Burning Sunflowers

Chapter 1

"How was the test?" My mother asks as a way of greeting as I step into our house, turning for a moment, both to remove my shoes and to hide the pain that I'm certain crosses my face.

"Fine," I say, lying. At least I know I'm not meant for Candor, I lie too easily for my own good. 

"Long but not bad." I finish, moving around her in our small kitchen. Despite our long lineage in our faction, we have one of the smaller houses in our area, my grandparents many years ago deciding to keep its original structure while the rest of Amity was slowly renovated. Our elbows touch as I wash my hands in the sink, moving to take over the cutting from her.

"Your day?" I ask, compulsory of children in Amity, tilting my head to catch a glimpse of her gently placing a pot filled with water onto the stove. Like most Amity women her age, her hair is as long as her torso and kept in a loose braid down her back. In times of celebration, flowers will be pinned into the grooves of the plat, only to fall out slowly throughout the day. It's times like this that I feel my eyes begin to water, my knees weaker than they should be. If I choose to leave, I will not only forsake my role as a member of my faction but as a viewer of our customs. No longer will I witness the festivals we have at harvest or run through fields of freshly planted crops. This section of my life would cease to exist.

A small sigh comes from her nose, distracting me from my self-pity, in the way she does when something troubles her. Though rare, I know the sign well enough by now.

"Can I help in any way?" I prod, half needing a distraction from the test results sinking in my stomach.

"Oh no," she replies, a calloused hand brushing my arm, moving to my hair slowly. The pattern that she traces over my skin is one of well-practiced skill, tracings made over and over through the years. "It's only that I worry for you. I always have before you kids' choosing days. I know I have nothing to fret over, or at least your dad likes to tell me so, and I should listen to him, considering he's yet to be wrong." She finishes, the guilt in my gut only increasing. I can only offer a stiff nod.

"Here," she removes the knife from my hand, "Go get washed up and relax for a bit, you need time to think without your mother over your shoulder."

Again, I send a nod in her direction, letting her kiss my cheek as I turn, feeling like an intruder in my own home. 

"Thank you."

+ + +

I wake up to a wet shirt, cold sweat coating my body and a singular word on my tongue. 

Dauntless.

I reach under my pillow for the source of the noise that woke me from my dreams. Or rather nightmares.  My night was plagued by visions of my family in varying stages of harm, all by my doing. The images feel burned in my mind. 

Clutching the watch in my hands I stare at its face, not caring of the time- since it's always the same; 4:15- I watch my reflection in the tarnished glass. My hair spirals out of its bun in different directions, the barely-there curls I have somehow being tossed loose in my sleep. Instead of simply turning off the alarm as I do every other morning, I flip it over. With unsteady hands, I remove the batteries from its back, a hot commodity in Amity.

Having a reputation for living an "all-natural" lifestyle, the bulk of our power supply comes from the sun and wind, but the long, notoriously dreary spring seems to play a cruel trick on our systems. Poorer families without their own power setups find themselves lacking. That makes these batteries all the more of a necessity.