The Fourth Eaton

Chapter 22 🔪 Stupidity

A/N: Hello again! So, I'm back very soon with another chapter... I mean, I'm trying to update frequently, but, by doing so, I'm putting off everything else, so I don't know how long I can keep up these frequent updates. But I'll do it as long as I can.

Anyways, I present to you, Chapter 22!

Jab. Front kick. Cross punch. Knee. Hook. Roundhouse kick. Uppercut. Side kick.

I methodically hit the bag, using the techniques taught to us in the first stage of training. My muscles burn, but it feels good. It makes me feel powerful, alive.

I'm technically not supposed to be in the training room when we're not, well, training, as I'm still an initiate, but I know Tobias won't tell on me, if he's the one to find me. If it isn't Tobias, well, I'm probably screwed.

It's a stupid rule anyway; why would they try and restrict their initiates from using their free time to further their combat skills? Maybe if combat training in our free time was allowed, Sadie could have become better at fighting. Maybe she wouldn't have gotten kicked out, and Aiden wouldn't have a forlorn, heartbroken expression on his face every day, while sitting in the hall, waiting for our turn to go through the sims.

Jab. Front kick. Cross punch. Knee. Hook. Roundhouse kick. Uppercut. Side kick.

I've gotten stronger since I first joined Dauntless. Don't get me wrong, I'm almost certain that I was already stronger than the average Abnegation. Hours upon hours of volunteering in the sorting center does that to you. It may have killed my freshly-beaten back every time, but it ended up being worth it. Third in the first stage is probably more than anyone ever expected of an Abnegation transfer. The other factions underestimate us, or, at least, the ones who choose to leave. But I don't really blame them.

Jab. Front kick. Cross punch. Knee. Hook. Roundhouse kick. Uppercut. Side kick.

Sometimes, I look around, and I still find myself in awe at my surroundings. After sixteen years of gray walls and bland food and lowered heads and Marcus in all their glory, I'm out. If I make it through the simulations and the final exam, then I'll be Dauntless. I'll be one of the black-clothed, tattooed, brave people that always used to look untouchable to my younger self.

I always believed that the Dauntless were fearless, but now, the idea feels laughable. How can the Dauntless be fearless when I see initiates, transfers and Dauntless-borns alike, glance around in alarm every several seconds, shift uneasily at loud sounds and sudden movements, or wake up in the middle of the night screaming and crying, on the daily?

How can the Dauntless be fearless when I, a Dauntless initiate, am still too scared to face my greatest nightmare?

The Dauntless aren't fearless. The Dauntless are simply better than everyone else at keeping their fear in check.

Jab. Front kick. Cross punch. Knee. Hook. Roundhouse kick. Uppercut. Side kick.

I have gotten to know fear quite intimately these past few days.

It's been another four days, with four new fears. Thankfully, Marcus never appeared again in any of them. Instead, I got quicksand (which Tobias said was less about the quicksand and more about losing control), bugs (Tobias was laughing his head off about it in our Chasm meeting that night, at least until I mentioned his fear of heights), ranking too low and getting thrown out of Dauntless (that one really shook me, because it was a real possibility), and confinement.

Now, fear permeates the air around all of the initiates. Because each and every initiate thought they knew fear, and they all thought wrong.

Tobias said that my simulation times, excepting the second one, were really good, and he expects me to rank high. And, the fact that I showed no signs of divergence, combined with my lack of fear-induced behavioral changes compared to the other initiates, could make the Dauntless leaders and Jeanine Matthews believe that I'm actually just really brave, not Divergent.