Digging Holes - A Divergent Fanfiction

I Don't Want to Die I Don't Want To

I wait for morning to arrive. I have got quite good at waiting; I have waited outside Jack Kang’s office, waited to be interrogated, and, many times, waited in this cell for whatever to happen happens.

Each one of these times, I have spent the majority of the time hoping that I’ll be all right.

This one is no different. Although I think I will survive, although I think Rose will save me, what if it doesn’t work? What if I do die? What if I do not die, but Rose does not remove me so I am shot upon escaping?

            I try to push these thoughts out of my mind. As a Candor member since birth, I have been discouraged from speculating about what could happen, since it is not the immediate truth. Reading is also not encouraged, but not really discouraged in the same way that speculation is. I have never been very good at stopping myself from doing either; maybe I would have been better off in Abnegation after all. Maybe I would have been safer there, like the woman who gave me my aptitude test suggested.

In what I assume is the morning, I am waken from my half-conscious state by a chunk of bread hitting my face.

            “It’d be bad to be executed on an empty stomach,” the guard who threw the bread smirks. I am glad when he leaves. I eat the bread hungrily.

            After an hour or so, I am escorted into a room not unlike the one Traugott questioned me in. This room is less bare; it has cabinets and drawers, and a few more seats. Jack Kang is sitting in one, and there are three more people who look like doctors. They are dressed in blue, so I assume they are from Erudite.

            I am strapped into a big chair in the middle. One of the doctors pushes a button, and the chair leans back so I am lying down.

            “Are you ready, Emra Veritine?” Jack Kang asks sternly.

            I shrug. ““To die will be an awfully big adventure.””

            He narrows his eyes. I am supposed to be discreet about my morning reading, and shouldn’t quote books if I can help it. He probably thinks I don’t care now, since I’m supposed to die.

            “It shouldn’t hurt, so don’t worry,” he continues.

            “How do you know?” I ask. “Has anybody told you what it’s like after they were executed?”

            My question is ignored.

            Another of the doctors picks up a syringe from a table behind him. I try to relax; I have heard that if you tense up before an injection it is more painful to press the needle in.

            I feel as the syringe is injected into my wrist.

            I must fight the serum.

I close my eyes. I remember what it is like to live. I remember how it feels to laugh and cry. How it feels to finally be able to ride a bicycle, or be able to use a swing without being pushed. I remember how I felt when my father died. I remember how I felt when my cousin was born. When I remember I try to make it all feel so immediate and real, even though some of it happened a long time ago. For a second I feel myself slipping away, but I hold on tightly. I don’t want to leave the world yet if I can help it.

Suddenly I feel relaxed. As if I don’t have to fight anymore.

            But Jack Kang was wrong: it does hurt.

It's kinda short, sorry! 

Anybody know what book Emra was quoting? The first person to guess correctly gets this chapter dedicated to them :3

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