The Other Side of the War (Tobias Eaton X OC)

Chapter 22

"If I threw it all away, would I still have you?"

STORM'S UPPER BODY FLUNG UPWARDS with a loud gasp. Her desperate pants filled the room as a hundred voices echoed in her brain. Her breathing came out shaky, worn, and she gasped for air, her lungs never quite filling. She brought her knees to her chest and cradled herself back and forth. Another nightmare. She had been used to them at this point but this one was different. It took all her worst memories and put them together into one awful dream. Storm attempted to focus on her breathing but every image played in her head all over again. It was like she never even woke up from the nightmare in the first place.

The pitch black dorm room did not offer any sort of comfort to Storm; even as a child she never liked the dark. She muted her heavy pants against a pillow in a desperate attempt not to wake anybody up. Every single one of her senses felt muffled, as if she was totally submerged underwater. 

She eventually managed to push herself out of her bed. Storm's legs shook as she slowly limped her way over to the bathroom. By now her breathing had returned to normal, her time to be weak was up. Storm turned on the faucett and cupped the water in her hand. She splashed it on her face multiple times to snap her back into reality. It was a cold wake up call. Once she was done she placed her hands on either side of the skink and stared her reflection down . It was like she was staring at an alternate version of herself. She was being frail and Storm absolutely despised herself for it.

Storm glared at the mirror with pure hatred. The rage bubbled in her body until it was too much to handle. She quietly headed back towards her bed while pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail. Storm slipped off the large shirt she wore to bed; she replaced that with black cargo pants, a tight tank top, and a leather jacket that included a gray hood.

Her eyes gazed over to the only clock in the room: 5:02 AM.

Lately, most of Storm's days started like this. It had almost become like a routine. Though this time, the nightmare felt far too real. She couldn't wipe away the image of Ember's dead, bloody body from her mind. Who knows what happened to her after Storm dropped her off with the factionless? They could have killed her on the spot. And it would be her fault. 

Though there was one thing she knew for sure: Ember wouldn't want her to live like this.

Storm left the dorms in a hurry; she wanted to get to the cafeteria before too many people woke up. Undoing her ponytail, she tucked her wavy, tangled hair in her hood as she walked with urgency. There was hardly anyone up in dauntless at five AM. Most woke up around seven; that's when training typically started.

Since the beginning of initiation, Storm's opinion of the dauntless cafeteria had not changed. It was far too loud and full of people she couldn't stand; yet, there was something peaceful about the lunchroom during the early morning hours. It was inhabited by very few people, and most of those were silent. It offered Storm fleeting and insignificant moments of peace, but peace nonetheless.

Her arms ached as she reached for a muffin. Every little thing seemed to hurt these days. 

Storm headed towards her table and quietly sat down. Today, she would focus on mental training rather than physical. She was determined to improve her times, no matter the means or the cost. Second place was simply not good enough for her. Not only for the rank, but purely for herself. Storm needed to overcome the fears that plagued her every waking moment. She would no longer allow herself to be a coward.

She only had a few peaceful moments to eat before she spotted him from across the room. Storm knew that she needed his help, even if it would kill her to ask. It was time to push her pride aside and accept his help; that is, if he was even still offering it.