Pleuvoir | Eric Coulter

Labing-lima

K a r o l i i n a

"Eric," I say, shocked, "I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to--"

I shut my mouth when he gives me a devious grin, and watch as he stands up and limps towards me. I start backing away in fear, the gun in my hand shaking. If he is going to shoot me as payback, I can only close my eyes and wait for the excruciating pain his dart will emit.

Then, out of nowhere, hands grab my shoulders and push me to the side, and I watch as Eric holds up his gun and fires a dart in front of him. My breath catches in my throat as Eric's teammate, Peter, falls down on the ground whilst clutching his neck.

I gape at the leader. Not only did he disobey the rules and shot a person above the shoulders, but he also shot a member of his team.

"Why did you--"

"I couldn't let you get hit, now could I?" He smirks like he always does when he's feeling smug, and with a small nod, he rushes off to join the shooting that's happening a couple of feet away from us.

I slump against the wall, staring at Peter's almost convulsing figure. What was that? Did I hallucinate?

I massage my temples as if it was going to take the memory of Eric shooting Peter away from my mind and dissolve into a distant thought. I sigh, looking at the gun in my hands. Today was proving to be very odd.

∞

Turns out, my team won.

As my teammates crowd over Beatrice and Christina, the seemingly heroes of our win, I overhear a Dauntless-born invite the two of them for a much more 'fun' way of getting back to the Dauntless compound. Beatrice agrees to join them in the zip-line adventure, making me sigh as I walk alone towards the train tracks.

I kick a pebble as I drift away from the others, wallowing in my own misery. I shouldn't be this sad over the fact that no one invited me. My poor social skills were to blame. I  was to blame.

"You're not joining them?" For the second time this early morning I jump back in surprise, clutching my chest. I stare with narrowed eyes as Eric chuckles at my expression.

"What's wrong with you?" I huff angrily, walking even faster to the train tracks.

"Shit, wait!" I hear him call, and soon the sound of his footsteps hits my ears. A hand grabs a hold of my arm, and I abruptly stop. I whip my head to turn at Eric, "What do you want?"

"I've been shot at least five times in the back," He says, looking at me with dark eyes, "Get the darts out for me."

Then, Eric turns around, and I gasp softly when I see the darts sticking out of his back. He grunts, gesturing with his fingers that I start doing what he told me to do. Slowly, I walk towards him and put my hands on one of the darts.

"S-Should I count to three before I--"

"Just get on with it, woman!" He snaps, hands curling into fists.

Quickly, I pull one dart, and I stop when Eric lets out a rough groan. Shaking, I place my hand down, "Should I stop--"

"Did I tell you to?" He growls, and my reflexes move my hands to pull more darts from his back. All the while I do that, Eric stays silent, only grunting when I particularly pull on a dart with more force.

After a few minutes, I finish pulling all the darts and I chuck them to the ground. Eric, the amusement on his expression is lost now, leans against me, and I watch as his forehead perspires with sweat.  

I have a hard time steadying him, but I somehow manage to. I wrap his ridiculously large bicep around my shoulders and ask as I tug him along with me, "Are you okay? You're sweating so much."