Fractured | Tobias Eaton ✓

21 | Sadistic is The Word

Today we're throwing knives. Unlike my lack of expertise with the handgun, I have a lot of practice with throwing knives. David managed to bring a set with him when he escaped Dauntless at the end of his initiation. He said he'd been the top of his class but couldn't bear the gore anymore.

I got pretty good with the throwing knives when he began teaching me. He wasn't too good with them but I liked them more than that wooden gun. There's a sour look on Eric's face and I'm sure it had to do with the loss of his team the night before. That makes me smile.

"Tomorrow will be the last day of stage one, you will resume fighting then. Today, you'll be learning how to aim. Everyone pick up three knives. And pay attention while Four demonstrates the correct technique for throwing them." When nobody makes a move for the table, he shouts at us, "Now!"

I get my hands on my trio first. They seem to be exactly the same as the ones David stole. I begin to toss them around in my hand, getting an idea of the weight. It's easy for me to watch Four as he demonstrates, I find my eyes drifting toward him all the time. I know it's some stupid crush on him just because he's shown me the slightest bit of attention, but I can't help it.

He's stupid pretty.

I stretch my arms out and bend down to touch my toes before even considering throwing the knives. Then I copy the stance I saw Four do, Tris has the same idea and I'm beginning to realize we are weirdly similar. But Four hit the bullseye each time so it only makes sense we imprinted the show of his skills onto our brains.

Eric seems to be a bit annoyed that we're ignoring the throwing aspect for practicing. "It's knife throwing, not knife sitting," Says Peter, and I shoot him a venomous glare.

"I think if you were at the end of that line right there, I'd have plenty of motivation, Petey." He scowls at me and I smirk back at him, I win this round.

I draw back my hand and whip the knife forward, it travels and lands on the target on my first try. I'm beginning to think I have an unfair advantage over my fellow initiates. But then again, this is a competition so it's good I'm excelling. I throw the next two and the last one lands dangerously close to the bullseye.

It takes me a full half-hour before I strike the center three times in a row. I smile proudly at my handiwork but keep at it until Eric chooses his next victim.

Al hasn't even made it to his target yet. His knives keep falling a few feet short and Eric's obviously noticed. "How slow are you, Candor? Do you need glasses? Should I move the target closer to you?" I use the knife to pick at some dirt under my nail as I watch Eric closely.

Albert turns beet red, trying to throw his knife again–to no avail.

"What was that, initiate?" Eric's invading Al's personal space as he answers quietly, "Well, I think you should go get it," this is when Eric notices the audience he has. "Did I tell you to stop?"

I ignore the blaring horns in my head and start throwing my knives again. Each one hits the board relatively close to the center. I've improved a lot already.

"Go get it? But everyone's still throwing." Al argues, Eric shakes his head–playing confused–"And I don't want to get hit."

Eric's smile is venomous, "I think you can trust your other initiates to aim better than you. Go get your knife." Al says no and Eric sees this as a challenge, "Why? Are you afraid?"

"Of getting stabbed by an airborne knife?" I glance over as I let another knife fly, I don't have to look to know I hit the board, "Yes, I am!" He admits. I won't lie, so am I. Stab wounds are no joke.

"Everyone stop!" Eric shouts. "Clear out of the ring, except you." He points at Al, eyes beady and evil. I don't like him at all. I carry the knife I had left with me, flipping it around as a distraction from the bullying happening before our eyes. "Stand in front of the target."