making me stare stupidly at the solemn faces of the initiates. As irritating as the chatter may sometimes be, I've unfortunately grown used to it.

Now I sit at a bar alone, a bottle of apple cider in front of me. The alcoholic drink was unplanned, for I'm aware of the effects and dangers surrounding such a peculiarly liked beverage. But with all that's boiling over about Eric, I figured that perhaps a drink to unwind was well deserved.

The apple cider is bittersweet; both figuratively and literally. Swooshing the liquid in my mouth, the taste of apple is unmistakable. The flavor brings the comfort of familiarity, especially with the introduction of consuming alcohol. But with apple comes the nostalgia of home. The sweet refreshing drink taunts me on how I wouldn't be in this situation if I had stayed in Amity; it's not wrong.

My mind is numb with disappointment, so I watch the fizzing in the pale-yellow liquid. The bottle is less than half empty since being opened half an hour ago; me savoring each sip with all the time in the world.

"Didn't think I would've ever see you again." An unfamiliar voice pipes from behind me. It is only when the man sides into the barstool next to mine do I realize that the statement was directed to me. I stare blankly at the blond Dauntless, too emotionally drained to even be confused. My inability to identify the man doesn't last long as he clears it up for me. "Sorry about the other day, wasn't in my right mind." The toned man scratches his neck and chuckles nervously. He must've been the drunk that day I hung out with Four.

I couldn't care less about the drunk. "It's fine." Please leave.

He doesn't; in fact, he does the exact opposite – order a drink. After a word of 'scotch', he shifts his body to face me. "Can we start over?" My fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle. "My name is Liam."

I'm about to snap at him to leave me alone but I catch myself at the last moment. As annoying as his presence already is, he is being what I need the most – a distraction.

With a newfound purpose, I take a swing from the bottle and turn to face him, a gesture to indicate that his efforts aren't futile. "Anna."

His face brightens considerably, making his hazel eyes pop under the lights. A fine male specimen this man is, probably only a few years older than me. "Anna? The Amity transfer? You've been the talk since initiation started!" His voice takes a high excitable tone, as if he's speaking to a celebrity. "Are the rumors true then?"

I blink. "What rumors?"

He looks at me incredulously like I've grown two heads. "That you've won every fight without bloodshed of course!" Ah, should've known what he was referring to.

"I suppose so, yeah." It's really not a big deal.

Liam's mouth opens and closes, like a gaping fish. I take another swing from the bottle, slightly weirded out. It takes him a while to compose himself, but I'm glad when he eventually does. "So, urm, how do you do it?"

I blink. "My mother was from Dauntless, she taught me a few tricks before I left." I shrug nonchalantly. We slip into casual conversation then, with time starting to fly by quickly. I learn that John works at the transport station, meaning that he sorts out all the shipments that come into Dauntless. It's interesting to listen to all the items that are brought from the shipments, as well as how custom orders are made. For the first time since I came back from Amity, I feel relaxed and carefree, maybe I should come here more often.

Liam is an interesting soul. He claims that he transferred from Candor and was in the same initiate class as Eric and Four. I don't bother asking him about the two men since he seems just fine blabbering away about his experience. An added bonus is that his voice is silvery, a tone I won't mind listening to for the rest of the night.

Another quirk of Liam is that he's an incredible storyteller, especially when it comes to talking about comical events at in work. I'm in the middle of giggling about his first encounter with a literal banjo-strummer when we're interrupted. "Anna."

I turn towards a stiff Eric, still giggling like a kid. "Oh hi Eric!" Liam's face turns visibly pale like he's just seen a ghost; I don't see it though. "Have you met Liam? You guys were in the same initiate class together! He's a really nice guy."

Eric stares at the man beside me for a moment before eyeing the empty bottle on the counter and the full one in my hand. "You've been drinking."

My face perks up with excitement and I take a swing. "I have! Have you tried apple cider? These are really- Hey!" The bottle is snatched out of my grasp. "Go get your own mister!"

I'm about to order another one when my arm is grabbed and I'm hauled out of my seat. "We're leaving."

My lips turn down into the shape of an 'n'. "Aww… fine… But wait!" I strain my neck to turn back to my drinking buddy. "We should hang out more yeah?" The frozen man manages to force out a stiff nod, eyes wide and mouth clamped shut. What's up with him?

When we step out of the bar, I suck in a deep breath of air and stretch my back. "Liam's a nice guy, and he's good looking too." My voice then drops into a whisper and I tiptoe to the leader. "Between you and me, I think I might just say yes if he asks me out." The hand on my arm tightens and I break out into a fit of giggles.

"Is that so?" Eric's voice is low like a rumble; sexy.

"Yep!" With the 'p' popping at the end. "Nice guy, sexy voice- oh hey! I know you! You're Eric's friend!" My arm tugs free from Eric's grasp as my feet brake mid-way. "I'm Anna! And I like warm hugs!" Silver stares at my stuck-out hand oddly before glancing up to the man beside me. It takes me a moment to realize my mistake. "Oh wait, that's Olaf. Right. Sorry."

"Interesting choice of women." He says, eyeing my hand warily. I huff and drop my arm pathetically.

"She's drunk." The man beside me replies monotonously.

A gasp leaves my lips and I step away from him betrayed. "I am not drunk! And give me that!" I lunge for my bottle only to have him sidestep away. The apple goodness now hangs mockingly above my head, too far up for me to jump and grab it; I know this because I tried futilely.

"Definitely drunk." Eric affirms. My mouth moves to protest but Eric speaks up again, cutting off anything I want to say. "Thanks. I'll be bringing her back now."

Silver nods at him, both of them completely ignoring my presence. "I'll see you around." With that, he slinks away deeper into the Pit. Silver reminds me of Sabre, with the main constitute being his hair color.

"Can I have back my drink now?"

"No."

Eric moves the opening of the bottle to his lips; my eyes widen in alarm immediately. He isn't doing what I think he's doing, is he? "No wait!" He then proceeds to drink from it. Heck. My shoulders slump in horror; I used my own points for that.

His face scrunches up in confusion. "What's the alcoholic percentage in this?" He twists the bottle around and brings it up to his eye level. "Four point five? That's hardly anything, and you're drunk over this?"

"I am not drunk!"

"That's exactly what a drunk would say."

I sigh exasperatedly and throw my hands in the air. "What on earth am I supposed to say if I'm not drunk then?"

"Point taken." The bottle is held out in front of me. "You can have this back."

Nothing stops the glare that comes. "Well now I don't want it." I huff, arms crossed defiantly.

His eyebrows shoot up. "Why not?"

My eye twitches. Did he really ask such a ridiculous question? "Because boys have cooties!" I exclaim childishly.

"Well you didn't seem to have a problem with that when it came to Liam." His snarl is vicious enough to contend with my dogs', how amusing.

My jaw drops. "There's a big difference between talking and kissing!"

"He wanted to kiss you."

"No he didn't!"

"Yes, he did."

"Stop being-" At that moment, the tip of my shoe unwittingly collides with something hard. I yelp at the sharp pain as my world starts to tilt.

But the impact doesn't arrive. "For fuck's sake, can you at least walk without tripping?" Eric snaps irritatingly.

"Fuck you!" My arm yanks out of his grasp once again. "Don't blame me! Blame the uneven-"

The words die on my tongue as I recognize the hallway we are heading towards, all playfulness flying out. A scowl overtakes my face. "I don't want to go there."

Eric follows my lead and stops walking. "But that's where you sleep...?"

"That's where I lose sleep." I correct distastefully and then mumble more to myself. "Stupid everyone and their stupid fears."

Eric pauses as if unsure; though I'm not sure what. "Right." He says finally. We walk off to the opposite direction; well, Eric does the walking while I attempt to skip. The feat doesn't last as my head starts spinning and my vision blurs.

A split-second decision is made and I'm leaning onto the bulky man for support. It is a wonder why I didn't do this earlier, it's so much easier to walk now; plus, he smells really good too. The support tenses before relaxing, an arm slowly sliding its way over my shoulders and then pulling me close.

Only with the warmth radiating off him does the chillness of Dauntless start to sink in. A brief thought passes through me that Eric would do well having a job of being a human heater, but I'll probably spend every last point I have to book him so I won't have to share. I definitely don't want to share.

Eric is now forbidden to partake in such a job.

The heater leads us to unfamiliar twists and turns that I doubt I would ever remember. "I like this." He speaks up from the silence. From the faint blue glow of the lights, I assume that he's referring to my bottle of cider that now sits almost empty.

"I told you; good stuff." My voice has lost its previous excitement, exhaustion slowly settling in. Eric pretty much carries most of my weight now; it doesn't help when he allows me to sag against him. What can I say? He is big and warm; even now, he outcompetes with the bed in the dorm.

We lapse into a comfortable silence again, or at least that's what I think happened.

A/N

Will only be able to update on next Tuesday. I have a camp going on and will be distracted. (I'm distracted now too .-.)

This chapter was fun to write, cause the scene was playing out well in my head.