Hello! This is my new fanfiction and I'm quite excited about it. I hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you think! :)

My name is Sophie Willis and I am amity. I say this phrase to myself every day hoping that one day I’ll actually believe it.

The test was wrong. This is where I belong. The test didn’t work on me.

I try to convince myself that I mean these words but each time I say them they just seem hollow and fake.

No one else seems to notice though. No one sees that I’m always acting, that I’m always lying. I’ve been lying my whole life, so why would they notice now? I’ve managed to convince everyone that this place is where I feel at home and where I want to be. They don’t see how my head snaps up every time I hear the trains whistling past. They don’t see how my eyes follow the dark clothed figures as they leap from the fast moving machines. They don’t see it because it’s not what they want to see.

I am the daughter of a very influential member of our faction, Frank Willis. Although it is common knowledge that amity has no one leader, just a representative to express our joint views, some voices in our discussions are more persuasive than others. Some people’s views still carry more weight and are more respected than others. There’s nothing that can be done to stop this, it’s just the way that life works and my father happens to be one of those people with an opinion that people respect.  

I was born into this life and amity was always expected of me. The possibility that I may have gotten something else on my test or that I wanted to go somewhere else never crossed anyone’s mind. In their eyes I was the perfect amity child. But it was all an act.

My parents believe that a lot of people misunderstand where amity came from. It is often assumed these days that our faction is about kindness. However, my parents disagree with this, they think that our faction was founded solely on a desire for peace. And as they always tell me, wanting peace is very different to kindness. My parents believe that peace comes from order and control. They believe in doing things for the greater good and they recognise that sacrifices might have to be made in order for peace to be achieved. My parents are not kind.

I love my parents, I really do, it’s just that sometimes I wonder if they love me. Nothing I ever do is good enough for them. They want me to be perfect and ordered and I try. I try my best to be organised and follow the rules. I try to always be on time, I’ve even taken to setting my watch five minutes fast in an attempt to stop myself being late, But somehow I always find a way to screw things up. I can never just be perfect. I can’t be what they want me to be. No matter how hard I try I mess things up for them. And that’s what they see me as, a mess in their ordered and peaceful lives.

I scurry along the pavement towards my house. I’m going to be late for dinner. I’m running eleven minutes behind the time that I should be. My parents are going to be angry.

Maybe if my father isn’t home from work yet I can convince my mother not to tell him. That would at least limit the damage. I glance at my watch again. No, that’s not going to work. My father will be getting home in seven minutes and I’m still fourteen minutes away from my house.

Crap!

My parents would scold me if they heard me cursing but I only do it in my head and not even they can control me there.

I hear the thunder of an engine approach and my feet freeze. Suddenly I forget that I’m already going to be late home and that my parents will not be happy with me. All I can focus on is the sound of the train as it gets closer. I watch, my mouth open in awe as I see the machine shoot past and young people dressed all in black hanging onto the train, sticking their heads out of the open doors. I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face as I hear them cheer from the exhilaration. I can’t even imagine what it would be like to stick my head out of a speeding train’s door. But there’s a fluttering in my stomach that tells me that I really want to know.

Snap out of it, Sophie! Your parents are waiting for you. You had your chance. You could have chosen that life two years ago but you didn’t. You made your choice now suck it up and deal with it.

But did I ever really have a choice?

My parents made it perfectly clear where they stood on the matter. It would have been an embarrassment to them to have their daughter switch factions. No, my parents always told me that it was my duty to this family to remain in amity, no matter what my test results were.

But you could have gotten away from them and their rules. A small voice in the back of my head whispers. I quickly push that thought away as I don’t want to have to face the emotions that came with it. The regret and guilt that followed a thought like that always left a bad taste in my mouth.

I turn my head back to the ground and continue walking.

I wouldn’t have made it into dauntless anyway. I wouldn’t have fit in. I’m not brave. I can’t even stand up to my own parents. No, I didn’t deserve to be in dauntless. If I had been brave enough to defy my parents wishes and do what I had wanted to do with my life then I might have been worthy of being a dauntless, but I fell at the first  hurdle. I didn’t even have the courage to leave my faction. They would have laughed in my face the moment that I picked them. I would have been factionless in a week.

The test was wrong.

I could see my house in the distance. I was getting closer. Another brief glance at my watch told me that my stupid obsession with the dauntless faction had cost me another minute, I was now going to be twelve minutes late. I was going to be in so much trouble.

I slowly slipped my key into the door and tried to silently enter the house. But any hope of quietly slipping up to my room unnoticed faded away at the sight of my parents sitting at the dinner table, looking at me. Their plates of food were in front of them and untouched. They were waiting for me.

“Sophie, what time is it?” My father asked in a calm voice. This immediately set me on edge, it was always worse when he started off calm.

“It’s 6:44, Sir.” I say quietly, starring at the ground and not making eye contact. I can’t look at him right now because I know what I’ll see if I do. I’ll see the burning rage that he can barely hold back.

“And what time are you meant to return home?” He asks, still in a controlled tone.

“6:32, Sir.” I whisper.

“So then WHY are you so late?” My father roars, losing whatever grip he had on his control and banging his fist on the table. The loud noise causes me to flinch and I stare at him wide eyed, my mouth moving noiselessly as I try to come up with something to say that may appease him. I draw a blank.

“I-I-I don’t know, Sir.” I stutter as I wring my hands together nervously.

“You don’t know? Do you really think that that excuse is good enough?” My father shouts, standing up abruptly and sending his chair clattering to the floor.

“No, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir. I won’t let it happen again.” I mumble.

“Your apologies and empty promises aren’t going to fix anything, are they? Your mother worked hard to prepare a meal for us, and because you were late it is now cold!” He yells, pointing at the food in front of him.

“I’m sorry, I can heat it up for you if you’d like, or cook you another meal.” I stammer rushing forward to take his plate in an attempt to remedy the situation. Maybe if I just reheated the food he would calm down. Maybe he’d stop shouting. But I hadn’t made it more than a few steps before he picked up his plate and threw it to the ground, smashing it.

I couldn’t stop the small squeal of surprise and fright that left my mouth, but I quickly brought my hand up to my face to prevent any further noises escaping.

“That’s not good enough! That isn’t the way things go. You know that we eat at 6:36 each evening. Why can’t you just stick to the routine? Is it so difficult to keep to a schedule? Why can’t you just do what you’re supposed to? You always mess up the order!”

Why can’t you just be perfect? He doesn’t say it, but that’s what he means. I’m not good enough. I never am. I’m a disappointment.

My mother remained silent throughout my father’s shouting but the look on her face tells me that she completely agrees with him. My mother will never raise her voice to me but sometimes her harsh words and sharp glares can be worse than my father’s volume.

My father was born in amity, like me, but sometimes I wonder how he could possibly have gotten amity on his aptitude test. Both him and my mother hold a warped view of what our faction stands for. They don’t mind disturbing the peace in our own home if they think it will help bring greater peace to everyone else. They know that they don’t always act in a peaceful manner but they justify this to themselves by saying that it is for the greater good. They don’t believe that kindness is a necessary or important part of our faction, they just see it as a consequence of striving for harmony.

I know that my parents’ views on amity are wrong, but they do have a point. Peace rises out of order and everyone knowing their place. So I need to be ordered, I need to be corrected. They are trying to help me. They are just doing it in the best way that they know how.

My father doesn’t act this way in front of other members of amity. He says that that would disturb the peace of society and that is counterproductive. His rage is only unleashed in our house and the majority of the time it’s unleashed on me.

Oddly enough, I find a small bit of comfort from my parents not understanding what amity means. That they don’t fit in here makes me feel better about not fitting in here either. The way I see it is that none of us really belong in amity, but we fit here better than we would anywhere else, so we all just have to settle on this faction.

I can’t imagine my parents being in any other faction, they couldn’t be. They aren’t exceptionally clever, they definitely aren’t selfless or honest, and they aren’t brave. They want order and peace and that leaves them here, in amity. Amity is the best fit, it’s not a perfect fit, but it’s the best that they’ve got.

I guess the same applies to me, but there’s a small part of me that likes to think that I would have had a better fit in dauntless. I don’t let that part of me have a voice. I know that I wouldn’t have fit in there. I’m not brave.

I am amity. I’m just going to have to accept this.