Divergent Writing Contest

The Choosing Ceremony

I flinch at every single name called out, waiting in anticipation for mine to finally ring through the air. My heart pounds, my palms sweat, and my I fail to breathe properly, taking huge gasps of air every so often. My closest friend, Ali, notices, and she comfortingly places her hand on my knee in an attempt to calm me, squeezing softly. I instantly relax, smiling at her, mouthing a quiet, "Thank you."

I take in her soft features for what I believe is the last time, smiling subconsciously when I rest my eyes on her golden blonde hair, which I've always been jealous of. I made my decision long ago; I don't belong in Amity. My thirst for knowledge is too great to resist, and I struggle daily to remain as peaceful as my other faction members are.

"Layla Raine," my name is lazily called out by an announcer. Hot tears flood my eyes as I take Ali's warm hand in mine, clinging on tightly. I stand up, slowly dragging myself away from her. She simply gives me a reassuring smile, whispering, "I'll see you later." I have to choke back tears as I head to the bowls, digging my nails into my palm to focus.

My vision clouded by unshed tears, I continue to walk, looking around every so often. I glance at my parents, who are in the back, holding hands, gazing at me lovingly. Overwhelming guilt floods my being, and I begin to panic, second guessing my initial choice.

I should stay in Amity. My closest friends are there. My family is there. There's really no reason for me to want to switch factions. I'm just going through a phase right now, and as soon as it passes, I'll be glad I stayed in Amity, I shamelessly lie to myself.

I aero to the center of the stage, and I'm handed a sharp, silver blade. Closing my eyes, I drag the knife across my left palm, taking comfort in the sharp and sudden pain. Flexing my hand, I stare transfixed at the crimson drops falling from my wound. The placement of where I let one fall determines the outcome of my life, I think , suddenly finding the entire process to be incredibly stupid.

I outstretch my arm over the bowls, careful as to not accidentally spill my blood over the wrong one. I let my instincts take over, and I look away, terrified to see what I've chosen.

I hold my breath, dead silence filling the room. The only thing I'm able to hear is the soft splash of my blood falling into the Erudite bowl.