I lay in my bed, absolutely exhausted. I thought I'd do good here in Dauntless. I know how to fire a gun, I can throw knives, I can win a fight with a bit of extra effort... But I didn't do any of those during training. I missed the targets, and I lost my fights. I guess 4 years without doing those does that to you. I need to step it up! I'm at the bottom of the list. I cant go back to being factionless! I sit up and look around. I realize that I don't care how tired I am, I need the extra training.
I throw on my shoes and jog downstairs, to the training room. Everyone else is partying, but I don't see the point. Partying to celebrate getting into a place that you might not even stay in? Yea, thats logical. I grab a set of knives and begin throwing them at the target. Miss. Miss. Miss. This doesn't even feel as comfortable as it used to. I feel awkward, like I'm not standing right. I try a few different positions, and still I cant relax into it like I used to. Suddenly, a hand is on my stomach, guiding me into a new position, and I relax into it. The knife flies and nail the target in the head. "There it is." I whisper, before turning to see my assistant.
Being so short, I have to look up to see who it is, and I find Eric towering over me. "Oh, uh, thanks!" I smile a bit, and he just stares at me. "Don't thank me. You looked so pathetic I had to help." he said, and walked away. "Jack ass..." I mutter under my breath, before resuming my knife throwing. Now that I've got it, I don't miss a shot. I smile and clean up my knives, before picking up the gun they expect us to use. I can tell its off balance, but I know I'll figure it out. I aim, but just before I shoot, I shift into the position Eric showed me, and my bullet grazes the shoulder of the target. Well, at least I'm getting there. A few more shots and I've got it down once again.
Feeling much more confident, I move on to the punching bag. I quickly realize that this one wont be as easy, and find myself holding my stomach often. I lift my shirt and look at my stomach, revealing my scars and tattoos to eyes that I don't know are watching. One of my scars has opened up and now bleeds openly. "Damn." I whisper, applying pressure. It occurs to me that I am abnormally thin, too. I already suspected that I looked a bit malnourished, but I didn't realize how bad it was until now. I poke one of my ribs and sigh. "Gotta eat more..." I make a mental note. Finally, the watching eyes reveal themselves.
Turns out, Eric never left. "Whats that for?" he asks of the tattoo on my hip. Four stars all in a row, biggest to smallest, the biggest not much larger that the pad of my thumb, the smallest, my pinkie. I drop my shirt to cover the tattoo. "Nothing. It doesn't matter." I say it all much to quickly, and I know he suspects there is more to my story than I want to say. He shrugs, and walks around me. "Whatever. What about those scars? You been in a few scraps in your life? I thought the factionless were pretty nice to each other." I dont answer right away. "I am not discussing my past with you. This is my life now, and that's all that matters." I say quietly, obviously annoyed with his question.
"Fine." he shrugs once again. "Lets work on your strength then, huh?" I don't answer, but he knows I'll do as he says if it will help me get into Dauntless. "Drop and give me 20." I do, with some struggle at the end. "How hard is it to believe that I used to do 50 of these every morning for a stretch?" I mutter, and for the first time since I've gotten here, he laughs. This goes on for days, Eric pushing me to my breaking point, and me slowly getting better in training. I am nearly always exhausted, and I often miss meals, but Eric brings food to our training sessions, stuff thats high in carbs and fat for me, and slowly my weight comes up too.