Chasm

Chapter 2

TOBIAS POV

Fighting has become a second nature to me. The pattern of swinging fists and dodging them has become predictable in a way I wish it hadn't.

Catcalls and urgent shouts fill in the empty spaces between me, the other fighter, and the audience that encloses us. I don't even know my opponent's name, but in the midst of the muffled sounds around me, I can barely make out the name "Razor" being chanted.

We circle each other for a moment, on a mat in the center of the training room. All the sights blur until he is the only person in my vision. I study his face: the beard that doesn't look very clean at all, the ring through his eyebrow, the bald head—an ugly bastard. He must be over ten years older than me, and has been in Dauntless for much longer than that, but he will not win this fight.

I sidestep him carelessly when he throws a slow punch. The crowd boos—they bet good money on both of us, and I don't think that my screwing around is getting them any closer to an entertaining fight or their gambled money. But the brawl has to last longer than a couple minutes, or else then they would really be disappointed. They should all know by now what I can do, how I could end this fight in seconds, and they are fools if they bet against me.

While we dance around each other, my mind drifts elsewhere, as it sometimes does during these fights. I don't necessarily need to pay attention when I can predict my opponents' actions ahead of time, before they even think of performing whatever sad attempt they can muster.

I reflect on my pathetic day that consisted of working in the control room for most of it. However, I did spend time with Zeke, Shauna, and Uriah, who has fallen into our group since the war. He and Shauna bonded over Lynn's death, and Zeke and I have noticed his loneliness, so we let him accompany us everywhere, despite being younger.

I think that being tightly packed in our group keeps the demons of war away during the day. There is strength in numbers, I have found.

But the war that ended nine months ago always find some way to creep into my brain, to fill me with regret and complicate my life now. If I'm being honest, I blame myself for what happened, for the lives that were taken. It was my fault after all, since I was the one who knew about the attack on Abnegation in advance and only went as far as to warn Marcus, who then refused to heed it. I gave up; I am responsible for thousands of deaths, and great, now I have a nervous ache in my stomach that will not help me win this fight.

Just as I come to my senses for a moment to dodge another hit, it dawns on me what today is. I didn't even realize that it was Aptitude Test Day.

And tomorrow is the Choosing Ceremony.

Which means Tris is choosing.

In my distracted haze, I take a blow to the mouth, which snaps me straight out of it. I breathe out, "Fuck," under my breath and shake off the shock of pain in the lower half of my face. I notice that Razor has a smirk on his.

With my arms raised into an offensive position, I find a wide gap where I target his stomach. He doubles over with a wheeze, and I finish him off with a loud hit to the temple, which leaves him crumpled on the mat. Likely unconscious.

People yell for him to get up while others cheer, and I don't waste my time to stay and see the aftermath. I shove my way through the awed audience and out of the training room, picking up my jacket off of a table along the way.

The cool, underground air makes me sigh in relief. The musty training room was overheated, and now cold sweat clings to my shirt and my body. I prod at my lip to test it, and sure enough it is painful enough to make me wince. My fingertip also comes away dabbed with red.