3 - Suicide

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* * *

"If there is anything

I'm guilty of,

It's loving you too much."

* * *

|| T R I S

Four and Eric have been acting stranger than normal.

Both are constantly on edge, like the presence of the other is a sign of threat. I don't understand what's going on with the two instructors, but I intend to.

"Four," I say, voice barely above a whisper, "Are you okay?"

Four raises an eyebrow at my question. His eyes are hard, focused, and calculating, and when he speaks, a frown settles on my face. "I don't need anyone asking me about my feelings, initiate. Go back to training."

In the back of my head, I know that I won't be able to get anything out of Four that easily. He is the most complex person I've ever met.

"Initiates, gather around!"

This time, it's Eric who commands us with an air of pride, and immediately, we do as he says. We anxiously stand around a black square mat, already knowing what it's for.

"Tris," Eric's eyes glint mischievously. He purposely did not call me by my moniker, Stiff. "Up you go with Molly. It's time to fight."

I'm shaking. We started physical straining three days ago, and I am nowhere near prepared for this.

Molly, a big-bodied ex-Candor that can easily beat me to a pulp, smirks as she makes her way to the mat. I hesitantly step forward, feeling my heart thump faster each passing second. My eyes connect with Four's, and I see them flash.

"The fight stops when I say it stops." Eric declares, and I unconsciously form my hands into fists.

"Or when one of you concedes." It's Four who saves me from Eric once again.

I watch as Eric glares at Four, arms crossed in an intimidating manner, "That's the old rule. New rule, no one concedes."

There is a heated exchange of inaudible words between the two, and soon, Eric is fisting Four's shirt in his hand, a wild look painted on his features. His hand is halfway towards the latter's face when the doors to the training room open, and she arrives.

The girl I saw with Eric on my first day. The girl with a sweet smile to contrast Eric's dark frowns. The girl who makes all the world stop, and catch every person's attention.

Even Four's.

I watch as her eyes travel to Eric, then to his hand, then to Four's blank face. She brings her eyes back to Eric, and the hot-headed man lets out a loud grunt before pushing Four away from him. The fact that she stopped a would-be bloody fight with just one look is beyond my capability of understanding.

She says nothing. Eric crosses his arms once again, then he bellows in a much calmer tone of voice, "Everyone is dismissed. Training will resume at one."

It doesn't take us another second to go out of the training room. The air feels lighter outside since the heavy tension is gone.

I take back my previous thought. Four isn't the most complex person I have ever met, it is Anika.

...  

|| E R I C

It's the disapproval in her eyes that makes my resolve crumble.

"You know you're already hurting." Her sharp tone makes me wince, "Why do you always feel the need to give yourself more pain, Eric? What if because of your petty fights with Four, your wound worsens?"

"I'm not a child." I state it loudly, but my eyes don't dare to meet hers.

"I'm not saying you are." The sound of her footsteps echo throughout the empty room. I feel her hands on my cheeks, tilting my head towards her direction. I look into her eyes, a mix of the most beautiful shades of green combined, and just like that, I cave in.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, "I wasn't thinking. The Stiff riled me up again and I just wanted to teach her not to mess—"

"You don't beat initiates."

"I'm making them stronger."

"That's what you think," A small smile spreads across her lips, "You're a soldier, Eric. Probably the best fighter in all of Dauntless. Fights mean nothing to you, you get through them so easily,  but those same fights mean so much more for those initiates. Their chances of getting into Dauntless depend on those fights."

I feel the weight of her words sink into my head, and my mind feels lighter. "Right. I-I... I won't do it again."

"Acceptance," she whispers, patting my cheek, " Is part of strengthening one's self. You're doing good, Eric. Stop being the man they want you to be."

I give her a small smile, and she grants me one back. "Let's get the lunch you promised me, shall we?"

...  

The fact that he is doubting me makes me want to throw something against the wall. Why is he even thinking of sending another person to lead the sweep? I've been leading sweeps since I first became a leader. Six fucking years of experience he's more than willing to throw away for Four to have a go?

"Max, I am perfectly capable of leading this op—"

"It's better if Four leads the next sweep, Eric. He needs the exposure."

"No fucking shit!" I laughed humourlessly, "Four can't do it. Fuck, he's never even patrolled with the group before."

"No. You aren't leading the op, Eric. Just—"

"Fucking damn it, Max. What the fuck do I—"

"It's because of that damn wound on your stomach!"

I freeze. His words are like bullets lodging themselves on my skin.

Funny. I have one inside me now.

"Fuck you, Max." I say in gritted teeth, "I'll take this fucking bullet out, and when I do, I will be leading that fucking sweep."

The door to his office is slammed so hard it made a dent on his wall.

...  

A/N

The story will be set in four POVs: Eric, Annie, Four and Tris. 

I feel like the story will be more 

beautiful if the readers see what they're seeing. 


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