Agents of the Forgotten Faction

|Chapter 17|

I breath in through my nose. In, out. In.

"It's just a simulation, Tris," Four says quietly.

He's wrong. The last simulation bled into my life, waking and sleeping. Nightmares, not just featuring the crows but the feelings I had in the simulation-terror and helplessness, which I suspect is what I am really afraid of. Sudden fits of terror in the shower, at breakfast, on the way here. Over the past few days my counsellor Jane has been communicating with me through the ear piece. Without her I will probably end up like all the rest of the initiates.

I am in darkness. The last thing I remember is the metal chair and the needle in my arm. This time there is no field; there are no crows. My heart pounds in anticipation. What monsters will creep from the darkness and steal my rationality? How long will I have to wait for them? A blue orb lights up a few feet ahead of me, and then another one, filling the room with light and I know the simulation has started. I am on the Pit floor, next to the chasm, and the initiates stand around me, their arms folded and their faces blank. I search for Christina and find her standing among them. None of them move. Their stillness makes my throat feel tight. I see something in front of me-my own faint reflection. I touch it, and my fingers find glass, cool and smooth. I look up. There is a pane above me; I am in a glass box. I press above my head to see if I can force the box open. It doesn't budge. I am sealed in. My heart beatsfaster. I don't want to be trapped. Someone taps on the wall in front of me. Four. He points at my feet, smirking. A few seconds ago, my feet were dry, but now I stand in half an inch of water, and my socks are soggy. I crouch to see where the water is coming from, but it seems to be coming from nowhere, rising up from the box's glass bottom. I look up at Four, and he shrugs. He joins the crowd of initiates. The water rises fast. It now covers my ankles. I pound against the glass with my fist.

"Hey!" I say. "Let me out of here!"

The water slides up my bare call vesas it rises, cool and soft. I hit the glass harder.

"Get me out of here!"

I stare at Christina. She leans over to Peter, who stands beside her, and whispers something in his ear. They both laugh. The water covers my thighs. I pound both fists against the glass. I'm not trying to get their attention anymore; I'm trying to break out. Frantic, I bang against the glass as hard as I can. I step back and throw my shoulder into the wall, once, twice, three times, four times. I hit the wall until my shoulder aches, screaming for help, watching the water rise to my waist, my rib cage, my chest.

"Help!" I scream. "Please! Please help!" I slap the glass. I will die in this tank. No find a way out. There is always a way out.

I drag my shaking hands through my hair. I see Will standing among the initiates, and something tickles at the back of my mind. Something he said. Come on, think. I stop trying to break the glass. It's hard to breathe, but I have to try. I'll need as much air as I can get in a few seconds. My body rises, weightless in the water. I float closer to the ceiling and tilt my head back as the water covers my chin. Gasping, I press my face to the glass above me, sucking in as much air as I can. Then the water covers me, sealing me into the box. Don't panic. Training always taught us to think of things that will trigger relaxation and happiness. So I picture my parents, my brother, my friends. I kick the glass as hard as I can, but the water slows down my foot. The simulation is all in your head. I scream, and water fills my mouth. If it's in my head, I control it. The water burns my eyes. The initiates' passive faces stare back at me. They don't care. I scream again and shove the wall with my palm. I hear something. A cracking sound. When I pull my hand away, there is a line in the glass. I slam my other hand next to the first and drive another crack through the glass, this one spreading outward from my palm in long, crooked fingers. My chest burns like I just swallowed fire. I kick the wall. My toes ache from the impact, and I hear a long, low groan. The pane shatters, and the force of the water against my back throws me forward. There is air again. I gasp and sit up. I'm in the chair. I gulp and shake out my hands. Four stands to my right, but instead of helping me up, he just looks at me.