Flower Child

Chapter Twenty Six

Four doesn't let me go back to the dorms that night. It would be stupid to go sleep in a room full of my attackers. So he lets me sleep on his bed as he sleeps on the floor next to me.
When his breathing had fallen into a steady rhythm I turned over on my side and looked down at him. He sleeps on his stomach, one arm around his head. He looks his age when he sleeps. I wonder who he really is, beyond the scary Dauntless instructor that I see him as. Beyond Four. He told me not to call him that, so who is he, I want to know more than just his name, his real name.
I want the story. Back in Amity I had loved stories, I would read books from the school library, I would listen to the scary stories told around the bonfires. That's all we are though, our lives are our stories, we write them and tell them so that we can be remembered once we're gone.
He has a story, I fall asleep trying to guess what it is.

When I wake up the next morning I'm in pain and Four isn't on the floor anymore. It's an effort to get up. I shuffle over to the mirror on the wall and I'm met with exactly what I thought I'd look like. I have a large bruise on my left cheek and a small cut on my temple.
The bathroom door open and Four walks out with a towel in his hand and his hair glistening with water. My eyes fall on the hem of his shirt as it lifts up with his arms as he brings the towel to his hair. It exposes a strip of skin above his belt. God, why I am I such a mess.
I pry my eyes away from it and towards his eyes, which, to my mortification, are already on me.
"Hey," I whisper, my voice a lot weaker than I hoped it would sound.
He lifts his hand to my face and his fingers brush over my cheek, "not bad. How's your head?"
In, out, breathe, "pounding, but I'll be fine."
I'm grateful for the pain, it reminds me that I'm not floating face down in a river right now.
His hand trails down to my side where I was kicked. Breathe, Mor, breathe. It seems more difficult than usual. His hand rest on my side casually but I feel like the touch might make me combust.
"And your side?" Is his voice lower than normal?
"It hurts to breathe."
He smiles, "not much you can do about that."
"Peter would probably throw a party if I stopped breathing."
"Well, if it makes you feel any better," he says, "I would only go if there was cake."
I laugh despite the ache it sends across my body. I wince and cover his hand that still rests on my side. He slowly pulls his hand back and I almost wish he didn't.
He nods to himself and lead the way out. I almost wish I didn't have to go and do this, to pretend to be weak so that they'll leave me alone. I follow him anyway.
When we reach the doors to the dining hall we stop and he turns to me, "I'll go in first. See you soon."
He pushes through the doors and I'm left alone. I'm dreading going through those doors, not because I'm scared I'll see them, or that they'll kill me on the spot. I don't want them to see me like this, to let them believe I'm weak, that I'm the Amity girl that they all thought I would be. I've fought so hard to prove them wrong, but now my life depends on being that girl.
I push open the doors only slightly, putting on my facade as soon as I do. I keep my head lowered, my pace slow. Uriah is alone today, Mar and Lynn aren't around. He sits at the table next to Will, Christina, and Tris. Looks like they made up.
When Uriah sees me he waves but then his face falls upon further inspection of me. As I get closer to him he stands up.
"What happened," he asks, grabbing my arm and helping me to the table.
I sit down next to Will and Uriah sits down next to me.
"Mor," Uriah persists, "what happened?"
I glance over my shoulder at Peter's table. He's with Molly and they whisper to each other. Drew is nowhere to be found. I wish I could stand up and make Peter join him, maybe even Molly too.
I force myself to look back at the table, "Peter, Drew and.... and Al."
"Oh god," Chris gasps.
"I'll kill him," Uriah growls and starts to stand up.
I grab his arm and pull him down wincing in pain. I wish I could let him, but I will not have Uriah fighting my battles for me. I'm willing to let myself look weak, but I will not sit back and have him fight on my behalf.
"Are you ok," Tris asks.
Tears well in my eyes, "not really."
"It isn't fair," Uriah says, "three against one?"
"Yeah, and Peter is all about what's fair. That's why he grabbed Edward in his sleep and stabbed him in the eye," Chris snorts but then turns to me with a serious look, "but Al? Are you sure it was him, Mor?"
I want to snap at her but I don't, "I saw him, Chris. He's the one that held his hand over my mouth so no one would hear my screams."
Uriah takes my hand in his and squeezes it.
"It has to be desperation," Will says, "he's been acting, I don't know, like a different person. Ever since stage two started."
The doors open and Drew shuffles in. I almost fall out of my seat when I see him. His face is swollen, purple, almost unrecognizable. His lip is split and he has a cut on his brow. His eyes are downcast the entire walk to his table. I glance across the room at Four, he wears a satisfied smile and I wish I could smile with him.
"Did you do that," Will hisses.
I shake my head, "no. Someone, I didn't see who, found me right before they... threw me into the chasm."
"They were going to kill you," Christina asks, her voice low.
"Maybe," I shrug, "or maybe they were just trying to scare me, if that's the case... it- it worked."
Christina gives me a pitiful look and I want tell her to stop. I don't want her pity, I don't want, or need anyone's pity. But I do, I do need their pity because it's the only thing that might keep me alive.
"We have to do something," Uriah growls.
"Like what," Tris asks, "beat them up. It looks like that's already been done for us."
Uriah shakes his head, "no, that's something they can get over. They need to suffer for what they did."
"Transfers," Four says, "we're doing something different today. Follow me."
I push myself to my feet and Uriah stands up with me, keeping a steadying hand on my arm.
"Be careful, please," he whispers, his eyes full of worry.
Will grabs my arm gently, "don't worry, we'll watch after her."
Uriah eyes him up and down, "you better. I'll see you at lunch, Mor."
Uriah's concern for me is sweet, I wish he didn't have to worry about me though, I wish I could tell him that I'm still strong, that I'm not weak, but I can't.
We follow Four as we go up, and up, and up. We're going farther up than I ever have in the pit. Next to me, Will begins to pale. I grab his arm, pretending like I need his support even though the height doesn't bother me. He smiles at me gratefully.
Four turns around and walks up the steps, backward. He's walking backward on a narrow path with no railing, even with his fear of heights.
He eyes Drew who is in the back of the group, hardly keeping up with us.
"Pick up the pace, Drew," Four shouts, a small smile on his lips.
I have to fight away my smile at the cruel joke. His eyes fall on me, on my arm wrapped around Will's, and the humor falls from his eyes. The expression sends a weird sensation through me. He almost seems, jealous?
We climb towards the glass ceiling. Four leads us up a metal staircase that creak beneath his feet. I look down at the bottom of the pit as I climb up it.
We now walk across the glass, a floor beneath our feet instead of a ceiling above our heads. Through the glass walls I can see the crumbling buildings around us. No wonder Dauntless is so hard to find.
Their are members milling around the room. Some are fighting with wooden sticks, others are talking and laughing in small groups.
Four leads us through a door and into a room with graffitied walls and exposed pipes. The room is lit by old looking fluorescent lights.
"This," Four says, turning towards us, "is a different kind of simulation known as the fear landscape. It has been disabled for our purposes, so this isn't what it will be like the next time you see it."
My eyes trail around the room. Dauntless, is spray painted on the wall behind him in red.
"Through your simulations, we have stored data about your worst fears. The fear landscape accesses that data and presents you with a series of virtual obstacles. Some of the obstacles will be fears you previously faced in your simulations. Some may be new fears. The difference is that you are aware, in the fear landscape, that it is a simulation, so you will have all your wits about you as you go through it."
I don't know whether the fact that everyone will be like Divergents is comforting or not.
Four continues, "the number of fears you have in your landscape varies according to how many you have."
I'd only been through three of my fears, will I have more?
"I told you before that the third stage of initiation focuses on mental preparation," he says, scanning the crowd.
I remember it clearly. He said on the first day of training, right before putting a loaded gun against Peter's head.
"That is because it requires you to control both your emotions and your body. To combine the physical abilities you learned in stage one with the emotional mastery you learned in stage two. To keep a level head," he explains.
His eyes stop moving across the crowd and settle on me.
"Next week you will go through your fear landscape as quickly as possible in front of a panel of Dauntless leaders. That will be your final test, which determines your ranking for stage three. Just like stage two of initiation is weighted more heavily than stage one, stage three is weighted heaviest of all. Understood?"
I nod, we all do. It's almost over, all I have to do is do well in my final test and make it into the top ten. I'll be Dauntless, I'll be safe.
"You can get past each obstacle in one of two ways. Either you find a way to calm down enough that the simulation registers a normal, steady heartbeat, or you find a way to face your fear, which can force the simulation to move on. One way to face a fear of drowning is to swim deeper, for example," he explains, "so I suggest you take the next week to consider your fears and develop strategies to face them."
"That doesn't sound fair," Peter says, "what if one person only has seven fears and someone else has twenty? That's not their fault."
Four's eyes are narrowed as he stares at Peter for an uncomfortable amount of time and then he laughs, "are you really trying to talk to me about what's fair?"
The crowd parts quickly as Four stalks towards Peter, folds his arms over his chest and says in a deep, deadly voice, "though I understand why you're worried, Peter. The events of last night have proven that you're a miserable coward."
Peter's face stays neutral but his eyes are on fire.
"But now we all know," Four smirks, "that you're afraid of a skinny girl from Amity."
I can't help the smile that finds itself on my lips. Four looks back at me for a single second and I hope he could read the thanks in my eyes.

When we walk into the dorm that afternoon, Al is there. My friends instantly make a small circle around me when they see him.
   "Mor," he says, his voice rough and his face red from crying, "can I talk to you?"
   "Are you kidding," Will asks, holding my shoulders as if I'll slip away, "you don't get to even look at her, let alone talk to her ever again!"
   "I never wanted to hurt you," Al says, covering his face with his hands, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me, I- please forgive me."
   The Amity girl in me wants to forgive him. To see that he's struggling and needs help. I should, but I can't, not yet. I need time to heal, and if I forgive him now, I don't know if I ever will.
   "Get away from me," I say lowly, "what you did was cowardly. Maybe I'll find it in me to forgive you one day, but right now, if you come near, I very well might kill you."
   Our eyes meet. His eyes are dark and filled with tears. Mine are opposite, they're filled with tears, but I know they're on fire, they dare him to say anything, he won't. He won't because he is a coward.