Divergent: A Retelling

Dangerous Cowardice

The next day, I wake up with everyone else as the lights turn on. I momentarily forget about what happened last night. I pull on a pair of shorts and my shirt and tie up my boots. After breakfast, we all go to the training room as usual. I look at the board and my heart sinks into my stomach. I'm fighting Peter today. No no no no no no no. I can't fight him today. I'm still messed up from what happened yesterday at the fence. As Tris, Christina, Will and Al approach, they all look at me. I just keep staring at my name. "Don't worry, you're really good. You'll take him down within seconds." Says Al. I nod, not so sure. He's big, but not big enough to be slow. He's fast and strong. I mean, he took Drew down in less than five minutes, and Drew is built like a boulder.

Peter sees his name and winks at me. "'Bout time don't you think, sunshine?" He says. "Ignore him." Says Chrsitina, looking at Peter like she could burn him alive with one look. I swallow. I stand in front of the platform with everyone else. I keep stealing glances at Peter. He must know I'm not in the right mindset to fight. Which is exactly how he'll beat me. Before I know it, Eric calls our names. "Next fight, Peter and Townes."
My anxiety spikes. I step onto the platform, feeling like I'm going to throw up. I put my hair into a bun, and Peter steps on and smiles at me. I look into his eyes and see excitement. We both put our hands up to our faces. We begin to circle each other. I clench my jaw. He has a look of determination. I look him up and down, watching his stance. He takes a step forward, and my gut lurches. I step to the side as his fist comes flying at me. I kick his knee and it hits the ground with a thud. I swiftly connect my fist with the side of his head. His head goes down, but he gets up quickly, grabs my arm so I can't pull away and hits me in the mouth so hard I stumble back. I hear a collective groan. My lips throb and I feel a knocked tooth. I spit it on the floor with a glob of saliva and blood. I hear Christina exclaim in disgust. I wipe my hand over my mouth and rush towards him. I block a punch and bring my knee up to his side. He grunts in pain, but uses that as an opportunity to grab my leg and slam me on my back. I half scream, half yell out as he pins my wrists to the ground. He pulls back his fist and hits me once in the eye, then the jaw, each stinging more powerful than the last. He goes for another punch but I block it and twist his wrist so far and hard he shouts out and lets go of me to free his hand. I shove him off me and back away, standing up as I do. I keep my fists up by my face, breathing heavily, face throbbing. Peter looks at me dangerously and shakes out his wrist. He takes another step to hit me, but I swiftly dodge and get behind him. I kick the back of his knee, just like I did with Molly, and he folds backward, just like Molly. I quickly grab his shirt and twist it up until it chokes him. He grabs my hands, trying to free himself. After about ten seconds, he stands up and throws me over his shoulder and onto the ground. It knocks the wind out of me and I feel a painful knot begin to form between my shoulder and my spine. I scream out as he does the same thing to me, grabbing my shirt and twisting it around my neck. I writhe and fight until my shirt tears and I'm able to breathe again. I get away from Peter, now only in a sports bra, breathing heavily. "Knock her out already!" yells Molly from the crowd. I grit my teeth, my tongue licking the spot where my tooth came out, in the front right corner of my mouth. Blood and sweat is running down his face and his muscles are tense. He looks me up and down, amusement playing on his lips. Suddenly I feel self-conscious, this is just a game to him. We both lunge at the same time, blocking and throwing kicks and punches. Peter finally grabs my hair and tries to pull me to the ground, but I scream out and hook my foot around his leg and yank. He falls backwards.There are some whoops and hollers from the other initiates. We must be putting on a good show. He's on his feet before I can even sit up. He stumbles before kicking me. His misstep gives me enough time to start getting up, but it's too late. He kicks me in the side, repeatedly. Each kick feels like a cracked rib. At this rate, I will not pass out. This pain won't stop. I make a split second, costly, decision. I grab his leg and push him away from me and move back as far as I can before...