Divergent: Before We Chose

Page Six

Tobias

I've been told a thousand times that Dauntless initiation is one of the hardest, most challenging experiences one could ever encounter, but I had no idea it would involve being woken up at unholy hours of the morning.

I had been lying awake as it was, my body aching from the knife throwing and wrestling we had been put through that day. Smiling to myself at discovering my niche for knife-throwing, I'd paused, hearing a sound in the corridor. The entire pit was dark, full of sleeping Dauntless. It must have been the early hours of the morning.

I disregarded the noise I'd heard and had turned over, my smile dissolving into a worried frown. I was still dressed in my clothes, all black, and once again troublesome thoughts plagued my mind. I had been wondering for days if my rebellious decision had been the right move. Sure, I'd gotten away from my father, but was I cut out for Dauntless? Was being Fearless really something to be admired for? Was it even virtually possible? I had no idea. I wasn't afraid of many things - or so I thought - but we hadn't gone into the fear landscapes yet, and so I didn't know what I feared, or how many fears I had even.

I had been thinking about running away again, becoming factionless, when suddenly my door slammed open. Assuming it was one of the other initiates trying to pull a fast one on me - Eric, most likely - and so I had jumped up.

Now I stood on my two feet, bare, facing the silhouette of my intruder. They wear black - Dauntless, of course. But not my fellow initiates; they're  too tall, too burly to be as young as I am.

"Hey there, Tobias," one smiles maliciously, his teeth lighting up the dark room. A little illumination comes in from the corridor behind him. A shiver goes through me, adrenaline coursing into my veins. I wish I had a knife to throw. But I don't. And I know these men mean danger for me.

They lunge at me, and I dodge them. One catches my arm, twisting it painfully, and I lash out, my fist connecting with his nose. He cries out in rage more than pain, for Dauntless don't fear pain.

The other pins my arms behind me in one swift movement and I am trapped. The man I hit stands before me, and I can see the thick blood streaming from his nose, black blood in this light. He wipes it away roughly with his black sleeve, the frayed ends exposing his tattoo. My heart stops. Two hands joined together in a circle are on his wrist - the Abnegation symbol. 

"I would punish you for breaking my nose," he says, his voice sounding strange and muffled, as if he's sick, but really it's just blood clogging his smash cartilage. "But I'm sure Daddy will punish you enough when you get home."

A bag is put over my head, and my decision to leave Dauntless has been made for me.

Now I realize I do have a fear.

My father.