❝ I knew, from that moment on,
that nobody could ever confess,
they love me, without the splintered thought of you
running through my mind.
Consciously or not, my soul will always be tangled
with you. ❝
Aurora Matthews, the daughter of Jeanine Matt...
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After dinner, Four disappears without a word. Eric leads us down a series of hallways without telling us where we're going. I don't know why a Dauntless leader would be responsible for a group of initiates, but maybe it is just for tonight.
At the end of each hallway is a blue lamp, but between them it's dark, Sarai walks beside me in silence. No one told us to be quiet, but none of us spoke.
Eric stops in front of a wooden door and folds his arms. We gather around him.
"For those of you who don't know, my name is Eric," he says. "I am one of five leaders of the Dauntless. We take the initiation process very seriously here, so I volunteered to oversee most of your training."
The thought makes me nauseous. The idea that a Dauntless leader will oversee our initiation is bad enough, but the fact that it's Eric makes it seem even worse.
"Some ground rules," he says. "You must be in the training room by eight o'clock every day. Training takes place every day from eight to six, with a break for lunch. You are free to do whatever you like after six. You will also get some time off between each stage of initiation."
The phrase "do whatever you like" sticks in my mind. At home, I could never do what I wanted, not even for an evening.
"You are only permitted to leave the compound when accompanied by a Dauntless," Eric adds. "You will notice that there are ten beds and only nine of you. We anticipated that a higher proportion of you would make it this far."
"But we started with twelve," protests Sarai. I close my eyes and wait for the reprimand. She needs to learn to stay quiet.
"There is always at least one transfer who doesn't make it to the compound," says Eric, picking at his cuticles. He shrugs. "Anyway, in the first stage of initiation, we keep transfers and Dauntless-born initiates separate, but that doesn't mean you are evaluated separately. At the end of initiation, your rankings will be determined in comparison with the Dauntless-born initiates. And they are better than you are already. So, I expect—"
"Rankings?" asks the mousy-haired abnegation girl to my right. "Why are we ranked?"
Eric smiles, and in the blue light, his smile looks wicked, like it was cut into his face with a knife.
"Your ranking serves a purpose," he says. "The first is that it determines the order in which you will select a job after initiation. There are only a few desirable positions available."
My stomach tightens. I know by looking at his smile, like I knew the second I entered the aptitude test room, that something bad is about to happen.
I lie in bed and listen to nine people breathing.
I have never slept in the same room as a boy before, but here I have no other option, unless I want to sleep in the hallway. Everyone else changed into the clothes the Dauntless provided for us.
It doesn't matter that the next time I see my mum or brother, on Visiting Day, they will barely recognize me —if they come at all. It doesn't matter.
A strangled sound interrupts the silence flooding in the room, followed by a heavy sob. Bed springs squeal as a large body turns, and a pillow muffles the sobs, but not enough. They come from the bunk next to mine— they belong to a Candor boy, Al, the largest and broadest of all the initiates. He is the last person I expected to break down.
His feet are just inches from my head. I should comfort him- I learnt that it releases stress hormones to help a person overwhelmed relax. Instead, I remain in my place. I am here for me, and only me.
If my mother knew what I was thinking, I know what look she would give me. The corners of her mouth turned up. Her eyebrows set higher over her eyes—not happy, almost pleased.
Al sobs again. I almost feel the sound grate in my own throat. He is just inches away from me—I should touch him.
No. I put my hand down and rolled onto my side, facing the wall. My eyes shut and I feel the pull of sleep, but every time I come close, I hear Al again.
My problem might be that even if I did go home, I wouldn't belong there, among people who give without thinking and care without trying.
The thought makes me grit my teeth. I gather the pillow around my ears to block out Al's crying and fall asleep.
