I wrote this at three am in the morning whilst listening to High School Musical so I apologize in advance if there are any mistakes.

Tris

I don't know how much time has passed when the door to my cell opens, minutes, hours, maybe a day later. But I find myself squinting as the room is suddenly filled with light I didn't know had been missing.

It takes me only a few seconds before my eyes have adjusted and I'm on my feet, instincts taking over, and I most likely would have gotten the unsuspecting guy on the ground if it wasn't for the other three that followed him. One grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the cell, whilst two were behind me and one was in front. You'd think I was some kind of master criminal/escape artist.

I am again led down a series of hallways and passages, each one looking the same as the last, until it is hopeless that I would ever find my way out of here, and through a white double door into a large room.

My eyes immediately land on the only other person in the room and I recognise her face anywhere: Jeanine Matthews. She's smiling, though it doesn't reach her eyes, hands clasped in front of her, standing by the second object I see - a large reclined metal table, complete with wrist and ankle restraints. I start to panic when I see the restraints and the grip on my wrist tightens to almost bone crushing pressure, but I can't really feel it. All I feel is the need to get away, to get away and escape Jeanine Matthews and her metal chair of torture. I twist my arm, almost dislocate it, to get it out of the man's grip, and when it doesn't come lose I kick his shins from behind and being my elbow back to his nose. He cries out and my wrist is free. I make a mad dash for the door as I hear Jeanine call out "someone restrain her!" Her voice sounding exasperated, as if she did this every day.

I reach out, my fingers an inch from touching the door, when someone launches themselves at me, grabbing my waist and taking me down with them. My chin whacks against the cold, linoleum floor, and sends black dots to cloud my vision.

I am vaguely aware of hands on my arms, pulling me over to the table, strapping me down, and voices, so many voices. Male and Female, gruff and smooth, yet none of them making any sense. It's like the whole world has gone into slow motion except from me, and I'm moving at a different pace from everyone else-

Fingers suddenly click in front of my face and time regains itself. All the voices become clear, as does my vision, and I am met with the impairing glare of Jeanine. "Try anything like that again, Miss Prior, and it will be much worse." I narrow my eyes at her and pull at my restraints, but they are too tight to let them even wriggle. Jeanine walks around behind the table so I can no longer see her and I feel my other senses kick into overdrive at the threat she causes. "Miss Prior I've brought you hear because of you mother," she says, and by the sound of things she is opening a metal draw. She doesn't continue to speak, it's as if she's waiting for my reply, so I play along.

"What about my mother? She's dead."

"Something your mother had, and I believe you inherited." Oh crap. Oh crap this can't be good. If Jeanine knows about my being Divergent I'm dead, this chair may as well be my death bed.

I decide to play it dumb. "I don't know what you're taking about."

Jeanine reappears in my vision, and she is holding a metal box, no bigger than the size of a book. "Oh Miss Prior, you and I both know what your hiding, let's not play dumb, shall we? It'll make this whole proses a lot easier." She opens the box and angles it so I can't see inside, it's infuriating. "This," she reaches into the box and pulls out a single syringe, half full of black, cloudy liquid that seems to swirl on its own accord, "is a new serum I have invented to handle people like you, it's pain inducing, and is designed to cloud your thoughts so you'll tell us anything we want to hear." She pauses, almost as if to make sure I'm keeping up. "This is not enough to kill you, only prolong the pain, but if given incorrectly it can be lethal."

"Sounds lovely," I spit, beginning to lose feeling in the tips of my fingers due to the restraints.

"Oh, it's quite the opposite of that," she coos, flicking the needle and walking over to me slowly. "Quite the opposite." And I have no time to register my fear as the needle plunges into my neck and the black liquid is injected into my bloodstream, leaving a burning trail in its wake pulling a bloodcurdling scream from my lips almost instantly, and my last clear thought before pain overtakes my brain is I hope Tobias can hear me.

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