My sleep is unsteady, as I float in and out of sleep. Every time I wake back up, it leaves me feeling more tired than I was when I went to bed. During one of the short periods where I am actually asleep, my Father bangs on my door. I jump up with a muffled shout, sweat already beading on my forehead.
"Kathleen, get up and get ready. We need to head out early." The sun hasn't risen yet, so my room is rather dark. Rubbing a hand across my face, toss my legs over the side of my bed, my feet firmly on the floor and I sit there and take a few deep breaths, running my hand through my hair and yanking at some of the tangles that come with the tossing and turning of sleepless nights. I must have zoned out for a moment because suddenly Father is knocking on my door again.
"Kathleen! We have to go. Get ready. I'm not going to repeat myself."
Letting out a sigh I get up and wander over to my dresser, pulling out a simple grey dress and getting dressed. It's a simple process here. Everything is the same color, the same fit, and the same lack of life. Pictures of the Dauntless outfits cross my mind and already the envy burning in the back of my chest. They somehow manage to express exactly who they are even though they all share the same color scheme. The Erudite accessorize with various forms of jewelry or with different glasses. Even the Candor find their own variations of black and white to define who they are. But the Abnegation, we all wear the same loose grey clothes, becoming a singular entity without anything.
But being the daughter of Marcus Eaton, I know that "getting ready" isn't just putting on my Abnegation best. Of course not, because I have to be perfect. So I go and get the makeup and begin the long process of perfecting my features while trying to ensure people can't tell. That sort of vanity isn't allowed, though by the end of today, I guess it won't really matter. But until I am officially out of Abnegation, I am still at risk of a good show of "discipline", so I choose to ere on the side of caution, doing what I know my father expects.
I have moved on to brushing my hair when Father opens the door and walks in, not even bothering to knock. He walks up and takes the brush out of my hand, ignoring that I am in the middle of fixing my hair. I purse my lips for a moment but turn to sit straight without a word. He begins to fix my hair into a simple plait down the center of my head. His fingers move deftly and are gentle on my hair, such a juxtaposition from what I am used to. After a few minutes he is done and he turns and immediately heads to the doorway.
"Come. It's time for us to head out."
I watch him disappear and risk a moment to glance around the room. This is the last time I will see this room, that hid me away while I cried and kept me safe on my worst nights. And I can't tell if I am sad to leave my sole refuge, or I am happy to not need it any longer. As I head out of my room, I stop in the hall and look at the door next to my room, and ponder for a moment about its last occupant. How long that room has been there absolutely undisturbed aside from the night he left. Father went into the room and threw everything on the floor in a rage. Later I went in and put everything right back where it belonged, numb and robotic. It was in that moment that I realized just how quickly he was willing to leave me behind to save himself. How ready he and Mother both were.
Realizing just how much I have stalled, I rush down and to the door and slip on my shoes while trying to avoid Father's gaze. I can sense his impatience without having to see him. As we exit the house, I pause for him to make sure that the door is properly closed before letting him take the lead as we walk to the bus stop.
"Is the bus running this early?" Normally the bus doesn't begin until after the sun has risen. The times are different on Ceremony days, but I have never known them to run this early. At first Father says nothing, continuing to walk as if I said nothing. Eventually he gives me a glance.
"I called and had them add a few bus runs early. Punctuality is important. To be late is to be a burden."
With that, we return to the silence and I continue to glance around, absorbing as much as I can in a twisted sense of nostalgia.
I grew up here. So much of who I am was defined by this place and the people here. And I am about to give it up.
Staring at the back of Father's head, the anxiety and melancholy that had filled me as we walked disappears. I have never felt more sure of any decision. And in this moment I can somewhat understand why the coward fled to Dauntless. I can somewhat understand why he would leave me behind at this single chance at freedom.
When the bus arrives, we climb aboard offering a nod to the driver. I don't recognize the driver, but he is wearing the standard grey so I'm sure I must have seen him at least once at some point. Unsurprisingly the bus is empty and so Father and I sit in the back. I turn to watch the scenery blur by and enjoy the silence. But suddenly Father cuts through my calm, speaking quietly so that the driver probably can't hear.
"Tonight after the Ceremony we will figure out your living situation. You are more than welcome to stay in your room in the house. I think the Liddings are thinking about moving into a smaller house now that their children have moved out. I can talk to them about acquiring their home soon."
My entire face goes slack for a moment. I can't even say that I am surprised. I don't feel anything.
He doesn't even know. He doesn't see me leaving as a possibility. He is already making plans for me in Abnegation.
I don't respond and he seems to take that as a response on its own. The rest of the bus ride is silent, but I can't bring myself to look back outside. I am stuck staring at the front, overly aware of just how calm Father is next to me. He is so sure that he has everything planned out. Like always, he is overly confident that the world will just follow his pretty little plans. And the fact that I will single-handedly ruin that for him is liberating and yet also terrifying. The fact that he hasn't viewed this outcome as a possibility means that his response will be all the more violent.
Will he stop at trashing my room? Or will he try and hunt me down? Will anywhere be safe if I push him too far?
But I stop that train of thought. I won't be a victim in my own home any longer. I refuse to be a passive player in his game.
We reach the ceremony building and the bus pulls up to an entrance. The driver opens the doors and offers us polite nods which we return as we get off. We head in and Father immediately heads to the stairs, bypassing the elevator. I dutifully follow and climb, zoning out as we ascend. No one is here at this unbearably early hour. This year Father is in charge of the choosing ceremony and he must make it perfect. He has to show off his ability as a leader at every chance he gets, especially if Jeanine is going to be there. He goes and stands at the front and begins to practice his speech, repeating it to the point that it becomes a drone that I ignore. Instead I wander around the room, looking at the various sections that will house the factions in a short while. It is just as I wander back to the front that the first people begin to arrive and wander into the room.
Father stops his practice and wanders away, disappearing. I walk to the edge of the stage where all of us who are participating will wait for our turn. I stand in the vague area where I will be and clasp my hands behind my back, deciding to just daydream until the ceremony starts.
However, just as I begin to settle into my stance, I hear footsteps approach form behind and I turn slightly. Jeanine offers a smile as she approaches, looking clean and angular and absolutely powerful.
"Miss Eaton," she tips her head, "I'm sure you must be excited to finally choose your faction." I offer a tight smile, trying not to emote. As much as I respect Jeanine for what she does and quite frankly for who she is, I know better than to trust her with anything more than she can already readily find with the information Erudite stores.
"Of course. Getting to become an active part of society is a gift."
Jeanine lets out a chuckle that sounds hollow and her the corners of her mouth pull up impossibly further.
"I forget how well your father has you trained. But there is no need for that here. Why don't you tell me your actual thoughts?"
It takes a fair amount of effort to keep the shock off my face. I shouldn't be surprise that of all the people to have the courage to say something in public, it would be Jeanine. Dauntless may be the fearless, but that doesn't mean that others aren't just as brave. They have simply chosen to define themselves in something more.
"My actual thoughts," I make the quick decision to try and change the subject, "are that this entire ceremony is an unnecessary formality. More than half the people choose to remain in the faction of their birth. We are expected to contribute in said faction up until this ceremony regardless of whether we choose to stay their or not. This is nothing but a quick way for the factions to compare their ranks to each other and to flaunt their appeal to others."
Jeanine quirks a brow and her smiles lessens a touch.
"An apt analysis. But surely someone like you must know there is more to it than that. I mean, only one faction has enough power to really flaunt it."
Jeanine's disdain for the power that Abnegation has over the other factions is something that is universally known. And my Father, as a leader of Abnegation, has drawn the most of her ire. In some sense, it has provided us some strange unspoken sense of kinship. Not that I would ever admit that to someone aloud.
"But also don't think that you have distracted me from my previous statement. Where is that father of yours?"
Before I can respond, he appears behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I jump slightly and in a moment of distraction my fear shows clearly on my face. Jeanine notices immediately and her smile has returned, though this time is distinctly animalistic. But I take the slightest amount of comfort knowing that for once while I stare down the eyes of a hunter that I am not the prey.
"I am right here Jeanine."
"Marcus," She offers Father a nod, "A pleasure to see you. I'm sure that you have everything planned out to run smoothly today?"
"Of course."
The response is short and tight and the grip on my shoulder tightens. It begins to sting but I pretend to feel nothing. Jeanine is watching me closely, waiting for anything to use and while I would love to feed her more ammunition, I know better than to do that while Father has a hand on me.
The room is becoming steadily more crowded and suddenly my Father lets go of my shoulder. Jeanine also suddenly trains her expression back into a more guarded smile.
"Well, there are other people I wish to greet. It was good to see you both. And best of luck with your choice, Kathleen."
"Thank you."
She turns away and disappears among the sea of colors that have blended as people sort themselves into their appointed sections. The edge of the stage is nearly full as the ceremony approaches. Father leaves without a word, though he does spare a moment to look at me. I stare back, unsure what he is trying to do. He nods and then disappears and I am left confused. As the area becomes more crowded, we have to shift to allow people to join the line until suddenly Father steps out to the center of the stage and the room is dead silent. Tension fills the air as Father begins his speech. The ceremony has begun. I've survived.
I'm glad and honestly rather relieved to see the Divergent fandom is still active. It's been so long since anything surrounding this series has changed that I worried that people wouldn't be interested anymore. But you have proven a dedicated and wonderful group of people so thank you for choosing this story as being worth your time, I appreciate it!
As I said last chapter, Eric is coming soon I promise. I'm just wanting to prevent this story from going too fast. I want you all to really get to know Kathleen and start to get a good feel for how she thinks. Thanks again for reading, and for the follows, favorites, and reviews. They really do make my day, knowing that people enjoy this piece. And until next time, Stay Fierce!
~ChildOfLupus