Losing It All

Chapter Five

Falling to pieces.

It's the only thought that floats through my brain as I watch the seconds tick by on the face of the clock. I look down at the paper I'm supposed to be in filling out; the medical exam that will allow me to train to be an Amity Nurse. It is blank. The problem is not a lack of knowledge. I'd been studying hard for this moment for years. The problem is that I'm a complete emotional wreck right now. I place my head in my hands, glad that the Amity do not put time limits on their tests. I take a deep breath, focus my attention on the impossible whiteness of the paper under the florescent lights, and answer the questions in tiny curlicues of script.

I haven't seen Eric for almost two weeks, despite riding the train back and forth for so long that I'd nearly gotten caught sneaking in and out of the compound. It was wrecking my ability to focus on anything; ruining my chances to remain in my faction. It was getting harder and harder to fake the smiles. Kindness is for the happy and the caring. It is no longer for me. It is the middle of the day but I hide in the dorm and scream into my pillow. I want to see you. I am becoming more and more selfish with each and every breath. I need to see you. It is making me unkind. I hear the transfer initiates chattering as the walk down the hallway. This isn't the transfer dorm, so they must be looking for me. I slip out of the back exit to avoid them and rush toward the women's bathroom. It is empty and the tile feels cool on my bare feet. I take of my clothes and turn on one of the showers. It is a waste of resources to shower when you don't need to bathe, but I really need this right now. I sit on the floor and let the icy water drown out my tears. For the next five minutes at least I could let myself be unhappy.

***

The wind whips my face, burning my cheeks and stinging the wet trail left behind by my tears. I don't know why I still come. Don't know why I'm lying to Sam and Emily; lying to myself. This is over. It must be or he would be here, wouldn't he? Stupid. Falling for a guy known for his cruelty is stupid. And then I see him. Waiting at the edge of the tracks. He pulls himself into my car without any difficulty and greets me with a smile. My eyes flood with tears and I stand. The sound my fist makes when it collides with his jaw, echoes through the quiet night. I can hear nothing else. He looks at me in surprise and then grins.

“You really should have chosen Dauntless, you know,” he says, “You would have done well.”

I shake my head. “No, I wouldn't have. I wasn't brave enough to follow you.”

He pulls me into his arms and even though I still want to hate him, all of my anger melts away, replaced by the sound of his steadily beating heart. We sink to the floor and I stay silently wrapped in his arms for a long time. “Where did you go?” I whisper against his chest. “I looked for you.”

His fingers tangle themselves in my hair while his other hand strokes my back. He doesn't answer. “Eric?” His hands drop so that they squeeze both of my arms. I clench my teeth and refuse to cry out. He releases me just as suddenly.

“Training,” he mumbles, as though reluctant to tell me. “That Stiff! Thinks he's so great. Got a luck shot in and wrecked my jaw.” He takes my face in his hands and stares at me fervently. “But I'm going to destroy him. I swear!”

I cover his hands with my own. “I know you will.” I reach out and gently stroke his still bruised jaw. “Though I wish you'd be more careful. It seems like you always have a bruise here.” I kiss his cheek. “Why don't you teach me?”

He gives me a confused look. “Teach you?”

I nod. “Teach me how to fight! I know you probably don't need the help, but sometimes going over things with others makes you see things differently. Maybe if you teach me, we can come up with some new techniques.” He looks away and I realize that I haven't sold my point. “Plus, if you teach me then the other initiates won't be seeing you fight. You'll be able to take them off guard because you can change your style without letting them see you train.”

He looks back at me with an expression that shows he sees a stroke of brilliance in my words. If he notices their selfish intent behind them he doesn't comment. He grins at me. “Alright. Let's do it.”

***

I fall to the ground with a strangled sound that seems to be cross between a grunt and a scream. Eric looks as frustrated as I feel. I stand and brush the mud off of my ass.

“You're holding your body completely wrong,” he says. A flash of metal glints in his eyebrow as a beam of moonlight illuminates us and I bite my lip. Between the subtle piercings and the coils of black ink undulating on his arms, I feel like I can't breathe. He is changing – or maybe he's just letting himself be himself. Either way it's driving me mad.

He stands behind me and slips his arms around me, so that my fists are captured in his hands. He pulls my arm back with his showing me the correct way to punch through the air. I try to focus on how my muscles should feel through each movement but he is too close and I can't think. Then he tells me to kick, so I swing my leg up. He catches it; his body the only force keeping me from falling to the ground. His fingers are around my knee and his other hand moulds to my hip. He is telling me the proper way to move my leg but all I can feel is his hand as it slides a little farther up my thigh. My breath catches in my throat. He has stopped talking. I move my head to look at him and see something like hunger and restraint in his eyes. He must have realized where is hand is. My heart picks up speed and suddenly I feel too hot, though the night is cool. His hand leaves my hip and cradles my head as he lowers me to the ground. His lips capture mine and the next thing, I know he's hovering above me, showering kisses on my face, neck and shoulders. They are not the calculated movements as I'd come to associate with him; they are random and wild.

It's too fast.

“Stop,” I say, trying to get his attention. “Eric, stop.” His fingers bury into my shoulders. It's too hard. I cry out in pain. “Eric, that's enough!” He doesn't stop. For the first time, I feel fear in his presence. But the fear doesn't last long; it changes, manifesting itself in anger. It becomes power. I push him off of me and lay into him with all the fury and worry of the last few days. With rage as my focus, fighting isn't that hard. Eric rolls away from my tirade and gets to his feet. He swings back and I move, but not fast enough. He fist slams into the side of my face. I let out a scream and pounce at him like an animal, willing to claw, maim and bite my way to victory. But he is stronger and subdues me easily. I scream again, but he laughs. I feel it vibrate through his chest and somehow calm down.

“I knew you could do it,” he says. “You just needed the proper motivation.” I hold my breath. He's right. I had needed to be angry to fight. And it had felt so, so good to be angry. The thought should scare me, but I find it more exhilarating than anything I'd ever done. Anger and violence were the greatest of Amity's taboos. Eric leans in a presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Well done,” he whispers against my lips. “But I think it's time we call it a night.”