The Daughters of the System (Divergent ff)

Chapter 9: It must've been the wind

I wake up in an unfamiliar, empty room.

No, i've been here before. This is the infirmary. Why am i in the infirmary?

Looking around the room i see empty beds next to mine. The ground's a bit dusty, but cleaner than the rest of the compound.

I yawn and stretch, getting up from the bed and dressing myself in the clothes on my bedside. It's a big sweater and sweatpants. In an attempt to not get swallowed whole by the clothes i tuck the sweater into the pants and fold the pants legs over once or thrice.

With Willow's heels on my feet i flaunt out of the infirmary.

"Wait, Andy!" someone yells after me. A nurse comes running towards me as she takes my hand. "You need rest, Eric's orders. He's excused you for training today." She informs me.

I give her one look before stepping back. "Are you going to stop me if i walk out of that door?" I ask her. She shakes her head.

"Alright then, tell Eric i'll decide when i need an off day my damn self." I say loudly on my way out. As the nurse said, she doesn't chase after me. I only hear her chuckle. I swear she whispered under her breath that Eric had picked something right, but the words just seem wrangled.

I stop by the dorm. With a quick shower in a heavenly empty bathroom i throw on some more fitting pants, deciding to keep the warm sweater on. It smells nice. I put back on my trusty boots and strut out of the room. I pass people on my way to the training room, but i can't care less that they're watching.

My mindset doesn't change when i see someone i recognise. Four, he's staring at me with a person —that i assume to be another initiate— drooping over his shoulder. He raises a brow at me, but i just continue on my mission. Neither of us pause our steady paces towards our destinations.

Arriving at the training room, i slam open the doors in a spur of the moment dramatic choice. No regrets.

Some initiates give me weird looks as i walk over to a tired looking Willow losing her fight to a punching bag. I low-five her as she mumbles a greeting.

"How are you still alive?" She asks as i stretch.

"Better question, how're you holding up?" I ask her, throwing my first few punches against the punching bag next to hers.

Willow sighs and hugs the punching bag instead. "I threw up this morning. Twice." She shudders at the memory.

"Where were you this morning?" Vince says as he walks up to us, Olive sticking to his side.

"Oh, you missed the news," Willow grumbled "Those two got together." She points at Vince and Olive with the utmost struggle.

"It sure took long enough," i note. Olive just giggles.

Caught up in our own world, we fail to notice a certain person striding up to us. "Did i tell you to stop, initiates?" Eric asks. He would've surprised me if i wasn't for his boots shaking the floor with every step he took.

Vince, Willow and Olive however are less aware. Vince jumps back, Willow slap's Olive's face out of reflex and Olive flinches to then glare at Willow. Which i understood. Of course anyone wants to slap someone else in the face, but i suppose no one wants to be slapped in the face.

"You actually told me not to start." I respond to Eric's previous statement when no one else does. Eric spares me a quick glance before glaring at my friends. "Go back to work." He commands.

He then looks down at me. "Follow me, initiate." he snaps. It reminds me of Zander. Wow, i remember a bit from last night. Zander was commanding me to not drink too much. Oops?

I hadn't noticed i was being dragged away until Eric stops pulling my arm. I clash into his chest and groan. With a shudder i look up at him.

His eyes don't seem completely cold for once. For once i might actually see something else in them. Pity. Yes, it was pity. I don't like it.

"How are you holding up?" He asks. I give him a weird look. What the hell is he on about? 

"You don't remember. Okay, good," Eric is no longer pitiful. Instead i might even mistake his expression for sadness.

"Look, In- Andy. All i know is that yesterday a guy brought you to me unconscious and i brought you to the infirmary." Eric explains, although he's clearly holding back a lot of information i wouldn't mind knowing.

"When i get my memories back of yesterday, and i will. I'll find out what you're holding back," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose "Don't think you can get rid of me that fast, mr leader man."

I walk away from Eric even though i'm sure he wants to say something else, simply because i'm tired. I'm so sick and tired of people holding back things and straight up lying to my face.

Once Four came back with the boy he had drooped over his shoulder, that turned out to
be Dean, i'm posted at the punching bags. Leaving me alone with my thoughts.

My mind wanders off to yesterday, well, rather the foggy memory i have of it.

There was Zander asking me to the party. Then Lauren warning me about something. Willow with her little panic ramble. Me, picking out an outfit. Zander coming to pick me up. Him commanding me about drinking. Of course the dancing. I think i might've met Zander's friends once. Then nothing.

All blank up until Eric's supposed story with the infirmary.

Not knowing is driving me mad. I've not drank myself into never lasting forgetfulness in 4 months. How have i strayed this far from reality again?

I look down, disappointed at myself, when i'm hit with the smell again. That distinct burn of fire mixed with the aroma of freshly baked bread.

I hug the sweater as i take in the smell and for the first time today i am calm. With another sniff of the magnificent scent i begin hitting the punching bag. With a singular hit i've managed to hurt my wrist.

When i look down though, there are fresh bruises on both my wrists. I put some bandages on them and continue on. Injury wise my body surely isn't in top shape. Bruised wrists? Scratches on my thighs? scraped knees and knuckles? What the fuck happened last night?

One thing is for damn sure, i was fighting. Maybe i could ask Willow to fill me in, or Zander.

Despite my clear paining and wincing with my every hit i carry on punching. Feeling Eric's eyes staring at me every time i pause ever so slightly, i assume he wants to fuck me over. Kick me to the ground when i'm down, when i've got no clue about a night that got me beat up.

That's the kind of guy Eric Coulter is, that's the kind of move those people make.