Thank you to shipsandarmies for editing this chapter!
In the morning, I wake to Eric going through his dresser.
I'm surprised that I slept, and even more surprised to find myself still exhausted. I open my eyes to light streaming in from the bathroom, and Eric on the phone. He must have just showered; the towel around his waist manages to stay on as he moves, and after an irritated sigh, he barks an answer at someone.
"Yeah, it's going swimmingly. Do you know if Harrison sent anyone yet? I know Jason said he'd go. He was optimistic he'll find his soulmate by hiding in the trees."
His sarcastic tone is clear as day, especially when he turns. His phone is pressed to his ear as he glances at the bed, but I don't think he can't see me.
His room is freezing.
I buried myself beneath a thick comforter and kept it wrapped around me the best I could.
"She's… yeah. I haven't told her. I don't think she'd be any happier to hear that. Arlene said it'll take a few days for her to acclimate, and I should wait until then. I got thirty emails from her this morning." He pauses, and the shirt crumples in his hand. "And that was all before six."
He sighs again, stretching his neck from side to side.
"She slept. I don't know how well, but I didn't hear anything. As far as I know, she didn't get up."
He returns to the bathroom and the door shuts partially behind him. I can make out a few words, and none are particularly mood lifting.
Victim, discipline, and inside job.
He says a few others, but I burrow beneath his covers and into his pillows and close my eyes until he leaves.
"Do you want something to eat?"
What seems like hours later, I jump when Eric walks into the kitchen. It's his own kitchen, but I startle like he's the one who shouldn't be here. My fingers are paused on his refrigerator door, not because I'm about to open it, but because I want to leave my fingerprints here in case something happens to me. The thought came out of nowhere, and it wouldn't stop running through my head. My entire existence is temporary; anything could end my time in Dauntless, and not one person would be any the wiser.
But maybe, just maybe, if someone did come look for me, there'd be some evidence of me in his apartment.
"Um, yes. I can make you something if you want," I offer, having zero clue what he'd eat. "Do you like… toast?"
"No."
He eyes me up and down before he knocks me out of the way to open the refrigerator door. His fridge is stocked with all kinds of fruits and vegetables, milk, lemonade, and plenty of eggs. He has a variety of protein, and absolutely nothing that contains sugar or looks like it might be dessert.
"I have a few questions for you, and then you can go… do something." He's dismissive as he searches for something to eat. He eventually pulls out butter, and something dark. "Do you like coffee?"
"I've never had it." I answer. He glances back at me, barefoot in his kitchen, watching him curiously. He pulls out the milk, then a small bottle of something clear. "What is that?"
"Coffee."
"Is it good?" I ask, stepping back. I end up against his cabinets, doing my best to stay out of his way. "Do you drink a lot of it?"
"I do." He answers easily. "Hop up there. I have to look at something."
"What?" Fear strikes through my heart, and I can't move. "What are you looking at?"
"Your leg." He answers sharply. "Arlene sent a message and I'm supposed to look at some bruise. If I don't, she'll come up here herself and neither of us want that."
"I'm not hurt."
My answer is defensive, and understandably so. When he turns, it's obvious he's used to people listening to his orders. Before I can remind him that I'm fine –Marcus hit my face not my leg –he picks me up. He sits me on the counter, and much like Arlene, without waiting for me to agree, bends down to inspect my leg. I watch him carefully, trying to guess what he's thinking. His eyes narrow when he looks at my knee, and his hands are warm as they pull my leg toward him.
There is a bruise there.
Dark and blue, one I don't remember having before.
"Did you do this in Amity?" He touches the bruise firmly, like he's aware it hurts, but he doesn't care. "They said you had no bruising. I'm supposed to make sure you still don't."
"I probably hit it when I was home. They didn't look under my dress," I answer quietly. "They only cared what was visible."
"I see."
His hands stay on my knee, just below the bruise.
"Did you often get hurt in Amity?" He straightens up until we are almost eye to eye. "They assured me you were coordinated."
"No," I try to think an appealing answer, but his expression tells me he doesn't care. "I probably hit it on the stairs or something."
I hold his stare, and his grey eyes flash with irritation. He drops my leg with a nod, then points at me.
"Stay there. I'll make you something to drink." Eric returns to the other side of the kitchen to grab a few glasses. Minutes later, he hands me a cup filled with ice and coffee, and when I take a sip, it's surprisingly sweet. "The syrup is Rylan's. He left it here. I don't normally use it, but I thought you might like it."
"I do."
If he's using the coffee as a distraction, it works. What the nurse gave me has worn off, but the coffee helps. I manage to relax enough to sip the drink, and it's quiet while he preps the eggs. He works efficiently, and it's not long before he turns the stove on. He tosses butter on the pan, adds in the eggs, some spinach, and pepper. I watch everything he does so I can try to replicate it for him, knowing the day will come sooner than later.
"When you were in Amity, did your father ever talk about you choosing another faction?" Eric asks, opening a cabinet door beneath me. He doesn't tell me to move, he merely works around me. "Or did he say anything about the Choosing Ceremony?"
"No. I know what it is, but he didn't mention it. My mom told me picking Amity would be the easiest and would help them, but she never brought it up again." I answer him carefully, and when he straightens up, his eyes find mine. "They talked a lot about my brother's Choosing Ceremony, but not mine."
"Would you have picked Amity?" He busies himself with the bread, and the only time he breaks eye contact is to put it in the toaster.
My chest aches, for more reasons than just his question.
"Yes."
"Is your brother older?" He pauses to scramble the eggs, then blinks at me. "Did you hear me, Everly?"
I hold onto the coffee tighter. I like hearing him say my name. It's a stupid thing to notice, but it reminds me that I'm real. This whole thing feels like a nightmare, but him calling me by my real name makes me think he won't kill me.
"Forrest is five years older than me."
"And the others?"
For a half second, I wonder how he knows about my family. Then I realize he can look up anyone he wants, and it would only take him a few seconds of typing to find out I had plenty of brothers and sisters.
"The rest are younger."
I don't bother to name them. He won't be impressed with any of them, nor will he care who they are.
"Are you close with your sisters?" He asks. "I saw you had a few."
"I am. Do you…. do you think the same thing will happen to them?" The fear comes right back, violent and hot. "Will they get taken, too?"
"They might." Eric's shrug is indifferent, almost cold. "How much younger are they?"
"They're three years younger. Their names are Paisley and Holly," I tell him. "What if… what if Landon brings them to the same place that he brought me?"
"Then I guess someone will bid on them." Eric's tone sharpens. "Or not."
"Maybe your friends can bring them here." I feel dizzy at the thought. "What about the other soldiers? Or you? Maybe you can get them?"
I look at him optimistically, and he shakes his head.
"I think I'm good."
My stomach sinks.
My sisters will eventually be seventeen. They'll take the same test I did, and it's likely they'll still trust Landon for no reason other than they know him. I'd bet anything he went home yesterday, told them I ran off, and spent the evening consoling them.
"I wouldn't worry about that now," Eric says. He turns to face me, and when I look at him, he doesn't smile. He stares as he hands me a plate. I didn't hear the toaster ding, and I've been too horrified at the thought of Landon tricking my sisters to realize he's done cooking. "Here. We can eat at the table."
"Okay."
I hop down off the counter with less grace than I'd like. The dizziness subsides, but the fear lingers just beneath the surface of my skin. When Eric sits down in the same chair as last night, I'm struck by how tall he is, and how strong he looks. By how harsh the tattoos on his throat are, along with the ones on his forearm.
"What are you going to do with me?" I stop at the first chair to look back at him. "What do I have to do to –"
"Everly," Eric interrupts impatiently. "Eat your breakfast. I have to be at work in an hour. I'm not doing anything to you that you need to worry about."
"Do you promise?" My voice shakes, but he nods.
"Yeah, I do. Now sit and eat before it gets cold."
With all the reluctance in the world, I sit down in the same seat as before. Eric eats quietly, and aside from his phone dinging, the apartment is silent.
"Does anyone else live here?" I break the silence, and he looks up from his phone in surprise. "Is it just you?"
"It's just me. And now you." He smiles mockingly, but I don't take it personal. He's reading something, and his widened eyes stay that way as he types something back. "Did you have friends in Amity? Anyone you were especially close to?"
"Yeah, Sophia and Courtney." I answer easily. "There were others. But they were my best friends."
"Anyone you think might pick Dauntless?" Eric's stare finds mine, intense as ever. "Either of them? Maybe someone else?"
"I don't think they'd pick Dauntless. They really like Amity. Maybe…" I take a bite of eggs, and think of my friends back home. I feel uneasy over Eric asking, and I wonder if the guy he mentioned wants to know. "Maybe Jake. He wants to leave. Um, he has some friends who'd go with him."
"Okay." Eric leans back in his chair, and his exhale is sharp.
He's dressed in half his uniform again. His t-shirt is soft looking, but fitted, and his hair is combed to the side. He watches me eat a bite of eggs, and I wish I could read his mind.
His phone rings again, the sound startling, but he declines it.
"What's your middle name?" His question comes out of nowhere, and his tone is mildly curious. "I couldn't find one."
"I don't have one."
I wait for him to ask me something else, but he doesn't. He nods as I reach for the coffee.
"Me, either."
He pushes his phone to the side then resumes eating his breakfast. There's some mild comfort in sitting here, though I know this isn't what he wants. He's giving me time to get used to being here, and when he thinks it's been long enough, he'll start the list of things he wants me to do. At the end of the day, I'm trapped; hidden in a faction where no one will ever find me, not even if they tried.
The thought is bleak.
It takes me a long time to finish my breakfast, but Eric waits until I'm done. He takes the plates and tells me he'll be back in an hour or so to show me around. His tone hints that he expects me to be ready, and wherever we are going isn't optional.
Before he leaves, he pulls his jacket on, then makes sure I'm looking at him.
"I'll be back by eleven. There are clothes on the dresser. If you need anything, it'll have to wait until I'm back. Do not try to leave. There are soldiers expecting you to run. They'll take you down by any force necessary." He stares me down, and his transformation into the Eric that runs Dauntless is complete as he buttons the jacket. "Do you understand?"
"Yes."
Satisfied by my agreement, Eric leaves. He shuts the door behind him, and a second later, it locks. I hear the mechanical click, followed by his footsteps walking away, and I stare at the door for a solid minute.
Though I could probably open it from the inside, I don't try.
The violence is unparalleled.
In the middle of a vast, open space is a ring. Thick ropes line the sides of the elevated platform, and in the middle, two men fight each other as though they are enemies. One punches the other right in the face, and though his nose gushes blood, the man doesn't stop. A howl emerges from the one who is bleeding, but a second later, he knocks the other man back and into the ropes. The man twists to get away, but the sudden blow to his head makes his mouth turn red.
My eyes widen as blood splatters on the floor.
"This the Pit. Every week, we have fights for members to bet on. These two are fighting for points. The winner gets enough to be off work for a few months. If you've bet on the fight, and you win, you get whatever points you've wagered."
Eric's explanation follows his hand cupping my elbow. His fingers stay there, not as tight as they were yesterday, but enough that I know to stay by him. His hand is warm, and I unconsciously lean back when the men fighting slam into the ropes on our side of the ring.
"What if they get really hurt? Will they die?"
Dauntless swirls around me, as fast as the man can punch his opponent. This area is packed with members watching the fight, and everyone is dressed in a shade of black. I've never seen so many ripped clothes, wild hair, and bold tattoos. Like Eric, there's an edge of sharpness to everyone; almost everyone looks tough and unfriendly, but they're fully engaged in watching the fight. The area is large enough to hold all of Amity, lit up by the rays from the open ceiling above.
I search the ceiling, trying to think if I could climb out.
I'm not optimistic.
Eric returned when he said he would, still dressed for battle. I dressed in what I assumed where Christina's clothes. I took a shower, rewashed my hair, and pulled on the first black dress I'd ever worn in my life. I found boots that must have been hers, and though I had no issue wearing something borrowed, it felt unlike myself to pair them with the dress. I let my hair dry as much as it could, and killed time by wandering around the apartment.
I figured it would be smart to learn about him, but his apartment offered nothing.
In the empty room, I learned his boots were twice the size of mine and the lone jacket tossed beside them was his. It had a black stripe on the arm, and his last name embroidered below it. The last name Coulter was stitched in maroon, and stuck out against the black. In the room he used as an office, I tentatively touched a few pieces of paper, but I was too afraid to really look through everything. His signature was on the bottom of every page, neat and precise. The work was nothing I understood and neither were the reports he was looking at.
He had a lot of maps, with areas circled in red, and some lists of people in Erudite who worked in a manufacturing plant.
His bedroom was the only place that had anything that wasn't his work, but I didn't spend too long in there.
There was no way out but his front door.
I didn't dare touch it. I had the sinking feeling there were guards outside of it. I knew better than to do something as stupid as open his front door and walk out, and he'd told me he'd assigned people to watch his apartment hallway.
I searched a few other doors but came up with nothing: he had multiple storage closets, an extra bathroom, and a hallway closet full of towels.
He came back right at eleven. I emerged from his room dressed and ready to go, and his look of exasperation was paired with an air of apprehension. When we left, I discovered I was right: no less than six guards were positioned by his door. They stared at me, unmoving as we walked past.
Eric's exasperation lessened as he waked us to a set of stairs, down a few floors, and through the faction. It was gone by the time he pointed out a few places that he deemed important: an elevator, a row of stores where he explained members could buy anything they'd like, and a restaurant the size of the Dome. He took me deeper into the faction, until we were in the middle of nowhere, and paused to watch the fight.
He doesn't appear too invested in the sparring, but more so in the members around us.
His stare scraped over the crowed, eyeing each member like he knew them. His expression is calculated, but when he looks down at me, it lessens.
"Most of these people should be at work." He remarks, his fingers still on my elbow. "I wonder if Harrison knows –"
"Hey! Eric! Everly!"
I look over to see Rylan wiggling his way through the crowd. His eyes are bright with excitement, and when he stops near us, he slaps Eric on the arm as hard as he can.
"You ass! You said you'd call me back and you didn't." He looks down at me, and his grin widens. "Hi, Everly. How are you enjoying Dauntless?"
"Um… it's…" I pause, looking at Eric. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to answer, or if he wants me to. Shannon mentioned that I should be quiet or agreeable. But Eric's attention is back on the ring and not me. "It's… good so far." I look at Rylan, and his expression is so earnest I can't help but smile back. "What I've seen, at least."
"Did Eric take you to the jails?!" Rylan asks, ignoring the swift turn of Eric's head. "Or the underground tunnels?"
"Why would I take her to the jails?" Eric stares him down like he's lost his mind. "And no. She's seen very little of the faction, but she's been here a day. I'm sure she'll see more over the next week."
"Oh, so she can't go with me to the basement? Or the –"
"No." Eric cuts him with a shake of his head.
"Why not!?"
"I don't want to go the basement," I also shake my head, horrified at what could be down there. "Are you here to fight?"
"Me?" Rylan blinks in surprise. "No. I'm banned from fighting. I'm too powerful for anyone to fight against. We need soldiers, and if I fight everyone, we'll have no one left."
"Oh." I stare at the look on his face, one that hints he's both telling the truth but also thinks he's hilarious, and I wonder which faction he came from. "It sounds… like you're very strong."
"I am."
"Everly and I have to get going. Are you sticking around?" Eric's fingers tense, but only because the crowd steps backwards as one of the men is thrown over the ropes. "Harrison wants to meet at five if you're free."
"No, I'm meeting Tori. She wants to go to Erudite and I told her I'd drive. I already talked to Harrison. He said…" Rylan pauses, and when he looks at me, he's frustrated. "He said we need to be careful. If they don't think she's being used for what you bought her for, they'll figure something is up. He wants me to put my name in for the next time. Jason might be a better choice, but Jason wasn't sure he could go through with it."
"Right. I'll have her run some laps or something." Eric shrugs, ignoring the way Rylan's expression drops. "What?"
"I think this would be easier if she knew." He clamps his mouth shut, and when I look up at Eric, Eric's lips press together. "It's your call, though."
"I already spoke to Harrison about it. The less she knows, the better."
With that, Eric pulls on my arm, nods at Rylan, and curtly tells him he'll see him later. I'm taken through the crowd and back into a hallway. Eric stops a few feet in, and before I know what's happening, I'm shoved backwards. Not as hard as he could, but enough that I'm out of sight. He stops me before I hit the wall, and my heart races as his hands grasp my arms.
He shoves his face so close to mine I can smell his toothpaste.
"Listen to me, because I'm only going to tell you this once: you are to do as I say, and only what I say. Not just because I bought you," he pauses, and in the dark, his expression is hard to see. "But because it'll keep you alive."
My lungs flatten until there is no air left in them.
"If you don't, and you try to run or you think you're going to get out of here, you won't stay alive for long. If I don't find you, they will. Do you promise that you'll do as I say?"
"I will." The awful feeling from a day ago returns, and I struggle to look at him. "I said I'd listen. Just tell me what you want me to do."
"Good." He loosens his grip, and his head leans toward mine. "You need to trust me. If you can get through the next few months, you'll be fine."
"What happens then?" I crane my head up, and a red light blinks. It moves, scanning the room. "Will you let me go?"
"No."
He drops his hands away, and his shoulders rise.
"No more questions, Everly. And don't go anywhere with Rylan."
He waves for me to follow him, and the rest of my tour is silent.
By the time noon rolls around, I am terrified.
Eric and I stand on the edge of the rooftop. He nudges me forward, toward an opening of black. When I look down, my palms become sweaty. The fall is one I wouldn't survive; I can't see the bottom, and the opening is wide, but pitch black. Eric can sense my fear. He bumps my arm on purpose and goads me to look over again. I try not to look down, and instead focus on how good the fresh air feels after being inside.
The sunlight pours over us, warming my skin after hours beneath the Earth.
"Are you afraid?" Eric casually stands next to me, unbothered, and his eyes squint in the sunlight.
"What's at the bottom?" I look up, and when I sway, he grabs my arm. "Is there water?"
"There's a net. This is where the initiates jump." Eric's answer is paired with him stepping down from the ledge and onto the roof. "If they don't, they're out."
"Why?" I look at him, still nowhere near his height, and he stares back. "What happens then?"
"They become factionless." His shrug is indifferent. "We usually don't see them again. At least, not for a while."
"That's…"
I lose my train of thought when my foot slips. The boots are slightly too big, and when I try to catch my balance, they are too heavy. The sky tilts. My fall backwards makes my stomach drop, but Eric has me by the arm. I gasp when he pulls me off the ledge and towards him.
"You're fine." He reassures me, but the sound is muffled. "I've got you."
My heart races again, almost as fast as when he pushed me away from the Pit, and I wonder if he's doing this on purpose. He's impatient as I attempt to calm down, and when I don't, he pulls me further back on the roof. I hit his jacket, so close I can see the stitching along the buttons, and he quickly puts space between us.
"You wouldn't die, even if you fell. Everyone who chooses Dauntless jumps down there. It's safe."
The heat sears around us. My dress sticks to my skin as I struggle to stay upright, trying to make sense of what just happened. I'm not afraid of heights. I never have been. I've jumped from the highest cliffs into the lakes near Amity. I've climbed trees during hide and seek, and I've hung out in the barn roofs, occasionally sliding down and outside to duck away from Johanna.
But here, atop a building it feels different. I am less brave than I was before Landon brought me to that place. All I can think about is that a day ago, I was in Amity, making plans with Sophia and Courtney. I was happy and content, picking flowers that matched my dress before heading out to what I thought was lunch. Today, I am here, with someone I don't know, telling me to trust him even though I don't think I can.
"Everly." Eric says my name so loudly I jump. "Are you alright? I asked if you need to sit down."
"I didn't hear you." I realize I am holding onto him, and my hands are shaking. "I don't know what's wrong. I'm not scared of heights, but I don't want to be up here."
"You're fine." Eric answers evenly. "I needed you to see this."
He lets me catch my breath until his phone rings. Then he tells me to sit down, and when I do, he answers with a bark of exasperation.
"What?" He snarls at whomever has called him. "Yeah, I'm aware. I brought her to roof where the initiates jump. That's it. She's good now."
He pauses to glance at me out of the corner of his eye, and his next word is even harsher.
"No."
His tone becomes venomous, but I stop paying attention. I pull my knees to my chest and rest my cheek on them. I try to slow the frantic pace of my heart and focus on breathing in and out. Part of me wonders if he'll make me jump. The idea of falling several stories is unpleasant, but it must be easy enough if the new members can do it. I close my eyes as the wind picks up, carrying Eric's voice over to me.
"She wouldn't survive the initiation. Not without my help. It runs two months. I don't have that time –"
He stops speaks when someone must interrupt him. I don't have to open my eyes to tell he's irritated.
"It would be incredibly suspicious for her to rank high enough to stay. Four will have an absolute fit over skewing the rankings. Not to mention we'd be kicking out an actual viable solider so she could take their place."
My heart sinks at his words.
The thought of joining their initiation class is nauseating, and I don't even know what it entails.
"That would be laughable." He retorts. "Look, it's rumored that Amity will be providing the catering for the Choosing Ceremony. Harrison mentioned it's their turn, and they'll be in attendance, presumably those who deal with the food orders. I don't see how it's relevant past that's where she's from."
I screw my eyes shut tighter when I hear his footsteps.
"That would make her a pawn in our game. Not theirs."
A second later, he touches my hair to get my attention.
He quickly pulls hand away to tap my arm.
"Come on. We're done for the day. You can go home and take a nap or something. Whatever you want. We'll grab lunch on the way." He looks down at me with a sneer on his lips, but it's temporary. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
I sit up straight, making sure he sees that I'm okay. I have the sinking feeling he's going to put me through the Dauntless initiation, purely for his own entertainment. His expression remains impassive; he doesn't seem to like me, but he's responsible for me by his own doing.
"Let's go."
He doesn't help me up.
He waits until I stand, then leads me to the stairs, and back inside Dauntless.
By the time we make it to lunch, I have no doubt that Eric will kill me at some point.
The look on his face when I miss a step on the stairs and nearly fall to my death is telling.
I hate how unlike myself I feel, but I try to accept that things are out of my control. The fear of being on the roof eventually subsides, and so does Eric's annoyance at whoever called him. We reached the floor he wanted in minutes, and his posture changed. He perked up as much as Eric could; his eyes lightened when we walked toward the restaurant, and I realized we were meeting the people who must be his friends.
Rylan stands to the side of doors with one foot atop a large statue of a bear. He waves, chewing on a straw while frantically typing on his phone. He's less put together now, but just as enthused at our arrival.
Until he looks at me, and his smile drops.
"What did you do to her? She looks ill."
"I took her to the roof. Harrison requested she know how to get into Dauntless." Eric slickly explains. His palm finds my lower back, and he pushes me toward the restaurant. "Now we're here with you."
"Only the initiates enter Dauntless that way. We have a front door," Rylan rolls his eyes, but his mood immediately resumes being as cheerful as ever. "Hey, they have tacos right now."
"Oh good."
Eric humorlessly follows me into the restaurant, and it's like nothing I've seen before. Amity doesn't have restaurants, so I assumed Dauntless wouldn't either. This one doesn't fit in here, and maybe that's why it's so crowded. Every table and booth is full, and when we walk by, it seems like everyone looks at me. Their stares are exactly what I would expect, given how no one knows who I am or why I'm here. The men stare in a way that hints they'll be next at the tents, and the women all look worried. One with vibrant purple hair leans across the table to reach for me, and when her hand touches my wrist, she stands.
"Is she alright?"
She's tall, almost as tall as Eric, and dressed in dark blue.
"Eric? Is she alright?" She demands. "Harrison told me –"
"She's fine. Everly, this is Rachel. She oversees one of the better patrols." He smirks at her, but his hand stays on me, ushering us apart. "Don't touch her."
"Why?" Rachel cocks her head at him. For a second, they look alike. But she backs away first, letting go of me after a pause. "Fine. If you need anything, let me know. I'll help you however I can."
"That won't be necessary," Eric's fingers dig into my back, and he steps so close my head hits his chest. "She's good."
"Is she?" Rachel questions, dropping her stare to me. "I certainly hope so. Is she staying with you?"
Her voice is full of concern. I get the impression Eric doesn't routinely host guests, nor does he want anyone around him. He nods at her, and her eyes tighten.
"Okay." She relents. "I didn't think…" She pauses, and her next words are spoken directly to me as she changes her mind. "Welcome to Dauntless. You can always come find me if you need any help."
"Thanks. It's nice to meet you," I answer, ignoring the way I can feel the heat radiating from Eric. His fingers press harder, like he's promoting me to tell her no.
He's not, but I do anyway.
The less trouble I cause, the better.
"Thank you for the offer, but I'm alright." I look at Eric out of the corner of my eye, and when he nods, I know I've made the right decision. "I promise."
"Of course." Rachel sits down, keeping her stare on me. "Enjoy your lunch."
"We will." Eric flashes her a condescending grin, then nudges me forward. "Keep going. We're sitting in the booth on the left, where the guy with the red hair is."
"Okay."
I don't move on his command. I look at Rachel, sitting with her friends, and around the restaurant. It's filled with people enjoying their lunches. Gossip fills the air, warm and happy, and the conversation is lively. I hear my name whispered a few times, and if I were to close my eyes, I'd be back in Amity. In the Dome, or perhaps at the lone bar we had. It was run by my brother, who only worked a few days and spent the rest of his time goofing off with friends.
"Any day now, Everly."
Eric leans down to murmur my name. His hand stays on my back, steady and firm, even when I keep walking.
I eventually reach the table, and to my surprise, I learn that Eric has lots of friends.
"Do you need anything else?"
I look up at Eric, and his whole bedroom seems to darken. He's ditched his t-shirt and his pants, and his quick shower has left his hair damp. He squints at me, his stare curious. I'm already in bed. I've pulled the covers up as high as I could, and tried to fall asleep before he was done.
I couldn't.
I'd spent most of the day with him, and during lunch with his friends –Jason, Rylan, and someone named Jeremy, we were joined by a guy named Four. Eric greeted him less than cordially, and their conversation quickly changed to their upcoming initiation. I was an afterthought at the table, but I was fine with it. Eric ordered my lunch, and I ate the same thing he had. I drank water alongside him and sat close enough that no one would assume I was here alone, but far enough away as not to touch him.
They talked about the initiation class with disdain, but it was mostly Eric. He didn't think highly of the incoming class, even though he had no clue who they were. He seemed to dislike the idea of anyone choosing Dauntless, and his reasoning must have been personal. Jason snickered a suggestion that Eric help Four, and both Four and Eric looked visibly irritated at the idea.
I didn't like this Four person, especially when he looked at me like I was the most pathetic person he'd ever seen. His sympathy felt strange; he appeared to know why I was here, and there was some hidden superiority in his stare. When Rylan suggested that I drop by the initiation class a few times, just enough that they'd know my face and name, he shook his head firmly.
"I don't think that's smart."
It was his only real contribution. I could tell Eric agreed with him, but he didn't let him know that.
We left not much later, and I was shown several places that Eric deemed worthy of his attention. I saw a piercing parlor –where he spoke to the guy working and made him agree not to pierce or tattoo me even if I begged him, a store that sold clothes like the ones Rachel had on, and the mess hall. Eric told me I could eat there, but the look on his face hinted I shouldn't.
We went back to his apartment by three thirty, and he left me alone to return to work.
He gave me a few things to do, and the dread in my stomach felt like a boulder. His list was nothing exhaustive, but it was a start: someone was dropping off his laundry, and I was to collect it, turn on his dishwasher, and staple some papers together for him.
The papers were easy enough to find. He'd left them on the counter, and when I flipped through to put them in order, I froze.
My name was all over them.
Everly Carlen existed in Amity, but my life ended there.
These papers had my name listed beside Eric's, and a signature that was not mine beneath it. I read the papers three times before I realized they were dated in the future. One was an agreement to be seen in the infirmary for an initiate checkup, one was a form releasing Arlene from being held accountable for some procedure, and the other was a document listing me as Eric's spouse.
The girls from the tents were right; I had been sold with the intent of becoming Eric's wife. Once this paper went where it needed to go, it would be official. Everly Carlen would be gone. Everly Coulter would live here, with Eric, doing whatever he demanded.
I wondered if anyone back home would know, but when I found the next page, I knew it wouldn't matter.
It was a letter to Johanna, explaining that Amity would soon be under Dauntless' control.
With a heavy feeling in my throat, I stapled the papers together, and left them on the counter. I turned on the dishwasher, accepted Eric's clothing and numbly put it away in his drawers. I took another shower to kill time, and set the table for dinner. I opened his fridge once, but I couldn't think of anything to make. He hadn't told me to make dinner, but I figured it would put me in better standing with him.
My vision blurred as I tried to concoct something with what was in his fridge, but he came home as I was giving up, and in his hands was a bag from somewhere. He'd brought dinner, and he announced he'd ordered for me.
As I sat beside him, I badly wanted to ask him about the papers. He wasn't stupid, he knew I'd read them. But I couldn't find the courage to ask if it really meant I was his wife, or if he'd kill me before then. The date on the paper was months out, and maybe this was a trial run. In the end, my fears were pointless because he didn't say much. He ate his dinner while occasionally looking at me, then announced he was going to bed early.
I tried not to think about where he would be sleeping.
"I'm fine. Do you need anything?" From beneath his comforter, I stare at his hair. His face, and the defined jaw that he set askew to shake his head. The muscle of his back, and the way his arms appeared the size of my head. "I can sleep somewhere else."
"No." Displeased as ever, he pressed his lips together, then cocked his head at an angle. "Did you ever sleep at Landon's?"
His question catches me off guard.
He walks closer to the bed, stopping to touch the end.
"Everly?"
"No, never." I answer defensively, but I don't know why. "I could have, if I wanted to."
"And you didn't?" He raises an eyebrow at me, clearly expecting an answer.
"No." I sit up straighter, and his stare moves to my exposed shoulder. It's his shirt, too oversized and worn, and I chose it because it was warm. "He wasn't… the best. But he was all I had. Or… that's what I thought."
I stumble over my words, hating how they sound.
When Eric doesn't say anything, I keep talking.
"I didn't want to stay with him." I admit before I can stop myself. "I never should have gone anywhere with him."
"You were reported as missing." Eric tells me. His tone is as sharp, especially when he looks up. "We got the official request today."
"You did?" I sit up even straighter, and the comforter falls away. "What happens now?"
"Dauntless will investigate. Harrison will send a few soldiers to take some statements, but I predict no one will have seen or heard anything." He pauses, and when his eyes find mine, his smile is full of fake, saccharine sympathy. "Landon will be questioned. So will your family."
"Did my parents report it?" I hold onto his comforter, and this time, his eyes drop. He looks me up and down, and I know the answer before he says it. "Eric?"
"No. Sophia did."
The next days are brutal.
Eric gives me a few rules to follow, pointing out that they're for my safety:
Don't try to leave.
Don't go through his things looking for a way out.
Don't answer questions from people I don't know; this one was said pointedly, while he thinly explained not everyone in Dauntless would be polite or welcoming.
If I need anything, ask him.
Stay out of his way.
Don't open his apartment door unless he instructs me to.
Don't attempt to hurt myself, flee in the middle of the night, or run back to Amity.
I agreed.
I had little to energy to try and run, nor did I believe I'd get away.
So, I keep to myself, away from Eric as much as I can. Unfortunately for me, he's everywhere. It's his apartment, and I'm stuck inside, hoping he won't change his mind about what he wants me to do. I wait for him to demand that I perform some task other than household duties, but so far, he gives me regular, boring chores to do.
Fold his clothes when they are dropped off.
Give the laundry to whomever picks it up, including my own.
Put away the groceries that are delivered.
Throw out anything expired.
Drink some water and eat lunch even when I'm not hungry.
Put away his clothes, but hang up his jackets. His boots go in the closet, and his button-down shirts, a surprise to me, hang up beside him. My own clothes partner his, smaller and less assuming, and mostly new.
I was surprised to find them arrive in numerous amounts, but it solidified the fact that I was staying here. I had some hope that Sophia would have told them something that would have revealed where I was, but I was slowly realizing all of Dauntless knew where Eric had gone and what he done.
But they didn't care.
Neither did Amity.
Whoever went to talk to my family didn't offer to return me, and Eric's only answer to what was said was nothing. He informed me that Sophia was firm in her statement that I wouldn't run off into the woods, but she didn't know where else I would have gone. Landon stuck by his statement that we'd gone on a picnic, where I'd left suddenly, and my parents agreed that it was likely an act of rebellion over not wanting to stay in Amity. Courtney didn't quite back them up, but she couldn't think of where I would go, or why I'd leave. Her best guess was that I was unhappy in Amity, and I'd left before my parents could try to persuade me to stay.
That one stung.
They closed the case a day later, as Eric pressed a donut into my hand with as much sympathy as he could muster.
None.
"If it makes you feel better, your little brother said you wouldn't run away." He held my stare as I reached for the donut slowly, not entirely positive he hadn't done something to it that would drug me into listening to him. "And Forrest…he was less than impressed with Jeremy's investigation. He tried to organize a search party, but your father was adamant that it was a waste of time. From what I gathered, he had to get back to work because they're behind on fulfilling their orders."
"They only looked for one day?" My fingers grazed his as I took the donut from him. "No one thought they could find me?"
"They were never going to find you," Eric pointed out. "But yes, they held a one-day, faction-wide search which obviously turned up empty-handed."
"What about the… the people who took me? They didn't see them? Or the tents? They were near Amity. They were –"
"The auction moves. Once you express interest, you're given a code, a background check, and they approve or deny you. If they deny you, they threaten your very existence by exposing what you're interested in. Not many factions are tolerant of men purchasing stolen women." Eric answered very carefully. He was guilty of this himself, and ironically, he was acting like he wasn't. "Ones reputation could be destroyed by such knowledge."
"What about yours?" I asked.
Eric laughed.
It was a snicker of hilariousness, aimed at me.
"My reputation was ruined a long time ago. I don't think there's anything that could make it any worse."
He pulled his hand away. He stood before me in a uniform that proudly boasted that he protected the factions and their citizens, and with a brisk nod, told me I could pick dinner.
"I'll be back around six. Think of what you want to eat and I'll make it."
His offer was not generous or kind, it was to make things easy. He knew this knowledge would hurt, and he was right.
I spent the rest of the afternoon on his couch, staring at the wall.
"You're late."
The woman behind the counter stares Eric down with a vengeance. She looks at me the same way, and when I don't smile, her dislike intensifies.
"Who is this?" She types on a computer, and her black nails clack noisily. "Did you finally land yourself a girlfriend? Does she know who you are?"
"She needs the same vitamins that I take." Eric answers boredly, avoiding her questions. He examines his cuticles, then me. Out of the corner of his eye, his gaze is scrutinous at best. "Maybe something to make her taller, too."
"We don't have anything for that," She sighs. The woman stops typing and her eyes narrow. "And are you going to answer me?"
"No, I'm not." Eric smiles mockingly. "Arlene said you'd have then ready for me."
"I was told you'd be here by eleven." She looks directly at me, and I get the feeling she thought I was behind this. "It's nearly two."
"Congrats on learning to tell time."
Eric's answer, biting and spoken so darkly I know he hates this woman, makes me cough. I try to stop the bark of laughter from escaping, but it's nearly impossible.
I'm not the reason we are late.
Eric is.
He left me alone with a new list of demands: organize his bathroom cabinet, make his bed, find a specific pair of pants he wanted pressed, make myself something for breakfast, take out the trash and leave it by the front door, then set the table for dinner. The chores were juvenile. He was keeping me busy and we both knew it.
I didn't entirely mind the chores.
I found some comfort in washing dishes and picking out plates I could barely reach, but not much.
I was lost in making the bed when Eric returned with his phone to his ear. He nodded at me, sat down on his bed, and sighed so exasperatedly that I thought he might throw his phone at the wall. I half listened while he spoke to someone, and whatever they said had him walking into his office and shutting the door before I could ask if he wanted something to drink.
He didn't emerge until fifteen minutes ago when he snapped that I was to come along with him. He walked so fast that I almost had to sprint to keep up, only to discover he was making me join him to pick up vitamins.
"Do you need anything else?" The woman asks, her words spoken through gritted teeth. "I found orders for you and... Everly. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"What is this?" I wait until the lady turns to the counter behind her. She rifles through several bags, muttering beneath her breath. "Is it a doctor's office?"
"It's a pharmacy. Everything we get from Erudite comes here. I'm supposed to start you on a regimen of vitamins, sunlight, and something other than salad. Per Harrison's orders." Eric looks at me out of the corner of his eye. "Have you ever been to a doctor's office before?"
"No." I dislike the way he's talking about me like I'm a house plant. "Do you take them? Do you trust Erudite?"
"No, I do not." Eric answers with mild patience. "I'm assuming these are safe. If you drop dead, I guess we'll know I was wrong."
I stare at him, his hair slicked away from his face and his uniform as black as the night, and he looks down his nose at me.
"What?"
"Are you serious?" I cross my arms, stepping away from him. "What do you mean… if I drop dead?"
"You won't." He huffs. "I've had to take them since coming back. They're fine. Nasty tasting, but fine."
Before I can try to figure out a way to tell him I don't want to take them, the woman returns. She hands him two white bags, and her gaze flits between us. "Does she need anything else?"
"No, she doesn't."
Eric answers for me.
He swipes a card with little enthusiasm, then wordlessly hands me one of the bags. My heart soars when I see Everly Carlen on the sticker, but it quickly stops when it's crossed out. Everly Coulter is written beside it, so large that it's impossible to miss. My grip tightens on the bag, and I wait until Eric gestures for me to follow him.
"This way," he commands, slowing when footsteps approach from the side. His hand finds my lower back, large and warm, and he leaves it there. "Are you hungry?"
"I am." I answer as a group rounds the corner, and I'm suddenly face to face with members of Dauntless.
A woman my age, but with white-blonde hair. A boy Eric's height, with shaggy brown hair and a scowl on his lips. A few others, dressed in dark clothes with piercings littering their face and several with no tell-tale signs of Dauntless.
They stop to stare at me; one's mouth falls open, and the blonde girl elbows her friends.
"Holy shit. Is that… she's Eric's..."
She doesn't finish her sentence. Eric looks at her, and his fingers press into my back.
He pushes me past them, into the open expanse in front of the pharmacy. He walks us towards the row of stores, then towards the same bar we'd eaten at with his friends. Away from the nosy group, he lowly asks if I'm alright, and my nod is tight.
Behind us, the faint sound of someone exclaiming that they've finally seen Eric's fiancée fills the air.
On Tuesday, he leaves with a poignant look at me.
I stand in his kitchen, barefoot, holding my coffee while watching him. He fidgets with the cuff of his sleeve, then adjusts them once more. His confidence is on full display this morning; his hair is severely parted, and he's had it cut since I've met him. He radiates an aura of terror as he reaches for his phone, and dutifully declines a call when he sees the name.
Camille.
She calls a second time, and he declines that call as well.
"Do you know what you're supposed to do today?" He asks, straightening out his jacket collar. "Everly?"
He says my name like it's a weaspon. It always sounds like a secret he's being forced to admit, and I half wonder if he'd not refer to me by anything.
"Yes. Accept your laundry, sign… the papers that are being dropped off, and um…" I pause, knowing there's something else that I'm forgetting. "Oh, order groceries when they come by."
"You can order whatever you need. They'll give you a list." He reminds me. Eric pauses, and his stare turns critical. "Don't forget the vitamins."
"I won't." I swallow a sip of the coffee –sweet and ice cold –and his gaze stays on me. "Anything else you want me to do?"
"That'll be all."
He stares at me once more, an itchy gaze that makes me think he's setting me up for slaughter, then marches to the front door. He grabs a few things off the counter, then slams the door behind him. I'm left alone, staring between his kitchen and dining room, with nothing but a full day of hoping someone remembers that I am missing.
He doesn't sleep.
Not like a normal person, at least.
I awake a few times, always off the grip of a raging nightmare that ends with me leaving the auction with Marcus. My breathing is shaky and uneven, and my skin feels like it's on fire. I throw the comforter off and climb out of bed. When my feet hit the floor, I tell myself I'm fine. I focus on what I can feel, how cold it is in the bedroom, and how not so silent the hallway is.
Darkness engulfs me while I walk, but I welcome it.
I keep walking until I reach the living room, and there, I find Eric on his couch.
He's facing the tv while something plays. It looks like footage from some sort of battle, but I have no idea if it's real or not. His head is bent forward, and his shoulders rise as he types on his tablet. The clock on the wall reads two thirty in the morning as someone is dragged away from a field on the screen, and it cuts away to an interrogation office.
On the screen, Eric sits with Harrison, scoffing when the person says something.
I recognize the man.
A friend of Landon's, always in trouble with Johanna for slacking off, always leaving Amity on the first truck he could find.
It's weird to see Eric speaking to him, and even weirder when they keep interrogating him until the man admits he was the one in the woods.
Eric watches the screen with some interest; a moment later, he rubs his eyes, reclines back against the couch, and doesn't move. I assume he's fallen asleep because the screen eventually darkens, and he doesn't turn it back on.
The next night is the same but with different footage.
The third night is the worst.
I awake swallowing a scream, the nightmare ripped from me as Eric shoves my arm to wake me up. His hand is hot as he forcefully tells me to open my eyes, and he pushes harder when I don't wake up as fast as he'd like.
When I realize he's standing beside the bed, I notice he's drowsy looking. His hair hangs in his face, and his cheek is red from resting it on the arm of the couch.
"It's a dream," he grits out, his eyes halfway open. "You're fine. No one is trying to kill you."
I don't say anything.
The nightmare is a little too real, and the sensation of someone running after me, hunting me like I was nothing more than easy prey, is right there. Choking me by the throat and refusing to let go. It's intense enough that I can barely swallow, and when it finally retreats, the feeling slowly going away, Eric sighs.
"Can you go back to sleep?"
He waits until I nod, but I don't fall back asleep, and neither does he.
The nightmares worsen when I realize there really is no way out.
On a surprise trip to the Control Room, an expansive space full of monitors, screens, and members dutifully logging everything they watch, I am given the full scope of what Dauntless can see.
Everything.
Every entrance has a camera above it. Every exit door has an alarm or alert. Soldiers patrol the faction as though they are under attack, and the gates are locked unless a truck is coming in or out. Members swipe a card, or they show a badge to those waiting at the exits.
I have neither of those things.
"Click on that camera and move it to the left." Eric's voice breaks my concentration. The screen before us changes, and the girl working slides the camera to reveal the Amity faction. "Zoom in there. What is that?"
He cocks his head, and my stomach twists.
The sight is familiar, but unsettling. Sophia heads down the pathway, clutching her arms around herself as she walks with Jake. They whisper back and forth, occasionally speeding up until they reach the lake. Behind them, his stare intense and displeased, is Landon.
He watches them with a hint of trepidation that eventually shifts into pure hatred.
It's a new camera.
"The other left," Eric snaps. "What's over there?"
The girl quickly fixes her mistake. The camera pans over to my mother, walking with Zander, and her forlorn expression isn't as intense as one would think. She smiles at Johanna, woozily, under the thick dose of peace serum she's likely taken, and I make out her words even through the grainy footage.
It's possible she did run, but she was never like this before. Maybe Landon is telling the truth.
Perhaps.
Johanna nods.
Their posture mirrors each other's. Both are suspicious, yet disheartened, and I know that neither of them will continue looking for me.
Not that it would matter.
The monitor blinks and beeps. Eric shifts his weight from foot to foot, and my head hits his arm. I've stepped closer to him as the camera panned to see the field, and my stare stays on the screen as my father joins Jerry. Above them, the camera is mounted…somewhere. On a post maybe, or maybe not.
I glance up at Eric, and he looks down at me.
"What?"
"Are the cameras new?" I watch as the girl angles the camera to a different view: the lake glistens beneath the sun, and on the banks of the shore sits Sophia, looking miserable. "Amity doesn't have very many."
"They are new," Eric answers slicky. "They went up a few days ago."
"Johanna said yes?" I'm surprised that she'd agree to such invasive surveillance, but Eric's smirk is all the answer I need. "No?"
"We didn't ask."
He returns his attention to Sophia, and this time, she looks up, right into the camera.
By the time the news of the investigation stopped stinging, two weeks have passed. I lie in Eric's bed with my eyes wide open, having already made a small mark on a scrap of paper. I'm counting the days one by one, but I'm not sure to what. A few months ago, I'd have counted down to my birthday. Now, I'm counting down to some invisible deadline that would mean Eric could take full advantage of having me with him. The ebb and flow of what he wanted would change, and he wouldn't be content with a wife who could barely cook his pasta.
I'd tried.
A few days later, he returned to me attempting to make him dinner, only to have every alert blaring on his stove. He turned them off with a snarl, and he instructed me not to attempt to make him dinner again. The look on his face was telling: he'd paid a lot of points for someone who wasn't living up to his expectations, and his exasperation stayed on his face while we ate dinner.
I sigh heavily at the memory, letting my eyes shut as I visualize all the marks. All fourteen, neatly in a row, a visible reminder of where I came from.
"Move over."
I open my eyes to a blur of black and the feeling of Eric climbing into bed beside me. The horror I felt when I first arrived here is nothing like I feel now. I brace for the worst; I expect him to rip my shirt off or demand I take his boxers off, but he doesn't. He lies down far away from me, pulling the covers over him and exhaling so wearily that I expect him to wither away into dust.
"What are you doing?" I ask, trying to sound brave instead of horrified. "Eric?"
"My neck is fucked from sleeping on the couch. The other bed won't arrive for a few weeks. Until then, I'm sleeping here. You'll live." He mutters, throwing his arm over his eyes. "I'm sure you've shared a bed before."
"Not like this."
I should move away from him, but I can't. I stare at his bare chest, the defined muscle in his arm, and the way he slowly turns his head to look at me. Annoyance is all over his face, especially when I hold onto the sheets.
"I'm not going to murder you. Just go to sleep. I won't touch you, and I'll be gone before you wake up." He informs me darkly. "You're more than welcome to sleep on the couch if you want."
"I will."
I won't.
His living room is far away, and way too exposed. There's nothing to hide beneath, and if he decided to end my life, it would be easier near the tile of his kitchen. Terrified, I wait to see if he moves, but he simply shuts his eyes and throws his arm by his side.
"Eric…"
"What?" He doesn't open his eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Why did you buy me? Out of all the girls there?" Sick with panic, I ask the question I've been wondering for a while now.
Out of everyone there, he could have picked Miranda, or someone who wasn't desperate to get home to a place who didn't even want her. Someone who wouldn't be so openly afraid of him. Someone who isn't inching away from him like he's a wild animal, preparing to go right for my throat.
"Why didn't you choose one of the girls who looked like you?"
He doesn't answer me immediately.
He wets his lips, then opens his eyes to look at me. He's somehow more dangerous in the dark, especially when his stare finds mine.
"I didn't want them."
His answer is spoken with a note of finality. His eyes are light as he blinks, and when I don't answer, he shuts them.
Eric falls asleep before I do.
It takes me a long time to drift off, until my brain stops analyzing what he's just said as if it meant anything more than it did.
It doesn't.
It means he found someone weak enough to take control over, and that's all he wants.
In the morning, there is blood.
I walk into the bathroom cautiously, listening to him swear at the water. He stands at one of the basins, scrubbing his hands with soap. His undershirt is black, and his uniform pants are spotted with red, and his boots have splatters on them. From the doorway, I watch him remain stoic as he scrubs someone's blood from beneath his fingernails. He sighs, then finds my stare in the mirror.
"What?"
His sharpness is expected –wherever he's been has left him vibrating with anger. It's behind his stare, now cold and calculated, and woven into the fabric of his very being. He turns the water off without looking at the faucet, then faces me.
"Do you need something?"
"What happened?" I ask, so softly I'm not sure I've actually said the words. "Did you kill someone?"
"I was attacked." His eyes lock on mine, and our worlds collide in a spectacular fashion.
In Amity, I once held a dying rabbit that had been injured in the woods. Jake joined me. The two of us tried to save the rabbit, but we couldn't. We stayed still, cradling the small animal until it slowly stopped breathing. I spent the rest of the day distraught over the loss of life; the rabbit had done nothing but exist, and it felt unfair for its life to end so soon. The death stayed with me for days, until my father pointed out, as gently as he could, that it was the circle of life, and I'd see much worse once I had a farm of my own.
In Dauntless, Eric stands in his bathroom, cleaning his hands from the blood of another man. I don't know the specifics of the attack, but it's clear Eric won. I doubt he'll think about this fight much more, and if he does, it'll be with accomplishment. Triumph. Victory, for overtaking someone out to hurt him.
He won't lose sleep over it.
"I was on a patrol a route near Amity and we ran into a few issues. It's fine." His continued explanation is thin, and surprising. He doesn't have to tell me what he was doing, but he does. "Had I not stopped the man, we'd have lost a good group."
"I see." I swallow when he rubs his knuckles. The red doesn't go away, and it looks like it will bruise. "Do you have to go back there? Was it very close to Amity? Did you… did you see anyone from Amity nearby?"
When he looks at me, I hate the way there's a flicker of mild, hidden empathy behind his stare. It's hard to even call it empathy; he looks like he feels bad for me, or like he's embarrassed on my behalf.
He's right.
I'm worried about a faction where the only person upset that I was gone is my friend.
"I do have to go back. But not today."
Eric looks at me, and our conversation end when he reaches for his watch. It's on the counter beside a bloodied jacket, and a stack of papers. He takes everything with him, then walks past me with a look of understanding.
"Sophia is still looking for you."
He leaves me standing in his bathroom, wondering how on Earth anyone believed I simply walked out of Amity.