Fractured | Tobias Eaton ✓

09 | What Do You Know

I don't sleep at all that night. The first day of training was tomorrow and despite my preparations, the Dauntless-born initiates seemed to be so much stronger than us transfers. Once we all made it to the gym, it was evident I wasn't the only one who had a sleepless night.

Four stands in front of us, "The first thing you will learn today is how to shoot a gun. The second thing is how to win a fight." He carries a tub full of pistols, I've never held a gun before. Baba told me that he couldn't prepare me for a gun. I close my eyes as Four hands me one.

A small prayer, among the few I've made since I got here. Let me live.

"Thankfully, if you are here, you already know how to get on and off a moving train, so I don't need to teach you that." Nobody laughs, probably too nervous to react. Four shakes his head to himself and once everyone has a gun, sets the tub on the floor and holds his hands in front of himself.

"Initiation is divided into three stages. We will measure your progress and rank you according to your performance in each stage. The stages are not weighted equally in determining your final rank, so it is possible, though difficult, to drastically improve your rank over time."

I notice how many of my fellow initiates seem to deflate. The one hopeful thing we've heard since we got here. At least now I might have a genuine chance.

Four continues explaining the process, "We believe that preparation eradicates cowardice, which we define as the failure to act in the midst of fear." That makes me crinkle my nose, we define, that's rich considering that's what cowardice is. "Therefore each stage of initiation is intended to prepare you in a different way. The first stage is primarily physical; the second, primarily emotional; the third, primarily mental."

"But what..." Someone–Peter–yawns, "What does firing a gun have to do with..." Another loud yawn cuts him off, "Bravery?"

What happens next throws everyone off their balance, Four steps up to Peter and shoves his gun against Peter's forehead, a clicking sound makes me think he's got a bullet ready to... wake Peter up.

"Wake. Up. You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it."

Peter's frozen form is riddled with embarrassment, anyone with a brain can see that. But once Four removes the gun from Peter's forehead, I see his fist ball. His cheeks are a bright red contrast to his white skin.

"And to answer your question... you are far less likely to soil your pants and cry for your mother if you're prepared to defend yourself." Four spins on his heel, eyes moving across the group and stopping on me for just a second. I'm probably imagining it. "This is also information you may need later in stage one. So, watch me."

Another spin–and he's facing the targets on the opposite wall. Four fires once and hits the bullseye. I gulp and realize there's a target for each of us.

Baba did just this, and so did David. They had the courage to do so and so would I. I don't think about my mother as I hold the gun as best as I can. While we lacked firearms, David found an old carved wooden gun in the city somewhere for me to practice my form.

"The gun has no more power than you do. Don't ever forget that."

I try to remember that as I ready myself with a deep breath, reminding myself of how loud it is. The trigger resists my finger as I try harder. The recoil throws my shoulder back and leaves me struggling to catch my balance.

The ringing in my ear is loud as I squeeze my eyes shut to soothe the pain growing in my temples. I rub my eyes with my hand and blink a few times as the ringing settles.