❝ I knew, from that moment on,
that nobody could ever confess,
they love me, without the splintered thought of you
running through my mind.
Consciously or not, my soul will always be tangled
with you. ❝
Aurora Matthews, the daughter of Jeanine Matt...
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As far as I can tell, the second stage of initiation involves sitting in a dark hallway with the other initiates, wondering what's going to happen behind a closed door.
I don't even think I know my worst fears.
I hear only muttering from the room at the end of the hallway, and I suspect this is another part of the game they like to play with us. Terrifying us at every opportunity.
The door opens, looking up from where I sat, Molly was being held by two other people as she is muttering to herself.
"What did they do to her?" Sarai asks.
Four looks out from the door, looking around before he lands his eyes to me, "Quinn."
I stand, and walk past the other initiates. Drew sticks out his leg to trip me, but I hop over it at the last second.
Four touches my shoulder to guide me into the room and closes the door behind me.
When I see what's inside, I recoil immediately, my shoulders hitting his chest.
In the room is a reclining metal chair, like the one I sat in during the aptitude test. Beside it is a familiar machine. This room has no mirrors and barely any light. There is a computer screen on a desk in the corner.
"Take a seat," Four says.
He walks over to the machine and picks up a huge needle.
"I'm going to inject you with a serum that stimulates the part of your brain that processes fear."
"Great." I huffed, trying to remember what Hunter said previously as I attempted to relax against the seat.
"It induces a hallucination, and then transmitters in the serum, allowing me to see the image in your mind" He continues.
Despite us Erudites being the ones to create this serum, I never recalled a time in which it enabled others to see what was going on inside our brains.
"You can see inside my mind?" I questioned.
"Mhm-hmm." He stares blankly at me.
Walking over to me he uses his arms to push my shoulders back against the chair. "Lean back." He whispers.
I touch a wavering hand to my forehead. Simulations aren't real; they pose no real threat to me, so logically, I shouldn't be afraid of them, but my reaction is visceral. It takes all the willpower I have for me to steer myself toward the chair and sit down in it again, pressing my skull into the headrest. The cold from the metal seeps through my clothes.
"Do you ever administer the aptitude tests?" I say. He seems qualified.
"No," he replies. "I avoid Stiffs as much as possible."
I don't know why someone would avoid the Abnegation. The Dauntless or the Candor, maybe, because bravery and honesty make people do strange things, but the Abnegation?
