Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent.

"How are you really?" Shauna asks me.

We're sitting in an outdoor dining area in the Pit. My food sits mostly untouched on my plate, but I'm trying to force it down so I don't seem malnourished. I hesitate to answer Shauna. I know she wants to hear that I'm struggling as much as she is. And I guess that would be true. I don't think the "advantage" I have is extraordinary. It's true that when I'm in a simulation, I know I won't really die, but how does that help when I'll feel just as much pain? Or when I'll still be staring down a person whose face is a PTSD trigger?

I can't discuss it with my girlfriend. That's the frustrating part. I can only open up to Amar, who can share in my experience, or to Tori, who once knew another Divergent. But Shauna, the person who most deserves to know, can't be trusted. It's a fact, but it's so screwed up.

Guilt eats at me as I look at Shauna, see her wrap her fingers around my bicep, lean in close so she's mere inches from me. "You look under the weather," she says, sounding worried.

"I'm not sick," I say, "just exhausted." I choose to tell her a half truth. "Today, they put me in the most intense sim."

"Was it too rough on you?" Shauna asks. I nod. "Most likely," I say vaguely.

"What did you see?" she pushes further. I'm quiet for a minute. Do I tell my girlfriend? Revealing to her what I actually saw would mean telling her about the stuff I learned. It would mean telling her about the untold parts of our history, and how I learned it from the factionless. It would also mean betraying Bernard, Ysabelle, "E," and all the others.

Shauna's a Dauntless-born, I tell myself. It isn't her fault, not her fault at all, but she was raised to follow Max and the other Dauntless leaders. They'd sooner spit on the factionless than join in their revolution. No, I'm not gonna tell her.

I just shrug. "I don't wanna talk about it," I say.

I feel guiltier when Shauna's expression changes to one of sympathy. But there's no turning back for us now. I just have to trust that God will work everything out. Shauna and I relax at the restaurant for a while, just savoring each other's company, and then we walk back through the Pit. On the way, we meet Zeke, and he calls out to us, "Yo! How's it been?"

"I'm hanging in there," I tell him.

He embraces me like a brother would, and I have to smile, knowing I still have lots of friends here.


Eric's heart is beating so fast, and his palms are getting so sweaty. He thinks he may go crazy trying to digest what he saw in the sim. He pushes the chilled surface of his water bottle into his forehead, trying to force his nerves to relax. It works about as well as fighting the gun did in the simulation. He eventually gives up and flings the bottle onto his bunk, cursing up a storm. Luckily, no one's in the dorm to see him like this.

He didn't know his last simulation would be so hard. What happened was, he was standing in front of a nameless teen girl, and he noticed that he had a gun in his hand. He was just about to put it down, then an invisible force began to act on his arm.

He tried fighting it. He strained against the pull on his arm. Jerked his hand to the side, only to have it whip right back into position. Finally, he remembered that no one had seen him with the girl yet. He closed his eyes, let the evil force have its way, and felt the gun go off.

Just seeing what was left of the girl's face was bad enough, but the worst torture was that feeling in his gut when he looked up and realized that Tobias had been watching him all along. Now he feels like the biggest coward to ever exist.

Though it sounds like it comes from far away, Eric hears Tobias say his name. He looks up.

"You all right?" Tobias is asking. There's genuine worry on his face.

Eric runs one of his hands down the length of his pants, drying the sweat there. Then he does the same with his other hand. Finally, he replies to Tobias. "Yeah, I'm alright," he says.

He just lied to his best friend's face, but he'd happily do it over and over again. The conversation they could've had is not one Eric ever wants to have.


"It's the last day of stage two," Amar announces. "You know what that means?" He smiles, and it freaks me out more than it puts me at ease. "This afternoon, you'll be staring down your worst fear."

Complete silence among the transfers. We stand timidly outside the simulation room. We're not stupid, we knew the boss fight was coming, but dang, this entire stage of initiation already felt like a boss fight. I worry that, by the time this is over, I'll be put in an institution and not considered for leadership.

The other transfers, my allies in this fight, must feel the same way. Jason raises his hand, then speaks before Amar can call on him. "Really?" he says indignantly. "Can we get a break after this?"

Amar's already shaking his head. "Not unless you pass initiation," he counters.

"Man," sighs Jason, "I regret picking this faction." He lets his head drop into his hands, and in that instant, he looks more defeated than when I beat him in combat. He doesn't even look at Sean to see if his friend agrees with him. That's the most un-Jason-like behavior I've seen from him.

A couple of weeks ago, I would've been glad to see that from him. Now? I'm terrified.


It turns out my last simulation wasn't hard to beat at all.

I went into the room, knowing that fluttering feeling in my stomach was normal. Amar got me connected, hit all the right buttons, then just sat aside and watched. All I let myself think was, I've got to conquer this sim fast while not letting the leaders know I'm Divergent.

It was good that the simulated situation was identical to the one from a few days ago. Same simple setting with the same sweet-faced teen girl in front of me. Same model of the same kind of handgun in my right hand, and a very familiar evil force about to act on my arm. But I was fully ready to counter it.

Instead of fighting and using brute force to solve my problem, I thought of King's words on nonviolence. I thought of what he said about Orpheus and the Sirens and the "sweeter music." I figured the same might apply to the evil force pushing on my arm. I forced my lips up into a smile, and then I shouted, using a playful tone, at the girl in front of me. "Hey, bet you can't dodge this one!"

I sent a desperate prayer up to God. I just wanted to fake it till I made it.

Mercifully, thanks to His goodness and grace, my strategy worked. The girl thought I was just fooling around, and she ducked out of the way of the gun, laughing. She did this just as the force got me to pull the trigger. Bang! The bullet passed harmlessly by, and the girl didn't get a scratch on her. When the dust settled at last, I realized I was laughing, too.

I've woken up now, and I'm looking across the simulation room at Amar.

He's checking my results on the screen. He must see them, because a wide smile forms on his face. "A job well done," he compliments. "Less than two minutes on the clock."

I sit still in the chair, processing his words. Instead of satisfaction and pride, fury stirs within me. I think of what I saw earlier from Jason, his body language that spelled defeat and his dead-eyed look of hopelessness. I think of the initiates chewing their own nails to the point where their fingers bleed. I think of the various sounds I have to hear from the dorms every night, the wails and howls and whimpers. And then I get the urge to snap.

"It wasn't that good," I reply, "when you take my cheating into account." I let the sarcasm drip from my words. Perhaps a week ago, I wouldn't have said anything. But my life's been turned around. God's given me greater understanding, and with it comes a call to change.

Amar doesn't catch on. "Hey, don't say that out loud," he scolds. "You never know who might be listening."

Okay, now I'm gonna snap for real. "I'm just amazed that you care this much about me," I say evenly, then I stand and head for the door. "Especially when you don't give a damn about the others," I finish, then I exit.

No one stares after me as I go. They don't even look up from their hands that they're fiddling with, or their knees that they're fixated on. The fear of what they'll soon see is consuming everything else, and it's got a hold on all these poor initiates.


It's Eric's turn. Before he even opens his eyes, he hears a series of earth-shaking roars. They seem to originate from several meters below his feet. With each roar comes a sudden gust of wind that cools his ankles. He swallows hard and opens his eyes, and the pleasant surprise he gets is that he's not at the edge of a cliff. Nor is he on the roof of a high tower.

No, he's on what looks like a pedestrian bridge. Twenty feet below, there's a busy highway that cuts through the land. Many heavy-duty cars and trucks blow past the bridge every second, rattling the structure that supports Eric's weight. But that can't be right. The floor beneath his feet isn't made out of wood, or metal, it's a sturdy concrete. So why…

Eric takes one small step, and the floor suddenly gives way beneath his feet, making him lose his balance.

Oh God! he thinks. His arms windmill and his feet desperately try to find purchase on the slab of concrete, which has tilted to one side, exposing a gap that's wide enough for him to fall through. He tries to get as far away from the hole as he can, but then the floor tilts the other way, opening up another big gap.

He begins to piece it together. The structure he's standing on is supported only by a thin beam, so if he ventures too far from the center, it'll tip and he'll fall twenty feet.

His brain goes into panic mode. He feels his heart pounding in his throat. What can a Dauntless possibly do in this situation? Well, he'd try his best to walk across this bridge.

Eric has to choke back a whimper. The atmosphere's so intense, the gusts of wind assailing his body, the concrete slab shaking with every tiny step he takes, the sound of a horn blaring loudly on the highway below, reminding him of the certain death he'll face if he stumbles. With a shudder, he creeps forward, going at a snail's pace. He can't move faster than that.

This little balancing act would be easy, he thinks, if not for the fear that strikes him every time he happens to look down. His knees keep buckling and his feet keep trying to go in two separate directions. At one point he almost slips, and panic hits him with so much force, he feels dizzy.

He must go faster. The longer he stays on this bridge, the higher the chance he'll end up squished by a car on the highway. He forces his feet to move at a slightly quicker pace.

He's almost reached the end when a familiar voice rings out, offering him an escape route. "Hey, Eric! Grab my hand!"

Tobias stands on the fixed platform at the end of the walkway. Gratitude rising within him, Eric breathes a sigh of relief and takes the lifesaving hand offered to him. "Thanks, Toby," he gasps. "I owe you one."

They laugh together for a second, then Eric realizes, too late, that the fixed platform's too small for the both of them.

He bumps Tobias without meaning to, and his friend tips over the side, right onto the dangerous walkway. All of a sudden he can't balance himself. "Whoa!" he chokes out. The bridge rocks wildly back and forth, and Eric sees panic light up in Tobias' eyes.

Now Tobias is the one stretching out a hand, desperation on his face and in every frantic move he makes. "Eric, please," he begs. "Help me!"

Eric just stands there, staring at his friend. Will he venture onto the platform to rescue Tobias, and risk his own life in the process? Eric's feet shuffle briefly, then they move back. His mind's been made up. And it won't look good for Tobias.

"Sorry," Eric manages to say, though he already feels a crushing guilt. "I'm sorry!"

These words register in Tobias' eyes for just a moment before the slab he's standing on tips. He screams and scratches at the concrete with his fingertips, but he can't be saved. He plummets.

Eric lets him fall. He lands in front of a massive truck. Just before he's run over, Eric shuts his eyes.


The door's closed, and I can neither hear nor see Eric's reaction to the sim. The silence is like a hammer pounding against my eardrums. I said I'd leave, but I'm still here, still within sight of the simulation room, just keeping my distance from Amar and the transfers. I chose to hang around for one reason, to see how my best friend does in his last sim.

I wonder what nightmare he's trying to ward off. I stick near the wall I stand next to, but lean my ear in the direction of the hallway. Now I can hear a little bit of what Eric's muttering. He's saying "sorry" over and over again. Who's he apologizing to?

My brow furrows. I keep on listening. He won't stop saying he's sorry.

Finally, something completely unexpected happens. I hear the door to the simulation room open with force. Two people storm out, one Eric, the other Amar. Amar's yelling at Eric to come back, but the latter ignores the former. Eric marches past me without even glancing my way. I take one look at him, and I know it'd be fruitless to try and stop him.

So I let him go. That's what Eric would do, if I were the one trying to run away, unable to handle the truth about the kind of person I am.


The chalkboard's still in Amar's hands, but that's of little importance to the initiates, transfer and Dauntless-born alike. They've all crammed themselves around the spot where their rankings are going to be shown. Amar takes his time counting and calculating, not feeling the pressure.

At last, he gets it all done. He puts the board up without saying anything to the kids.

Eric's eyes travel down the list. His name's in the sixth spot. Tobias, on the other hand, is first. Some of the others are talking, discussing where they are in the ranks, but Eric's not hearing them. Even if Tobias were next to him at this moment, Eric would be oblivious. He holds both hands against his ears, but still he's forced to hear his own heartbeat get louder and louder, drowning out all other sounds, reminding him of his catastrophic failure.


It's nighttime in the control room. Lora's covering for another one of the security guys. She's gotta admit, night shift isn't her favorite. It's boring as hell. She's been staring at the same screen for an hour straight, and nothing's happened. If she doesn't get air soon, she might lose her mind.

She pushes her chair aside and gets up to stretch. Then she realizes, her boss likely won't find out if she leaves the room for a few minutes. The man went out and got drunk out of his mind for the fourth time this week. He'll likely forget to check the room logs in the morning.

Lora's outside of the cramped room and in the hallway before her rational side stops her. She scans the immediate vicinity, searching for anyone who might tell on her, a janitor, another member of the security team. But there's no one.

Wait! There's an initiate. A young one, maybe looking to calm his restlessness and get out of bed. He sits in an empty chair, his elbows on his knees, his face mostly hidden. Lora creeps toward him. She recognizes the former Erudite, Eric.

"Kid," Lora says to him, "what happened to you?"

Eric looks despondent. "I just… can't stand it anymore. I miss my mom." He sighs and stares at Lora with pleading eyes. "Could you maybe talk to someone? So they'll let me out of here."

Lora watches him passively, stunned by the change in this Erudite transfer.

"I need to go visit my mom," Eric pleads again, and this makes Lora act immediately. She doesn't need to talk to anyone. She can take care of the cameras herself. This poor kid's gonna be let out of the Dauntless compound, if it means breaking a law or two.


Eric hides his grin behind a hand as he walks down the moolit road directly outside of the Dauntless compound. A snicker escapes him, and he thinks over what he just did. Faking it to manipulate the ones in charge isn't a tactic only two-year-olds can use. The Dauntless can be tricked as well.

Now Eric's free to sneak off to Erudite headquarters if he wants. And that's just where he's heading.

He'll go to Jeanine's office, using that access card she gifted him. Jeanine works late often, she'll probably still be at her desk. She gives better advice than any therapist ever could. She might be able to articulate to Eric what he's doing wrong. And if she can't, she'll help to cheer him up anyway.

The pillars of light in Erudite territory begin to show up in the distance, and Eric can't resist smiling.


Jeanine's door won't open without the passcode. But that's only a small hurdle for Eric. What were the digits again? Eric can remember Jeanine telling him. He punches the number in and waits. An instant later, a light above the knob flashes green. Eric pushes the door open.

At first, Jeanine takes no notice of him. She keeps her cordless phone held to one ear and talks. "And when I get the chance, I'll tell Max…"

Eric pushes the door in further, and it squeaks. That gets her attention.

She turns and almost drops the phone in her surprise. "Oh, Eric!" A welcoming smile deepens the lines around her eyes. "Go ahead, make yourself at home," she says, pointing to the first empty chair she sees. Then she goes back to addressing the person on the phone. "I'll speak with you later," she says.

She hangs up the phone, and Eric sits down. He feels relieved. Now he's in a place where he can pour his heart out, and be safe while doing it. Jeanine takes the time to prepare a cup of hot coffee for him. She's done in less than five minutes. "Just how you like it," she says, "with a bit of honey." She dips the stirrer in the coffee and spins it around a few times, then she surrenders the cup to her former student. Eric takes it and sips longingly.

Jeanine goes on talking, but Eric doesn't mind. "So sorry about the clutter," she says, looking both embarrassed and annoyed. "It's just been an overwhelming day. That wretched assistant of mine decided to play a practical joke. Put superglue in one of my hats." She sighs. "Makes me wish I didn't need hired help."

Eric puts on a supportive face. "I wish I didn't need friends," he mutters.

Jeanine smiles wanly. "Going through a rough patch with Tobias?"

"You could say that," Eric says. He just shrugs in response to Jeanine's quizzical look, telling her without words that he doesn't want to share. In reality, he'd feel too humiliated if he gave away the details.

Jeanine responds with patience and understanding. She doesn't even try to pry further. "This'll lift your spirits," she suggests. "How would you like to be part of a revolution?"

Eric stares, mute. He did not expect that. After a couple seconds, he remembers how to speak. "You mean," he gets out, "one that's starting right now?" It's a stupid question, but how can he reply to this insane offer?

"In the near future, yes," Jeanine clarifies.

"So why's it happening?" Eric asks. He takes another sip of his coffee, and while he stares at the bottom of his cup, he's thinking. He needs to know how this revolution was born, why the people aren't satisfied, if they're for violent resistance or against, and more. Yeah, he's getting off track, when originally he just wanted to vent. But he chose a faction that values action over complacency. This revolution's calling to him, and he wants to answer.

"Well," Jeanine answers, looking thoughtful, "the current government hasn't worked for us for a while. It's a classic example of one-party tyranny. For such a selfless faction, Abnegation is tight-fisted with their power. They have the sole decision-making capacity in the city government."

Yes, very true, Eric thinks.

"The other factions all have some level of autonomy," says Jeanine, "but not enough." She motions to the rows of newspaper clippings covering the surface of her desk. Eric studies them, recognizing various headlines from the Erudite Sun-Times. There's the story about the council voting to kick the Dauntless out of parts of the factionless sector, against Max's wishes. And there's the story about Andrew Prior shutting down a Candor magazine that exposed Marcus Eaton's wife's affair.

"Now," Jeanine continues, straightening in her chair, "even the little they have could be snatched away. Doesn't that sound like a nightmare?"

"It does," Eric says absentmindedly, as he stares at the pictures of Marcus Eaton and Andrew Prior. He never did feel any particular fondness toward these two, but now he can say he hates them.

"Now," says Jeanine, "imagine the entirety of Dauntless under Abnegation influence. Imagine their ideal of extreme collectivism eroding the healthy competition in Dauntless. Much in the same way, they're a threat to our ideal of meritocracy. How is that good for our society? We created the factions to give people freedom of choice."

"I get it," says Eric. "You want to protect our right to choose."

"Perfectly stated," replies Jeanine. She taps one fingernail on the surface of her desk. "Unfortunately, there's a whole network of people who oppose us. They are known as the Divergent. Somehow they're all immune to the effects of our serums."

Immune? But that's… Tobias!

Eric pauses while drinking his coffee. A lightbulb's turned on in his head. His former best friend is Divergent. His sympathies lie with his ex-faction, Abnegation, probably more than with his current faction. He advocated for the factionless savage, not because he thought it'd be brave, but because he doesn't want to let go of his Abnegation tendencies. When he's a full member of his chosen faction, he'll probably promote other such acts, and Dauntless will be weakened. That's why this problem must be dealt with.

Eric's aware of his hands tightening over the armrests of his chair. Jeanine's still talking though, so he listens, wanting to learn more about the Divergent. "Many," Jeanine informs him, "are also eligible to join more than one faction."

"The aptitude test doesn't rule that out?" asks Eric.

"Not for them, no," Jeanine tells him. "The disturbing part? There are people like Melvin Emerson, a Divergent from Candor." She points to one of the newspaper clippings, which shows the face of an eccentric-looking, mustachioed man. Quite unlike any Candor Eric's ever seen. "He swore to live an honest life," says Jeanine, "yet he was resistant to truth serum. He managed to hide that he was equally qualified for Amity."

Like Tobias hiding his obvious advantage in the simulation stage, thinks Eric.

"Later in his career," Jeanine continues, "he was found to have a bias toward his Amity clients. We speculate that he played a part in freeing hundreds of guilty individuals. You see, that was before we fully understood what it meant to be Divergent."

Eric lets these words sink in. He takes a long sip from his cup of coffee before he speaks. "It sounds dangerous," he tells Jeanine, and his former teacher nods enthusiastically. "It is," she says. "Especially when you ask, where were most Divergent individuals born? The answer is, of course, Abnegation."

Eric's hands squeeze the armrests of his chair, the tips of his fingers throbbing.

"So how will you stop them?" he asks Jeanine.

His former teacher smiles serenely. "Oh," she says, "I won't be doing everything. I'll have to rely on people like you." And she points at Eric's chest, her smile never wavering.

"Me?" Eric gasps. Secretly, he feels honored to be given this distinction.

Jeanine nods. "Of course. You can do much for our cause by exposing the Divergent who are in hiding. In fact, that's the most effective thing you can do right now. Keep your eyes peeled and your senses alert. If you meet someone you suspect is Divergent, report them at once."

"Yes, ma'am," says Eric.


The hallway outside the transfer dorm is dark. But there's just enough light that Eric can see who's standing in the room. He figured he'd be in for a shock when he came back, but not like this.

That sound he hears is Shauna shouting. At Tobias, and loudly. Angrily. "And I'm telling you, it can't go on like this. Either you choose me, or lump yourself in with those traitors."

Eric stops and watches her for a while. He doesn't know if he can recognize the cute, high-energy Dauntless-born who'd always greet everyone with a big smile. This girl here, she isn't her. This girl's lips are tightly pursed, her arms a folded barricade over her heart, not letting Tobias in. But, Eric thinks, keeping him out won't be the worst of it. Soon, she'll blow up at him.

Tobias seems to sense this, too, because he's backing away and his hands are up by his head. "I left my entire family behind for this," he sputters out, "and you call me a traitor?"

Shauna's glaring contemptuously at him. "Not you," she snaps. "Your friend. Eric's Divergent, isn't he?"

Eric freezes. But Shauna hasn't seen him yet. "Looks like a Dauntless, talks like a Dauntless, but deep down, still an Erudite," she accuses. Eric listens, incapable of running to a place where he can't hear. His muscles clench up within him and his blood turns cold in his veins.

Because Shauna is right, though she's also wrong. Eric's not one of the Divergent. He loathes that fringe group, but Shauna's description of him is accurate. He looks like a Dauntless. Wears Dauntless clothing. Observes Dauntless customs and uses Dauntless slang. While colluding with the leader of Erudite behind everyone's backs.

Lucky for Eric, his former friend won't sink so low as to scapegoat him. "You're talking crazy," Tobias says to his girlfriend.

"I'm not," Shauna argues back. "Mom told me about those people. 'Cause of her, I know not to touch them with a ten-foot pole."

"Well, you do you," Tobias says with resignation, "but I won't write off my own best friend."

He looks firm in his decision. This makes Eric feel guilty. No matter his feelings on the Divergent and the fact that Tobias is one of them, it always seems wrong to turn on someone who calls you his friend.

Shauna doesn't care about that. She can't see reason, only her aversion to the Divergent and their allies. "Then I'm leaving," she declares loudly. She levels one last glare at Tobias. "Bye." It's not till she's marched halfway across the dorm that Tobias starts calling after her.

"Wait. Shauna…" He actually looks distraught.

But his girlfriend, now just another ex, never looks back.


Everything's been ruined, and the worst part is, the fault's all mine. To think things first started going wrong when my girlfriend came to see me. It was early morning, and at any other time, I would've been happy to see her. But not then. At that moment, I'd been reading.

I want to curse myself when I think about how careless I was. I didn't consider keeping the book hidden under my blanket, or even turning so I wouldn't be facing the door. Shauna saw what I was doing and pestered me till I let her see the title of the book. Then she asked me if it was fiction. This incensed me, and I was seconds from telling her the truth. But just then, I remembered something I'd read.

I remembered something the writer, Frederick Douglass, wrote about one particular white man, about how he had so many enslaved people working for him, some of them wouldn't even know him when they saw him. About how one day, he ran into one of those enslaved people on the road and asked him whether he was treated well. The man of course replied, "No, sir." And for simply telling the truth, that man was handcuffed, sold, and separated from everyone he loved.

I believe God was telling me to keep myself safe. That was how I knew I couldn't tell Shauna the truth.

So I told her yes, the book I'm holding is a fictional work. And I thank God I did. I never could've guessed how she'd react to seeing, in my pile of reading material, the book by Martin Luther King, Jr. She had a meltdown right then, at six in the morning.

With literal tears brimming in her eyes, she begged me to ignore the "Divergent propaganda" and put the book "in the trash can, where it belongs." I said no. I said it was "too interesting," that I'd mistaken it for another fictional work, written by an author with a big imagination. My lies saved me. Yet they put Eric on the chopping block. Shauna assumed the book was his, and said she'd report him to Dauntless police.

I thought I'd have a heart attack. I scrambled to think of a way to clear Eric's name. Sadly, I had nothing. It was by God's grace that Shauna decided to give this up, after saying she didn't yet have evidence.

Now another realization hits me. Eric's been cold to me ever since I passed him in the ranks. Is it disappointment? If I were the one on the Dauntless cops' watchlist, would he do this much to protect me? I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. But is it finally time for me to leave him behind? Only God knows.


Eric stands in the doorway, staring into the transfer dorm, his body frozen. He's torn. He doesn't know which would be worse, letting Tobias go, or letting this opportune moment be wasted. He just has to send a report to Jeanine, and one of the Divergent will be taken care of. Problem is, he'll falter doing it.

It's bad. He needs to report Tobias now. Any other time, and Jeanine will ask why he didn't do so before. She'll ask if he isn't firm enough in his beliefs to work for the revolution. He needs to put his foot down and remove Tobias from his life. But all bets are off when Tobias sees him.

"Where've you been?" his former friend asks. "I searched all over for you." Eric's hoping he doesn't get any closer, but he does. Suddenly infuriated, Eric turns and doesn't make eye contact.

"I'm back now, aren't I?" he barks, indifferent to how rude he sounds.

He walks speedily away. Then another unwelcome surprise comes around the corner. Mia, the girlfriend Eric's still with. Just her voice, actually. "Dang," Eric can hear her say. "What's with that attitude?" A few seconds pass before Mia herself makes an appearance. Eric simply walks past her. As he does, he shoots her a glare.

"Never had an attitude," he replies. "That's just me."

He keeps retreating, but Tobias won't stay away. He chases after Eric, more like a pursuing cop trying to make an arrest, than a concerned brother. "Stop this foolishness," he lectures. "You ain't in a good place."

"Oh, and you are?" Eric scoffs.

Tobias doesn't answer right away, so Eric simply turns back around and takes off down the ill-lit corridor. He barely hears it when Tobias goes to Mia and implores, "Talk some sense into him. Please."


Eric walks until the loudest noise he can hear isn't coming from himself, but from a roiling, churning ocean. The waters of the chasm, to be specific. But when he walks within view of the ledge, he's unable to see the bottom of the chasm at all.

He can see the abnormally smooth, impossibly streamlined curve making up the wall above the chasm, over which a wide plane of moving water flows. After the initial bend in the curve, both the wall and the water dip and descend into nothingness. Nothing that can be seen with the human eye, that is. Just pitch darkness, without a definite size or a particular form. A lack of anything that seems to go on forever and ever.

It triggers Eric's fight-or-flight instincts. He chooses the latter, and walks quickly back in the direction from which he came. But then he hears his girlfriend's voice. "Hey, come back!" she's shouting. "I'm speaking to you!"

"Now's not the time," he shouts back, before stomping away.

"Then when?" Mia keeps badgering him. She aggressively pursues him, the bottoms of her shoes making more noise on the stone floor than his. "You've been acting weird lately."

"Your problem, not mine," Eric spurns her.

He looks back once and instantly regrets it. His girlfriend stands directly behind him, her expression like that of a shrewish housewife. "Do you hear yourself?" she's yelling. She gestures with a hand to Tobias, who's behind her. "Your friend just defended you, and you just brushed him off."

Eric spits this next word at her. "Bullshit."

He backs up, but then Mia pushes forward, so she's never more than a couple paces from him. "No, I get it," she says, and her voice is as hard as the ground below them. "You don't even like your friend, do you?" She gets so close to him, he can almost see the bumps on her skin. "You liked having him around, so you'd always look good in comparison. But really, you see him as just a…"

She never finishes. Eric raises a fist and quickly snaps it toward his girlfriend's face. Before the gravity of what he's done can sink in, blood's bursting from the bottom of Mia's mouth. "Shit," is the only syllable that makes it past Eric's lips, after he sees what he just did.

And then Mia's punching him in the head.

Eric staggers back. Warm, syrupy blood's spouting from a site on his forehead, close to his temple. It fills his right eye with a misty redness, so he can't see out of it. He lifts a hand to clean some of the blood off, but then Mia hits him hard in his rib cage, forcing him back even further. His back smacks into the metal railing, and he realizes he's closer to the chasm than he thought.

He gets an idea. A sick, warped, messed-up one. When Mia grabs the sides of his head with both her hands, he traps her wrists in between his fingers, then he twists his torso around so she body-slams the railing and backflips right over it. Smack! The impact of her shoulders and back on the solid surface below knocks the wind out of her. She lies flat for a good five seconds, her left leg bent under her body, her arms spread out on either side of her, like a child miming a butterfly. Then something happens that makes Eric want to look away.

Mia's body starts sliding. In seconds, she'll have no more purchase on the curved surface, and it'll empty her into the dark ocean below. Eric hopes she doesn't know what's coming, but she does. "Eric, help me!" she gasps, and it's all she can get out before she falls.

She screams once, then the blackness eats her whole. Eric squeezes his eyes shut.

Should've plugged his ears too, he thinks, because an instant after Mia's fall, he hears a sound like an egg breaking apart on the rim of a bowl. Then he can see again, and he looks into the chasm for a long time, until he's able to locate all that's left of his girlfriend. His mouth's suddenly open, but he can't remember actually opening it. Weird. Was he in the midst of saying something to Mia? Can he still say it to her, when she's now deaf, blind, and unable to respond?

The words make their way out after five, ten, or fifteen seconds, Eric isn't sure. "I didn't mean it," he squeaks. He struggles to clear his throat, then makes another attempt. "I didn't mean it!" he manages, before he finally turns away from the chasm. When again his vision focuses, the first person he sees is Tobias.

He tries to use his mouth, but can't. Yet all he wants to do is scream.


Eric closes his eyes, then opens them again. Now he's in the upper part of the Dauntless compound, the portion at street level. His face just got slapped by the ruthless midday sun, and it stung. But not like the hurt inflicted on his ears, when he first heard that horrific screaming.

Turns out it's coming from a woman in her late fifties. She has golden-brown skin and a curly mop of black hair. And she looks very much like Eric's deceased girlfriend. Mia's grandmother. That's who is screaming.

"Why?" she wails, hitting the floor with her palms till her skin starts to crack. "Why, God, why?" She sees Tobias standing nearby, looking mutely at the wall, and she ambles over to him, almost bowling him over. Her thick hands hold tight to his shoulders. "Tell me," she begs, in a weak, rasping voice. "Who was it? Did her boyfriend kill her out of spite?"

Eric takes the deepest breath he ever took in his life.

It's released a moment later, when Tobias shakes his head fiercely at the woman. "He didn't do it," he says firmly. The woman seemingly shrinks in her disappointment, then she's taken out of the compound. Eric doesn't see her again.

Hopefully that's the last reminder Eric will ever receive, of the girl he thought loved him.


"You owe me one," I hiss next to Eric's ear. We're standing uncomfortably close to the chasm, near the spot where Mia died. Her funeral procession just left, so Eric and I are the only ones there.

I already have regrets about standing up for him, taking the blame off of him, and excusing the atrocious crime he committed. I can't figure out why I did those things. I thought I'd already sworn up and down that I'd leave him behind, find solace in Zeke and Shauna instead. But Shauna's gone now, and Zeke has obligations to his mom and little brother.

Maybe that's the real reason I spared my former friend, because he always stuck around before, when no one else would. I'm in too deep to give up on the only constant presence in my life.

Well, giving up's about to get easier, because after I tell Eric he owes me, he just looks at me, totally indifferent, and says, "No, I don't."

I walk away from the chasm alone. God knows I don't need him. I just didn't know that myself, till now.

AN: Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or Community? is the property of Beacon Press and Martin Luther King, Jr. I do not own any content in this chapter that references this work.