Ch 1
Crumpling the newspaper in his firm knuckles, Marcus looks up with a sudden force and growls, "You know what to do," He's referring, of course, to the upcoming aptitude test, the one which will decide whether or not I remain in the faction of Abnegation, one of selflessness and secrets, or abandon him, alone, widowed, childless, utterly depressed. To be honest, just the thought of him having to experience such a tragedy as that makes my heart soar. A faction leader, the head of our government, conceived and raised two transfers. Erudite would have a field day.
"I asked you a question," The tips of his words are enunciated with impatience. I want to say that it was actually more of a statement, but I know where that will land me so instead, I stare at the ground and mutter,
"Yes, sir."
Marcus seems satisfied, and he grins and pats me on the shoulder, acting like a normal father would, almost fooling me into the farce that he cares until the extra squeeze lands, assuring me of what is to come. I flinch, wrench myself out of his steel grip, and sprint for my escape. Though I can't stave off the results of Erudite's report forever, I don't have to take the bruises with me to school.
Once I'm out of the house, I slow my pace to that of a stroll. He won't follow me out here. It would be a scandal, Marcus Eaton, chasing his little girl down a street. It would reflect horribly on him, and he couldn't have that. No, Marcus prefers to perform his dirty acts in the privacy of his home. We put on a face for the public, a mask that subsequently flips the moment I enter our humble abode. School is about a mile's walk from my home; we live right in the middle of a cluster of unassuming, metal houses. Making it there without encountering trouble is a different story. Marcus doesn't permit me to ride the bus, so I endure the conditions of other people. Our society is under the impression that Abnegation's altruism is a sham, and underneath all the apple pies and handshakes we are a corrupt people unfit to be leaders. This is mostly due to Erudite's recent reports detailing the malfeasance of Abnegation's leaders, though their faction has always had a conflict with us. But with the current rumors floating around, my uniform has made me a victim, someone people seek out in a crowd simply to give a shove. I ignore it, after all Marcus would be ruined if his daughter were to get into fights. So, when the crowd of rowdy Dauntless boys come barreling down the street, I let myself be elbowed to the side, splashing into the nearby pothole filled with lukewarm water from a recent storm. My slacks become soaked through with mud, and I can feel my calves getting shaky as they always do when I get wet. I have an irrational fear of water.
Looking back, I discover the reason for any Dauntless to be in the Abnegation neighborhood. All the houses on our block have been spray painted with obscene phrases and spotted with egg yolks, shells littering the ground around them. I can picture the neighborhood cleanup sure to occur tonight, each individual skipping their nightly activities to help undo this travesty. No complaints will be aired, but Marcus will still come up with some reason to punish me.
I keep my head down as I finish my travels, occasionally peeking up to ensure no surprises. Entering the building is always a nightmare, the loud chatter coming from each separate group. My strategy is to head straight to class, taking shelter in the textbooks. But today someone interferes, someone by the name of Caleb Prior. He grabs my arm, though in a much gentler fashion than that of my father, almost as though he is caressing me.
"What are you doing?" I whisper secretively, as if we could be heard over all this noise.
"We have the aptitude test today-," he begins, but I stop him mid-sentence.
"Caleb, I have to get to class,"
"I know, just listen for a second. Okay?" I nod. "You don't have to do what he tells you. You know that." His gray eyes pierce mine with such a caring intensity I feel the urge to seep closer, the two of us becoming one. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. But it could never happen, and I turn around, speed walking to my destination and disregarding the hairs on my neck signaling that he's waiting, that I should turn around. There's a plan for my future, and it's not decided by me. I already know where Caleb's going, and I know I can't join him.
I tread up the metal staircase, perforated with holes and lined by railings worn with the marks of generations' hands. History of Factions is on the thirteenth floor. I've seen the Dauntless jump down multiple flights, though I could never do something of that nature myself. We have a half day in order to accommodate the aptitude tests, though I do not appreciate the nuance of being educated on the factions minutes before I discover which one I belong in permanently. It's not as though my results will affect my decision. My father has decided for me.
On my way up I hear a chaotic chorus of shouts. Before I have the chance to step aside, I feel a shove as a boy my age rushes forward, clad in black with multiple ear piercings. Bracing myself for the storm to come, I clutch the textbooks cradled in the crook of my arm, only to lose my grip immediately. Five heavyweight objects landing on your toes at once is not an enjoyable experience. Usually, I wouldn't have so many, but Abnegations drop all their school possessions in a chute at the end of their education to be recycled and minimize waste. I hear faint chuckles and do my best to ignore them, humiliated by my fumbling. Most of them rush past me, almost knocking me twelve flights down the stairs. As I reach for my last book, I feel a slight tap on my shoulder, so startling that my books spill yet again. I whirl around and am met with sincere blue eyes.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" she professes.
"It's-," I clear my throat, "It's okay."
"Here, let me help you." I find it strange that a Dauntless could be so sympathetic with an Abnegation, especially with all the recent tension.
"Um, that's okay." I say, recalling the rules of my faction.
"My name's Clarisse."
"Okay-,"
"You sure do say "okay" a lot, don't you?"
"Well, I guess so. My names-," and a shout reverberates throughout the stairwell, calling for the pale girl with blond eyelashes standing in front of my stunned face. Without another word, she trots to class. I stand still for a moment, sorting out what just happened, and with the second bell I snap back into it. Collecting all my textbooks and tripping up the stairs I greet my classmates with a reddened face and torn slacks. As I head to my desk, I pick up my teacher's dissatisfied mumbles, and with that I am silenced for the rest of the day.
The hours flash by, and soon enough I am seated serenely at a cafeteria table with my fellow Abnegations, listening politely to the chatter surrounding us. I am across from Caleb and his sister Beatrice, our neighbor Robert directly to my right. My heart rests in my throat, and I'm convinced everyone in my vicinity can hear it's beat. Apparently, Caleb can, or perhaps it is the palor of my face that exposes my anxiety, for I feel his foot gently settled on mine, a sign that we have developed over the years. So much of our communication is encoded that I doubt anyone is privy to our relationship. This is in part due to Marcus, and in part due to a longing for privacy so rarely experienced in our lives. As political leaders, Abnegation is in the spotlight, every move the adults make monitored by reporters from Erudite. Caleb is my only source of solace, and I hide often in the folds of our minimal secret. I do this now, until the call of my name beckons me to a test room.
"Elizabeth Eaton," they call, though I am unclear as to who "they" is.
Caleb gives me an undistinguished nod, and I step forward.
An Erudite tester resides in my testing room, though most of the others are comprised of Abnegation volunteers. He has a rough complexion with dark curly hair, springing elegantly from his head. I suppose he would've been a nice guy if not for the fact that he is Erudite. Without any acknowledgement, Curly Hair directs me towards a reclining chair, the type you find in dentist offices with the fluorescent lights flickering above. Fearfully I sit down. He hands me a cup full of clear liquid that for some reason reminds me of vile medicine, though it has no taste or smell. I tenderly sip it, sensing his impatience but prioritizing my own caution. He refuses to speak to me, as if expressing his disdain for this position. Leaning back, I drift to what I assume is sleep only to find myself awake in the same room, this time alone.
I observe my surroundings, the stark white lights having remained the same though much else has changed. For one, the room is void of all its previous objects. Instead, I am greeted by two pedestals, one holding a block of cheddar cheese, the type cartoon mice chase, and the other a knife. It is most likely my own imagination, but I swear I can see blood taint on the edges. I know what I'm supposed to pick, and all that comes as a surprise in this scenario is the vivid detail. Pick the cheese. The problem is that I'm not sure what I want. Caleb's words come back to me. Do I have to do what he said? Do I have to live my life, base my decisions, after this man who has caused me so much pain? On the other hand, the knife repels me, and perhaps I would have chosen the cheese naturally anyways..
"Choose." I hear a disembodied voice echo throughout the room and is it just me, or does it sound like my father? I pause, apprehensive one again. Time is running out, I know, but I don't know what to do. Edging again away from the weapon my hands reach out to grasp the block of dairy only to falter. Why is this so difficult? Yet again I stand weighing the merits of obedience when both options disappear before my eyes. All of a sudden the room is engulfed in black, terrifying darkness, and I run towards the speck of light in the distance, eager to escape this virtual hell. Upon reaching the beacon of hope, I discover a meadow. Soft grass bristles past my bare feet, and wind sways from left to right, tugging my hair with it.
Chirp. Chirp. I look down to notice a small songbird a few feet away. Its wing is askew, quite clearly broken, and the bird appears to be in pain. Bending down so as to fix it, I attempt to recall any knowledge of treating animals. My mind has been wiped. All I can do is scoop it up and, cradled in my arms, the chirping stops. Feather's rustle with each heaving breath, and I feel at peace.
The tranquility does not last long, however. A startling shout awakes me from my reverie, and I observe a vicious beast running at full speeds towards me- no, towards the bird. The chirping resumes, and fear grips my body, paralyzing me. A predator's beady eyes are trained on the bird's fragile body, and it occurs to me that if I drop it and run, I will be safe from harm. But how could I leave such a helpless creature to fight this battle? The beast increases by second, and at the last possible moment I turn my back, shielding the bird from the assailant. I feel teeth on my back, and all of a sudden I am in a library. This is an environment that I truly am comfortable in, and I fear that such a relief will not last long. After a few minutes of complete nothingness, I begin to peruse the books, heading straight for the informational section. The shelves aren't labeled, but by examining the bindings I can tell which is which. That's when I notice the sign up front. It reads in bold letters projecting importance: Abnegations are not to check out BOOKS. I suppose it makes sense. Libraries usually exist in the Erudite section of the city, and with the strain between our factions I understand. Well, I don't understand, but I can comprehend the reasons. I sigh and start to walk away when a small spine catches my eye. It is significantly smaller than the rest in its row, only coming up to about half the height of its companions. Perhaps its length is the only distinguishing aspect, but this book attracts me as though it were decorated with sparkles. I am aware that Abnegations are not supposed to take these books, but I would prefer not to call myself one anyways. And there's not any cameras, I can just sense it, so no one would have to know. I take a faltering step back, in a flash stuffing the book into my baggy robes. I suppose this is where they provide an advantage. All of a sudden I hear a voice, a low, grumbling one. It sounds all too familiar, and fear floods my body, cringing in preparation for the blows to come.
With a jolt I sit up, finding myself back in the dentist chair with the contempt Erudite.
"Get up. You're done," he states matter-of-factly.
"But-,"
"I said go."
"What are my results?" This question I ask with a tremor, as I'm sure many have before me.
"Abnegation. Now go." He opens the door, following me out, an act which surprises me as this is not commonly done. I don't give it a second thought, however; I'm too busy pondering my results. So, am I doomed to this prison? I'd have my own house. He couldn't hurt me. Yet somehow I know I'll end up exactly like my mother. I'll be solidifying the loss of the only family I have left. My brother. I was honest, unlike what Marcus had hoped for, yet I still ended up with his preferred result. Why? Technically I have the choice of whichever faction I believe suits me best, but unless I want to end up factionless most would suggest sticking with the results of your aptitude test. More than anything I am disappointed in myself. This makes me the person I've spent my whole life trying to get away from. I sit down just in time for Caleb to be called, along with Beatrice. I see them exchange good luck glances but I am too preoccupied to offer one of my own.
I continue to wallow in my own thoughts, until the day has ended and we begin our return trips home. Most of the students rush out, but all the Abnegation stay behind to hold open the doors. Caleb takes the bus, but I always stave off getting home for as long as possible through walking, stopping to tie my shoes, to save a worm, to talk to a factionless. My relationship with the outcasts of our society is a major part of what makes me a target, even though I would never want to be one of them. My unassuming sneakers skid on the wet, steaming sidewalk. I wonder for a moment why Beatrice didn't return from her room. Something must've gone wrong with hers. Lucky. Mine went exactly as planned.
It's times like these that I wish I weren't so completely, utterly alone.
Ch 2
Under normal circumstances I would try sneaking in, but I see Marcus through the tiny window adjacent to the front door, watching for me. Staying out of his line of sight, I consider my options. I could walk in and get it over with. I could stay outside for the next few hours, morbidly contemplating the results of my aptitude test. Or I could politely enter the Prior's home, and spend the evening with them. If they let me, and I think they will. Only Caleb will know why, but I can say my father's at a meeting, or something like that. They're Abnegation, and would never even dream of saying no to a politely made request. Although I don't want to intrude on what might be their last dinner as a family. I know they'll never see Caleb again, and from what he tells me they won't see Beatrice either.
I'm standing on the sidewalk observing my decisions, when I lock eyes with Marcus. His are occupied with fury, while I'm sure mine must be full of cowardice. All of a sudden, I detect a light tap on my shoulder. I jump, and whirl around, breaking contact with my dear father.
"Would you like to come visit Elizabeth?" he asks me, perfectly cheery and perfectly fake.
"Um, yes…" I hesitate with my words, caught by surprise.
"Well let's go then," This is the oddest I have ever seen Caleb act, though that's not really saying much considering he is the most normal person you'll ever meet. He starts walking forward and I follow, looking back once only to see that Marcus has disappeared, the only trace of his presence a window fogged up with breath.
Treading up the steps to his humble abode, I realize why Caleb stepped in. He basically saved me from my own flesh and blood.
"Get inside," he whispers urgently. I nod. His house is essentially the same as mine, few personal touches, miniscule but not cramped, in other words, bare. We duck up the stairs, racing past Beatrice, who is presently chopping carrots with a blunt knife in the kitchen that can't even fit two. Our homes have the same layout, a narrow hallway leading to an even narrower set of stairs, which branch off at two bedrooms, a coat closet situated in between. Caleb stuffs me into his room, not even giving me time to say thank you before he rushes back downstairs. I figure I have a couple hours of safety here while the Priors eat dinner, and I plan to take advantage of it.
I pace around the confined space, taking two steps in one direction, two in another. All the little hideouts where Caleb stores his books are obvious to my eyes, in part because he told me but also because we know each other so well. And some of them are obvious. The rusty bed frame conceals textbooks hidden under a thin mattress. A floorboard with three distinct scratches made by Caleb himself shelters a pair of fictional novels with cracked spines. I remember the book from my test, and long for the reaction, the sensations I had, as though I was wanted, needed, by something. I don't want to live my life as a punching bag for my father, nor as a marionette. If I stay he may not be able to touch me, but he can still control me. What if I could be with Caleb? Or Tobias? Amity and Candor hold no interest for me,