Now or Never

Chapter Eleven

TW// SEXUAL ASSAULT

Rather than dreaming of Abnegation again, it's replaced by a memory I've tried so hard to push away from my initiation year.

When I was treated the same way as Tris.

It was a few weeks after the ceremony; it felt like my life was finally coming together, under the circumstances of finding out Evelyn Eaton was still alive and there was a newborn plan Dauntless and Erudite were brewing behind closed doors.

I felt like I had it all; a boy who loved me, friends who actually enjoyed my company, a job I was doing well in- but it seemed a little too ordinary. Like one day, the walls would come falling down on top of me.

And it did. Once.

I was roaming the halls of our compound after dark, most of the members were asleep but after a day of reading, I couldn't dare to close my eyes. All I could picture were the people printed in books- ones who needed help, but were found too late.

"I have to help them, I need to help them," I repeated to myself endlessly.

Somehow I found myself in a new hallway; one I haven't ventured to yet with only a few doors on either side. Four lights spaced out on the ceiling. There was an eerie feeling this time of night, especially with no echo of people in the distance like how you'd normally hear from the Pit.

"Oh, hello," a slurring voice called from behind me.

I jump a bit by the surprise, but turn to see who's greeting me. Whoever it is stands on the other side of the shining light; I can faintly make out the outline of their body, the shine reflecting off a string of piercings. A wicked smile.

"Hello," I keep a calm voice, not showing how nervous I'm feeling. Especially after a whiff of hard alcohol fills my lungs, mixed with the earth making the halls of Dauntless.

"Why are you up, Stiff? Eaton's not pleasuring you enough these days?" Eric. Of course out of the entire compound, he's the one who follows me.

I should be more shocked to hear someone call Tobias by his name, but I'm not. "I'm sorry, do the Erudite-trash own these halls now?"

Snickering echoes from where he stands, a shuffling foot kicks the ground when he walks under the light. "Can't we just be friends, Mal? Call a truce, perhaps?"

I mock a snickering of my own. "I would never try to call a truce with you. You don't deserve anything from me."

He takes a few steps closer, I hear the bottle emptying into his mouth. "How about I promise to stop bothering you if you do me a little favor?"

This is my chance to run, but he'd easily catch me. My better chance is to let him come close enough for me to hurt him enough to get a longer head start.

"What sort of favor?" My voice lowers, my hands ball into fists. I begin to feel the sizzle of rage bubbling in the pit of my stomach.

Eric stands only a few feet away from me now. I can't see much of him, but his piercings rattle as he walks; the bottle clinking against what I'm assuming is the buckle to his belt. "Show me what Four gets to see every night."

"What makes you think he gets to see anything?" I take a step backward.

"It was just a guess, Stiff. But I'll gladly break you in before that boyfriend of yours does," he chuckles devilishly.

When I see my chance, I send a punch into his shoulder and knee him in his groin. As he makes a sound of weakness, I take off running from where we both came from.

I'm not sure where I'm going, I walked aimlessly to get here, but I just run as fast as I can to anything familiar.

But apparently my plan wasn't good enough.

"You think you're so slick," Eric grabs me by the waist and pulls me to an abrupt stop. I would've fallen over if it weren't for his large arms, he feels stickier from sweat compared to Tobias.

"Get off me!" I yell, but he cups a hand over my mouth. I elbow him as hard as I can, kicking his feet and punching his thighs, but it's all useless.

"Just relax," he whispers next to my ear. With his free hand, he skims my stomach but starts slithering towards my chest.

I groan angrily into his hand when he feels me up. I keep punching as hard as I can manage from this angle but he still doesn't budge.

"Gotta admit," he brings his hand down, "he doesn't deserve someone with this sort of body. I might actually be jealous of him for once."

Now with ringing in my ears, a new sort of rage fills within me; I bite down on his hand until I taste the iron of blood. Just as his grip loosens, I step out of his space to face him.

"What did I say," I yell, pushing him against the wall into a chokehold, "about no touching." I watch him struggle, but it doesn't last for long.

He pushes me by my shoulders against the other wall, leaving a handprint of blood on my shirt. A punch smacks into my face, another on my nose and stomach.

I groan in pain but manage to stay upright. I've been through worse, especially by him.

"It wasn't a difficult request," he adds pressure to my shoulder, holding me against the wall. I aim towards his legs, kicking my way out.

It takes multiple hits for him to get to the ground, letting out a moan with a kick to the stomach.

"You are a waste," I yell at him, punching him as hard as I can in his face. His hands keep trying to pull me off, but I keep my ground.

Maybe it's from the adrenaline, or that I feel lightheaded, but a flicker of my father replaces the face I keep smacking into. A smirking mask watches me.

"Never touch me," I repeat over and over, sending punch after punch. But it doesn't feel like enough.

All I can see is my father now, the image of him riling me up. Tears start to blur my vision, but I take the beaten Eric by the neck and start slamming his head into the ground. "Never again, never again," I cry out.

He scratches into me, pulling at my hair, gripping my sides, but I still bring his head up and down as he yells in agony.

"You're a monster, a filthy coward," I cry again.

"Hey!" Someone yells from the end of the hallway. I look up to find two figures running towards us.

"Mal, let him go," the voice belongs to Zeke. He must've seen from the monitors.

He has to pry my fists away from Eric's shirt and neck, the boy on the ground unconscious. Partly because I don't want to stop, partly because I can't seem to let go.

I did that, I think to myself.

Zeke leaves the guard to handle Eric, dragging me to somewhere with light. We weren't that far from the Pit. I was so close to freedom.

"Are you okay? I didn't see much of the fight, but I left as soon as I saw you get punched." Zeke has concern written all over his face.

As soon as he mentions it, an ache from my eye makes me twitch. "I'm fine," I lie, "can you promise me you won't tell anyone? Please?"

He tries to read me, trying to figure out what to do. But all he does is nod. "Do you need an escort back to your apartment?"

I shake my head. "That's okay. Thank you for stopping me."

On the way back to my home, I stare down at my hands. One of them throbbing with bruised knuckles while the other is covered in blood. My own blood.

I try to push out the images from my head. The groping, my father, how Eric was that close to me.

"Never again," I mumble to myself, "never again."