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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒:
Bleed for This

Who does he think he is? Why does he think he gets a say over my actions? Who cares if I could've been factionless? Of all people, why does he care?

These thoughts race through my mind as I storm off to find a drinking fountain. After a few minutes of wandering aimlessly, I eventually stumbled upon one. I angrily unscrew the lid of my water bottle and shove it beneath the faucet, watching as it fills to the top. I try to calm down; I tell myself it isn't that big of a deal and that I have more important things to worry about. I screw the lid of my bottle on and head back to the training room. It takes me a few wrong turns to find my way, but I eventually find the hallway from before and step into the room just as Four calls for the room's attention.

"Next, we'll be working on hand-to-hand combat," he explains. I hurry to the corner and drop off my water bottle, the others already gathered around Four. I join them and peer around the figures in front of me until he falls into my line of sight. "This skill is what you'll be most evaluated on, so pay attention," he waits for some nods then continues, "Get into groups of two." I glance over at Christina and she nods at me, a smile tugging at her lips. I return the smile and hurry over. After everyone's been sorted into pairs, Four instructs us to spread out and stand about five feet apart. He walks us through what our fighting stance should look like, explains a couple of defensive and offensive moves, and then instructs us to begin. The stance feels awkward and my throws feel weak, but I try to stay optimistic. This is definitely not my strong suit.

"So... what's going on with you and Peter?" Christina asks suddenly.

"What?" I ask, the question catching me off guard, "If this is some weird attempt to get into my head, it's working."

"No, I'm serious. I saw him follow you out when you went to fill up your bottle," she replies.

"No, there's—nothing going on between us. He's an asshole, he was just bothering me per usual," I respond dismissively.

"Well, I mean, what did he say?" Christina probes.

"It doesn't matter," I snap, my tone turning sour. Of course, I know something is off about his behavior, I'm not stupid, but this isn't what I need to be focused on. Christina nods hesitantly and we focus back in.

***

About a half hour passes, and as we're about to wrap up for a water break, I spot Eric enter the room. He whispers something to Four that prompts him to shake his head, but he makes the announcement anyway.

"Sparing matches start in 10 minutes," he calls out.

"What?" Christina blurts out, "We've been training for less than an hour and you're throwing us into actual fights already?"

"Yes," Eric interjects, a smug smile on his face. I let out a concealed sigh, trying to focus my thoughts. I remind myself that most of us have no clue what we're doing, I just need to keep a level head and remember to use my agility as an advantage. Christina and I review a few punches and blocks before Eric calls for the room's attention again. "Gather around! We have the matches written up front!" he yells. Christina and I pick up our water bottles, our chests heaving, and hurry over to Eric. A chill runs down my spine as I peer around the figures in front of me in search of my name.

"Oh, shit..." Will remarks to my side.

"What is it? Who'd you get?" I ask urgently.

"Tris, you got—" he replies before I suddenly spot the board.

"Peter..." I finish his sentence, groaning a bit as hopelessness seeps into my tone.

"It's Eric; he's doing this to get back at you for earlier," Christina remarks bitterly. I glance across the room to Peter who's bent slightly as Molly whispers something to him. His face is impossible to read and it intensifies an already sunken pit in my stomach. "Fuck me," Christina continues, "I got the tank," she frowns.

"The what?" I ask, unable to prevent a chuckle from escaping my lips despite our predicament. She nods toward the board and I search for her name. Along the way, I find Will who's been paired with Al, then Christina, whose name is scrawled next to Molly's. Before I can offer her reassurance, Eric calls for the first match.

"Molly and Christina are up first!" he shouts. I usher a hushed "good luck" as she starts toward the ring. Molly parts from Peter's side and mimics Christina's actions, the two eyeing each other warily. Molly immediately falls into a fighting stance and Christina follows suit. They circle each other momentarily before Molly charges at Christina; she narrowly avoids her, causing Molly to stumble a bit as she grapples with the force sending her forward.

"Watch it, big girl," Christina teases as Molly catches herself. Molly's face turns bright red and I know it's not from embarrassment; I can tell she's fuming as she turns to face her opponent. Molly lurches at Christina without warning, stutter-stepping as she throws a punch square at her jaw. Christina's eyes widen far too late as Molly's fist connects, causing her head to loll to the side as her body ragdolls. A loud thud comes from the mat as her body makes contact with the floor.

"What was that, twiggy?" Molly sneers, a sickly sadistic expression plastered on her face. She approaches Christina's limp form as she weakly attempts to pull herself back. Molly hovers over her barely conscious opponent with an arrogant smirk on her face; she grabs a handful of her hair, tilting her head back to look her in the eyes before slamming her face down into the stiff mat over and over. I cringe as blood pours from Christina's nose, just conscious enough to feel all of it.

"Fuck, I can't watch this," I mutter, forcing my gaze away momentarily. I feel Will's arm wrap around my shoulder and pull me close. I refuse to look up even after Christina starts sobbing. I hear commotion then a loud groan from Molly; as I finally return my gaze, I see Christina at one end of the ring and Molly standing unevenly on her feet at the other. Christina wipes blood from her nose as she attempts to get to her feet, but Molly spots her in her peripheral and pulls her gaze from her leg, quickly hobbling over to her.

"N-No! Stop!" Christina cries, "I-I'm done..." she coughs, bringing Molly to a halt; the pale girl looks to Eric for confirmation. Eric glances from Molly to Christina, his expression an exaggerated look of concern.

"You're done?" he asks. Christina nods hesitantly, standing unsteadily on her feet. "Alright," he remarks, "Hey, let's all take a break. How's that sound?" he calls out, shifting his gaze from one initiate to the next. He nods briefly before approaching Christina and offering her an arm for support.

We exit the training room as we follow Eric; hushed mutters break out amongst the initiates, shared looks of confusion adorning the crowd. As the cavern opens up and we disperse into the Pit, maintaining a loose crowd around Eric and Christina at the front, Eric adjusts his grip on Christina and throws her over the edge. A gasp erupts from the crowd as a scream tears through Christina's lungs and I rush forward instinctively. A strong hand grabs my wrist from behind and I glare back at the shadowed figure.

"Don't," Peter mutters, giving me a look. My expression softens as I think back to our argument earlier, and how his concern shook me a bit. I oblige, but not without pushback, forcibly yanking my arm from his grasp. I turn to face the scene, a nervous pit in my stomach.

"Grab the ledge," Eric states firmly, "or don't." Christina desperately reaches for a handhold as he lets go of her wrist, her chest pumping. "You're going to hang over this chasm for five minutes. If you don't, you're out. If you do, I'll forget your cowardice." Christina nods hurriedly as she swallows thickly, Al eyeing his watch attentively. "Time starts now," Eric declares.

Christina holds strong for the first few minutes, her jaw set and a determined look in her eye. Spray from the crashing water below coats her every 20 seconds or so and I can tell it throws her off a bit each time. At the four-minute mark, Al grows antsy as Christina's grip weakens. A particularly rough wave sends a gallon of water flying up and Christina loses grip in one hand; she cries out as she desperately tries to grab for the ledge, but slick metal makes it impossible. Her face strains as her muscles begin to give out and time inches forward at a snail's pace.

"Time!" Al shouts as he hurries over to her, Will and myself following suit—Peter not fighting me this time.

"No, leave her. She has to get up on her own," Eric demands.

"No, she doesn't," Al sneers as I reach over the edge, "She did what you asked," he states firmly as Will helps me pull her up. Eric doesn't fight him any longer, but I can tell Al's lack of obedience irks him.

"Show's over!" Eric yells, "Back to the training room!" The initiates disperse as Will and I pull Christina to the side and Al helps to steady her on her feet.

"Fuck, I think my match is next," I sputter.

"It's alright, I've got her. We'll take her to the infirmary," Will replies, his hands supporting Christina at the waist. I give him a firm nod and turn to head back. Just as I begin to quicken my pace, Al calls from behind me.

"Hey, Tris?" I turn to face him, my thoughts scattered, "Kick his ass for me, okay?" He smiles weakly. My face lights up softly and I return the smile before hurrying off.

***

Eric declares the commencement of the second fight as I throw open the doors of the training room. "Peter and Tris are up next!" he yells. All eyes fall on me as Peter starts towards the center of the room and I rush forward. He steps up onto the mat and settles himself in a fighting stance. I mimic his actions and mirror his stance weakly, feeling uncomfortable in my own skin.

"You alright, Stiff? You look like you're about to cry," he teases, a smug smirk on his face, "I might go easy on you if you do," he continues, his concern earlier an absurd jump from his demeanor now. I let exaggerated anger show on my face and throw a feint punch his way before bringing my leg up to kick his side. He dodges into my kick, which pulls a small groan from his lips as he stumbles to the side. I foolishly let him recover and focus closely on his movements as we circle each other.

"Stop playing with each other!" Eric yells abruptly, clearly antsy to see me get plumbed after the incident with Al and helping Christina in the Pit. Peter suddenly lurches forward while I'm distracted, grabbing me by the wrist and whipping me across the arena. I lose my balance and fall to the ground, the wind knocked from my lungs. I scurry to my feet as he encroaches and quickly dodge to the right as he reaches for me. I flank him, using this opportunity to strike him in the side. He grunts and I can tell he's growing frustrated. I assume he thought I'd be an easier opponent and that ignites a fire within me. As he whips around, my fist cracks across his cheekbone and he stumbles back. My knuckles ache and I quickly shake them out. Peter holds the side of his face, the skin beneath already beginning to bruise, and glares up at me through hooded eyes.

"Something wrong, Peter?" I sneer, unable to recognize my voice as venom consumes it. Something changes in his expression as he settles himself, my stomach turning as I notice how disassociated he looks. He must've hardly been trying before because his movements suddenly grow more precise and I begin to lose my edge, sloppily taking hits I know I should be able to avoid. He lurches forward, and despite my exhaustion, I grapple his arm, twisting it behind his back and holding him down at an awkward angle. He grunts as he struggles to break free, though it's not long before he slips out. He grabs ahold of my shoulder and holds me still as he drives his fist into my ribs over and over again.

He wraps a hand over the back of my thigh and lifts me with ease, tossing me to the other side of the arena. I land awkwardly on my arm and the wind is knocked from my lungs; I weakly try to get to my feet, but I can't find my breath. He approaches me, looking down at my form as I attempt to pull myself back with one arm. His expression suddenly softens, one flooded with guilt as his eyebrows tug inward slightly. I follow his gaze upward as he looks to Eric who offers him nothing but a firm nod; I return my gaze to Peter as his expression solidifies and, without faltering, he brings his foot down on me and the lights go out.

***

Suddenly and all at once: aching. A terrible, slow, aching pain. Everywhere. A groan escapes my lips as I come to, my eyelids slowly lifting. I glance around the dark room, my eyes quickly adjusting to the dim lighting; hospital beds line the walls equal distance apart. Slowly, my memories come flooding back; the last thing I can recall is a large strong arm lifting me and the serene smell of lemongrass. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a tall figure standing in the doorway. It's hard to make out their facial features, but I notice the figure's hair gleaming even in the room's darkness and suddenly recognize the person standing in front of me.

"Peter?" I croak, my eyes narrowing in confusion as I try to make out his expression.

"Damn, I really fucked you up, huh?" he replies, his familiar teasing tone somewhat comforting. He stands with his shoulder resting against the door frame and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Har har," I remark, my face aching. My eyebrows pull in suddenly as a twinge of pain filters through my body. He notices and, despite the room's lighting, I can make out a look of worry in his expression. "What time is it?" I quickly ask, trying to ignore how weak his pity makes me feel.

"Just a bit after dinner," he replies, "I thought about bringing you something but wasn't sure if you'd be hungry," I see a flash of regret on his face as if he suddenly wished he hadn't told me that.

"I'm pretty sure I'd vomit," I reply, suddenly realizing how nauseous I feel at the mention of food. He chuckles lightly and, if I wasn't so put off with his sudden interest in me, it might've put me at ease; but, I am, so my expression remains taunt as I ask him another question: "Why are you here?" He falls silent for a moment, seemingly contemplating whether he should tell the truth or give me bullshit.

"I wanted to see the fruits of my labor," he replies disingenuously. I shoot him a look and he quickly corrects himself, "I'm not sure to be fair; I wanted to make sure you were doing alright or whatever. I think I feel bad?"

"You think?" I laugh weakly as pain shoots through my chest, "So, is this the part where you apologize?"

"I don't like you that much, Stiff," he replies, a small smirk pulling at his lips as amusement plays on his face. Silence falls comfortably between us and, for a moment, I wish we could stay like this for a while. Then, he speaks and the mirage is broken. He's my competition. He's been nothing but an asshole to my friends and I since we made our choices at the Choosing Ceremony. He beat me unconscious a little over 3 hours ago. "Anyway, you better get some rest," This is all just a shitty attempt to get into my head.

I nod and he returns the gesture before hesitantly turning to leave. I watch as the dark hallway consumes him and my prior thoughts cloud my sleepless mind. I try to relax; it doesn't matter, none of this matters. Nothing has changed, I just need to focus on initiation and keep training. After I push Peter from my thoughts, I close my eyes as my breathing slows and slowly drift off to sleep.

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𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

Holy shit, this chapter took so many revisions. Sorry about another long chapter; I try to keep them around 10 minutes, but I don't want to end on a cliffhanger or weird note. As always, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think; I always appreciate your comments.