Everlong (Peter Hayes from Divergent)

Chapter 2: Crawling to Dauntless

            The first stage of training was undeniably brutal and cruel, filled with the violence that made everyone so afraid of the Dauntless. In that training room, I did not see brave keepers of justice dedicated to extraordinary acts of bravery. I saw cowards who would sacrifice anyone to earn their place in Dauntless. I saw the people who would grow up to bully the factionless and beat each other down for the glory and spoils of war. This wasn't Dauntless. This was cowardice.

"Alex and Elijah! In the ring." Peter announced. "Until one of you is no longer able to continue."

The rules had changed, that much we knew. In the year before, no one was offered the option to concede. We had to be willing to travel to the edge of death or be kicked out. No one, not even the Dauntless-borns, knew why the rules had changed.

I prayed for my friend as she went into the ring against a Dauntless born with a smile almost as bright as hers. Neither wanted to fight but both knew they had no choice in it. Peter watched everything, taking notes of everyone's progress or lack thereof. He would knock points off if you looked afraid or flinched at anything. It was incredible that anyone had any points left at this point.

At this point, Elijah swung, planting a hard punch to Alex's jaw, quickly knocking her to the ground. I gave her props for getting up. She even got a few good kicks to his ribs before he picked her up and slammed her to the ground, repeatedly hitting her face until her eyes closed and she was unconscious. It was a quick fight but I could tell Elijah had shown mercy to her. He could have dragged it out, shown the same sadism people like Peter exhibit, and made sure she felt it. I deemed Elijah one of the good Dauntless.

"Peter."

Everyone turned toward the voice as a large man with an eyebrow piercing and tattoos covering his neck entered the training room. To say he was intimidating was a complete and utter understatement. Looking at him was like inviting death inside, as if he could stuff your body with daggers just because he could.

"Eric." Peter said, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he approached the man. Eric. So he's the one we'd heard about. One of the instructors of last year.

"How's the training going?" Eric asked. "Anyone out yet?"

"Not yet." All I heard was malice in both of their voices.

"I'm disappointed. Thought you'd be able to scare a couple of the cowards away by now." Eric said. "Maybe you aren't hard enough on them, Peter."

I look down at the bruises on my arms, legs, and torso. I am a tornado of purples and blues all blending together in painful bunches where violence has touched me in ways I will not be able to forget. I know I am not the only one. Peter has not gone easy on us and I regret my wish to have had Eric as a trainer instead. Peter is the lesser of two evils, something I never thought I'd think.

Without looking away from Eric's eyes, challenging him with narrow eyes, Peter shouts. "Squealer! Malcom! In the ring now!"

I realized Elijah was next to me when he pats me on the back and whispered good luck to me before I went. I smiled at him and thanked him, both for the luck and for his mercy on Alex. We were all just kids who are trying to survive and climb beyond the bottom of the food chain.

Maybe Peter is doing the same thing. Maybe Eric is the bigger fish who's going to eat him alive if he doesn't keep up. Maybe he's just trying not to get killed like we all are. Maybe he's just like us and that's how it has to be here. For the first time, I don't see Peter as the bad guy.