Pleuvoir | Eric Coulter

Anim

K a r o l i i n a

Four was mean.

Early in the morning, he had barged into the initiates' dorms and banged a metal pipe unto another metal pipe, making a loud ruckus and waking the sleeping initiates. Some were like Beatrice, who had leapt out of bed quickly and followed Four's barking, going to the Dining Hall as fast as they could.

However, some were like me—groaning and moaning and refusing to get up. My body had somehow shut down, I guess. It felt like I couldn't move, so Four decided it was best to douse me in ice cold water whilst the others watched the scene with snickering faces.

I was like a wet dog.

I had scampered out of bed, and into one of the bathroom stalls I claimed as mine by putting my blanket over a pipe to serve as a door. I was blushing madly, my tattered black shirt clung to me like second skin. Anyone could tell I was humiliated and embarrassed. Who wouldn't be? After having your instructor pour water over you with your peers watching, it was begging for shame to come hit you in the face. 

Three minutes later, here I was, standing in the Dining Hall.

My head was down, gazing intensely at my shoes. I heard shuffling all around me, people trying to push their way through the Dauntless crowd to sit on their tables and eat their meal. I, sadly, had no appetite after what happened a while ago, so I had opted to stay in the corner and just stand.

It was nice, nobody had felt the need to disturb my silence.

"Hey, you're Karoliina, right?"

Sigh. I thought too soon.

I shrugged my shoulders as a reply to the one who talked to me, never once lifting my head up to meet their gaze. I was content with the view of my grey shoes, I didn't need someone's face to destroy it.

"My friend is asking if you're mute or something." They continued, and now that I've heard their voice more clearly, I've identified the person as a 'he'.

Wait, wait.

What?

"M-Mute?" I stuttered, finally looking at the boy who was talking to me.

"I didn't mean to offend you or something," He quickly added, brushing off his blonde hair out of his face, "It's just that you don't talk... But now that you did, I guess that answers my friend's question."

Biting the inside of my cheek, I looked back down on my shoes, contemplating whether or not I should say a reply to his sentence. I gulped, glancing at him for a second before turning away and running out of the cafeteria.

"Hey, wait!" I heard the boy call, but I was far too embarrassed to go back.

I was not mute.

∞

"You'll be learning how to throw a knife." Four announced, picking up five knives from the table beside him and looking at each of our faces.

He walked closer to the wooden targets, pointing at a certain point. "Critical places are the heart, the head, and if you're lucky, you can hit your enemies in their privates."

Walking back to the spot he was in a while ago, he took one of the knives he was holding and stood in a throwing position. Four placed his feet apart, moved his right arm back and swung the knife towards the target.

It was like watching a video in slow-motion. My eyes were glued to the knife he let go, and I imagined it as a bird flying to its freedom. Too soon, the knife lodged itself into the wooden target, hitting it perfectly on one of the critical spots—the heart.

"Each of you, grab a set of five and start."

I let the other initiates grab their knives first, not really welcoming the idea that if I went with them, I would experience skin to skin contact. I was not OA, you know, an overacting person, but I just really disliked the idea of having contacts with other people--kind of like when I talk to them.

When all were finished, I walked slowly to the table containing the knives and picked five carefully. The lights glistened against the sharp blades, and for once, I thought about how Dahlia would feel if she saw me holding these weapons.

With a heavy sigh, I trudged to the corner where the last target was located. There were twelve targets, so there were two empty spots next to me before the next initiate; I was glad for that.

With slight hesitation, I mimicked the position Four was in before he threw the knife. My hand was somewhat shaking, although not that visible. With my feet apart and left arm held back, I swung my arm forward and let the knife soar into the air, hoping that it would at least hit the target's outline.

It hit the target on its 'legs'.

I felt a smile forming in my lips. It seemed like Dauntless was being easy on the Abnegation girl.

The doors to the training room were suddenly opened, a banging sound ricocheting off the walls. Heavy footsteps followed, leading to the place were Four was standing.

"What's this, are we throwing teddy bears and stuffed toys to the targets?"

I froze at Eric's remark, placing the knife I was holding down.

"I can't see a fucking knife sticking out of a target, not even one!" Eric continued, and it seemed like whenever he opened his mouth, you should be wearing an armour to prepare yourself from his hurtful insults.

"We were just starting," Four muttered, annoyed, and gestured for us to start throwing again.

I couldn't, not with Eric watching us with hard eyes. If I made a mistake, I was sure he would comment about it.

"The Abnegation made a throw," The Candor boy who was boastful in the train, piped up, pointing at me. He was Peter Hayes, I think.

Eric followed where he was pointing at, and I was sure there was a little sneer that came up on his face when he saw me. The young leader went towards my direction, placing his arms behind his back.

My expression faltered, and I was back looking at my shoes again. I saw the black boots in my vision before I heard his deep, threatening voice.

"What the hell are you wearing?" He muttered, voice low and laced in... disgust?

I clenched my fists, feeling the blush forming in my cheeks. I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, one that hid my entire upper body, and a pair of trousers that reached the floor if I didn't fold them a couple of times. My skin was hidden, why was he disgusted?

"Answer me, damn it. Don't you have a fucking voice?" Eric roared, and I stepped back, loosening my hold on the knife and letting it fall to the floor.

"I-I..." My voice was high, and I felt a stinging on the back of my eyes.

"You're not mute, aren't you?" He hissed, invading my space and grabbing my chin, lifting it up to meet my teary gaze, "Fucking say something. And stop stuttering, for fuck's sake."

"I'm sorry," I apologised, closing my eyes so that I wouldn't have to see his angry stare anymore.

Eric huffed and let go of my chin, fixed his shirt and murmured in a deep voice, "I'll be careful, Stiff. Just because your results were Dauntless doesn't mean you can be one."

And he left, leaving a heavy air clouding the training room.