Disclaimer: Disclaimed. SOTD: Banks/Waiting Game

Chapter 7

"Why," pants Tobias, hitting the punching bag again. He's surprisingly good for an initiate. "Are you . . . staring at me?!"

I force my teeth to let go of the chunk of my cheek they've been chewing on, and push his elbows in and up.

He's looking at me, shocked. His eyes are narrowed, and his lips are open, and-

Quit looking at his lips!

"Keep your elbows in. And punch higher. You're not gonna get anywhere if all you're doing is giving them oppurtunities to hit you harder."

He fractionally shrugs one shoulder, but nods thoughtfully, and goes at the heavy bag again.

His lips—dammit!-mouth something that I just barely catch. I can feel the power.

I hold back a smirk, and stop appraising his fighting technicues. That's how I felt. Except I wasn't carefree, I think, and sit on the bench by the door.

I wasn't just feeling a half-giddy childish power surge. I knew I could kill. And I was planing on it.

Dauntless was always my favorite of the factions. I would watch them jump off the trains every morning at school, secretly adimire their black clothing and fluidness in which they moved. I would wish I had the courage to steal one of their knives, or even just become friends with one of them, get them to help me, protect me . . . but of course, I never did. I was alone in my dull Abnegation house with the ghost of a mother I hated, a drunken father, and a half-brother whose guts I hated, until choosing day.

And even then, I was still alone. No one would know the secrets that ran around my mind at night, what nightmares tormented me, or why I refused to let them.

But I was afraid Tobias already did.