Karol a/n: Thank you for the reviews, follows and favorites of the first chapter. Here is the Chapter 2, we hope you like it :)

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I hate her

I really, really hate her.

I don't remember a moment when I don't hated her. In my home, every time she appeared in the newspapers with her hateful comments about Abnegation, my father expressed his hatred. I guess I've always hated her.

But over the past few months, I've been hating her even more. It's like an unhealthy obsession. All the time I have been thinking about what I would do when she was in front of me, and when this occurred, nothing of what I thought was fulfilled.

It's not as if she would allow, anyway.

Still, I think my surrender was the right thing. I saved my friends and my parents. I am sure she will kill me, but at least my life will have been something.

Caleb's betrayal still hurts as if someone had thrown salt in my wounds, and nor was it pleasant to have to endure the idiot Peter. And what I hate almost as much as her, is this room so ridiculously small. It's driving me crazy. My thoughts echo on the walls and come back to me.

She will be watching me?

I'm smart enough to realize that she's watching me. She can be watching while I eat, while I sleep. Or while I shower. I can feel her icy eyes crossing the cameras and reaching me.

I can feel you looking at me, Jeanine. I know you're watching. I will not let you see me going crazy. I will not give you any key to control me. You will not control me. Never. I'd rather be dead than under your control.

Yet, the weak piece of me wants to know what would be the feeling of be controlled for you.

I hate myself for even thinking that.

And at that moment, the door opens revealing Peter.

Do you want to play again, Jeanine? As soon? Your cheek still hurts?

- Hey, stiff. Stop dreaming awake.

He pulls me and we walked down a long corridor, which was nothing new. My days were limited to rooms and corridors lately.

Peter was still holding my arm, which made me want to turn and strangle him.

But I wouldn't give Jeanine the pleasure to see me losing control.

I remember my hands scratching her face desperately and correct myself: I wouldn't give Jeanine the pleasure to see me losing control again.

We enter the room and I recognize it immediately. It's the room that Jeanine had shown me the day I surrendered me to her.

"Just so you know, you will be executed in this very room."

That meant I would be executed now.

My legs are trembling and my breath is stuck in the throat. Tears form in my eyes, but I don't let them fall.

I try to tell myself that it doesn't matter. I knew about my destiny when I decided to sacrifice me. I would die there. Through her hands.

Jeanine is across the room, preparing a purple liquid in a syringe. The fluorescent light reflects over her glasses, giving to her eyes an almost supernatural tone.

- Put her on the table. - she orders to Peter, mechanically.

Before Peter touch me, I send him a meaningful look, and he understands at once.

I walk over to the table and lay down.

I look at Jeanine one last time, and I think I see something in her eyes. Some feeling is there present, even though masked by the expressionless face. She stares the syringe obsessively, as if what she's about to do caused her pain.

No. I'm wrong. I'm just imagining things. Jeanine can't feel.

Slowly, still staring the syringe, Jeanine approaches me. My heart races, and I try to convince myself that it's only out of fear. Maybe anger. And nothing more than that.

I hear the sound of her heels while she approaches me. They sound in the vacuum of silence. When she approaches, I can see very clearly the marks I left slightly behind on her cheek, almost hidden by the blond hair.

Then, she removes a lock of my hair, to have better access to my neck, and that simple gesture has the effect of an anesthetic to my brain. I'm sure my eyes are clouded. Her hands are very cold, strangely soft. Inhuman hands.

It's good. At least, it brings me back a bit of reality.

- You know you're crazy, right? A crazy sick. - I hear myself whispering, but it don't seems my voice.

She don't looks at me when she replies:

- It's the crazy ones who have to do what is needed. Normal people are useless.

Then, she slips the needle in my neck.

I feel the world disappearing, becoming a cloud of colors. Blue, yellow, and gray. Silvery grey. A beautiful harmful silvery gray.

I hate you. Really. I hate you very much. I've always done, and I don't imagine myself feeling another thing. But strangely, although hating you, I love the color of your eyes.

And soon, I feel nothing more.

…

A pain on my neck reveals me that I'm alive.

The dead don't feel neck pain, I'm sure of it.

I'm so tired I can't open my eyes. I'm on a bed, because there is nothing as comfortable as a bed. I can feel the pillow under my head, and the blanket over me. Everything is comfortable and warm, and I'm too tired.

The first thing I think is that something went wrong and I'm back in my cell. But then I open my eyes.

And the sky is above me.

First, I think I'm crazy, but that isn't possible. The sky is above me. Blue, clear, with some clouds.

I look around me. I'm in a bedroom with blue walls, neatly tidy. Too tidy.

I find the explanation to the blue sky: the ceiling above the bed is glass. The other side of the bedroom has a normal ceiling, but the side that I'm has a beautiful view of the sky.

Trying to overcome my confusion, I remove the blanket slowly. I don't have my black clothes. Instead, I use a tank top, and a pair of shorts. The clothes is what most surprise me. Someone changed my clothes.

Someone undressed me and changed me. The very idea fills me with shame.

I get out of bed, still watching the strange but beautiful ceiling, and examine the bedroom. There is a desk and a large closet on the right. Also a mirror.

The door is on the left side.

Before reaching it, the door opens. And the last person I would have thought enters.

My enemy. Jeanine.