Everlong (Peter Hayes from Divergent)

Chapter 1: Welcome to Dauntless

            When I first chose Dauntless, it was difficult to believe that I really chose it. Now, I can't imagine choosing anything else.

It is not just because of Peter, though that is an important chunk of it. It is also because of the courage, strength, and trust that I've developed during my time here. The kind of camaraderie that comes with risking your life for others and trusting they risk their lives in return brings people together in a way that could never be understood by merely reading a textbook or experimenting in a lab. That's why I left Erudite. They would never understand that.

Being Erudite was a lifetime ago. The blue blazers, neat hair, and glasses were a girl, timid and afraid but with a million facts running through her head. The day I traded that in for leather jackets and tattoos was the day I learned to shut my brain up. It was the same city but a different way of life. To do rather than think. To live rather than fear.

I remember the day I entered the Dauntless compound. I was the third poor son of a bitch to take the plunge toward a hole in the roof only to hit the harsh but safe material of the net at the bottom of it. There were hands pulling me as I made my way off the net, twisting and stretching until my feet hit solid ground. I looked up at the hole in the sky, wondering how gruesome it would have been if I happened to still be laying in the net when the next initiate came hurling towards it. Would the momentum have crushed my bones, rendering me factionless before I could even begin? I tried to do the math in my head, calculating my approximate velocity and my mass and a possible velocity and mass of the next initiate.

There was a hand gripped around my arm that jolted me from my thoughts, holding me tighter than necessary. There would be bruises in the morning. If I survived that long.

"I don't have all day, initiate." The owner of the hand spoke to me harshly but there was a sense of boredom. Like he couldn't care less. "Name?"

"Lana." My name came out as barely a whisper.

"What was that?" His voice was mocking.

"Lana." I coughed a bit louder, still intimidated by his presence. The man was only a few years older than I was but was tall. His body was littered with scars and taut muscles stood out against his skin. It was clear that he was no stranger to violence.

He leaned in closer and narrowed his eyes. His fingers tightened around the flesh of my arms as he leaned in, his muscles tightening and rippling underneath his black t-shirt. "Are you afraid, Lana?"

"No." I sounded stronger, but I felt smaller. He knew it.

"I hope you turn out to be stronger than your voice is." He sneers. "We don't let mice into Dauntless."

As he let go of my arm, he shoved me toward the other initiates. My upper arm had five red imprints in the shapes of his fingers, aching and throbbing. I knew I must have looked like a kicked puppy by the looks of pity the others gave me as I walked over to them. A Dauntless woman stood with them and leaned down toward me. She had kind eyes and countless tattoos. She brushed her short hair out of her eyes and gave me a pat on the shoulder, the first reassuring gesture I'd known that day.

"I just want to formally apologize in advance for Peter." She says, shaking her head. "Unfortunately, he's in charge of your training. Fortunately, after training, you'll barely see him."

I nod. The difference between this woman and Peter is astounding.

"My name's Christina. Yours?"