Truth (a Divergent Fanfic)

Chapter Twenty

Everybody’s been there,

Everybody’s been stared down by the enemy

Fallen for the fear

And done some disappearing,

Bow down to the mighty

Don’t run, just stop holding your tongue ~ Sara Bareilles, Brave

*****

We’re just leaving when I hear a voice behind me. It’s surprised. “Amber?” And I’d know that voice anywhere. I stop. Callie stiffens beside me because she turned around before I did, but I take my time, rotating on shuffling feet slowly; because if we’re talking, this time, we’re talking on my terms.

“Eric.” I say, and my voice sounds tight even to me. “How… nice.”

“You’re Candor now?” He laughs, the sound that has plagued every single one of my nightmares - his voice is always the loudest. “Why are you wearing Dauntless clothing?” He looks me up and down, and when I don’t answer, he speaks again. “You got it on with one of the Dauntless, didn’t you?” The bitterness of his tone makes me realise that he hasn’t been ‘getting it on’ with anyone for a long time, although according to Will’s letter, he’d probably like to with Tris. I shake my head to get rid of the horrible image this projects, and he takes this as an answer, as a denial.

“You did. You did! Who? You little slut!”

“Eric!” I didn’t mean to scream at him, but he was already shouting, and I don’t want him to make even more of a scene. “Can we just talk? Please?” I wait until he calms his breathing down before speaking again. 

“Eric, you need to step down.” He looks confused, and so I clarify. “From your position as Dauntless leader. You’re killing people, you’re hurting people Eric, and the most unbelievable thing is you don’t even care.” His eyes first widen and then narrow, and I know he’s going to do something. I knew he wouldn’t just lie down and let me walk right over him. But I didn’t think he would outright fight me. I’m his sister. Not that that’s stopped him in the past. Family doesn’t really mean much to either of us. But somehow I find the courage to say my final line.

“And stay away from Tris.” His eyes are… bottomlessly dark. I can’t read them, can’t read anything about him other than the fact that he’s dangerous - but then I knew that already.

I’m poised ready to fly on the balls of my feet, still hoping he won’t attack, but I feel the knife that I took from the tattoo parlour press cold against my side. After the experience I’ve just had, I’m not going to go anywhere unarmed, but I didn’t expect an opportunity to use my weapon to arise so soon. My adrenaline is pumping. Fight or flight. Run, or use that knife on your brother.

So when he swings his first punch, I’m ready for him. I dodge, and it glances the side of my head, but I don’t even feel it. I’m already there, with my knife, slashing like a rabid animal. I was aiming for his chest, but somehow he moves or it’s just my aim is really bad or something, but the next I know, my sharp silver throwing knife is embedded into his left thigh and he’s crying out. I pull it out, and it’s covered in his red blood. Red. He’s still human. Just another human. I stagger back, shocked at what I have done to my own brother. See, there was always a difference between us; one of us has a conscience.

Not that it’s doing me any good now or anything. My inability to fight is offering him yet another chance to strike at me. He bares his teeth with anger and simultaneously grits them with grief, creating the most obscure and dangerously disturbing expression. He’s going to get me. And in my vulnerable state, I’ll probably let him. This is exactly what happened an hour ago. Eric won’t… rape me, but I know from experience that he’ll hurt me pretty bad. He has before - I have the scars all over my back to prove it. Scars to match Tobias’s. My heart starts to beat faster, I start to breathe faster, right on the edge of a panic attack.

Except. Except he never reaches me. Julian steps in between us. 

“Don’t even touch her.” He snarls. Eric laughs. And removes his own knife from the back of his belt. And… he’s going to hurt Julian. And it’s my fault. I start to sob; any bravado that I had a minute ago has completely evaporated. he slashes, like I did, but with better aim, so his blade connects with Julian where he wants it to, which is right on his chest. Thankfully, Julian moves away once he realises what Eric is doing, so he doesn’t get stabbed as my brother did, but his t-shirt is ripped open and a long, red line, trickling with blood, appears right across his broad chest.

I scream out his name.

My throat is sore from all the screaming I’m doing today.

Julian.

Eric shoves Julian roughly to the side and he leans against the side of the corridor, winded and panting heavily, bound to watch as Eric advances on me once again, limping ever so slightly. My vision is cloudy with my tears and my anger; I can’t move and neither can Julian, but Eric still is. We can’t do anything - we can’t stop him.

But someone can, and she does. Callie takes down Eric, my big brother, one of the five Dauntless leaders almost faster than I can start to worry, because if there’s anyone I would hate to see hurt more than Julian, it’s her. But I needn’t have worried. With one catastrophically hard punch to the head, tactically aimed at one of Eric’s piercings, he is floored. 

She kicks him as he lies, clutching his head like a baby on the floor, curled up in the foetus position. It’s a sharp jab in his side because her boots have tough two inch rubber soles today, and if it were anyone else I’d feel sorry for them, but it’s not, and so I don’t.

My best friend reaches out a hand to me and I am confused for a second, as I wonder what for. Oh, right. The knife. I hand it to her, and she looks at me. Her beautiful face is deadly serious, her beautiful eyes are a swirling hurricane of darkness and pain and anger. She has an imprint on her knuckles from where her hand collided with Eric’s piercing, but she hasn’t noticed it yet. I notice it. I notice everything about her.

She leans down towards him, bending over so her mouth is right next to his ear, like she did to me in the line earlier. I highly doubt Eric’s comfortable with the proximity either, although probably for different reasons - very different. Callie raises the hand holding the knife. He whimpers. 

“Listen, punk.” she whispers menacingly into his ear. “Don’t hurt her. Listen to her, you coward.” He’s still whimpering though, and he hasn’t looked at her yet. She grabs his earlobe and tugs on it, hard. Her careful hands, once used to apply make up to Julian’s face, now use the knife to decorate Eric’s ear. He grits his teeth, hissing out a strong stream of air, and she continues, her facial expression a mix of anger and nonchalance. It’s terrifying, but, in the weirdest way, kind of sexy.

“Listen.” she finishes, lifting the knife off what was once an ear and is now unrecognisable under the mess of blood that covers it. “Oh, and by the way…” she pauses to smile, a smile of satisfaction, of the victor. “You fight like a five year old girl. And scream like one.”

And she stands. Her eyes are cooling off rapidly now as she walks away, swaying her hips in the sassiest fashion. I stare after her.

My saviour. In more ways than one.