Divergent No War

Chapter 1 part 2

Eric appeared to be a perfect Dauntless to some, an Erudite snake to others, but to me he has always been a drunken stranger. I didn't know anything about him, just that before he transferred to Dauntless, he and my mom were dating and she ended up pregnant. When she contacted him and asked him to take me, he refused. He ignored us for years, until one day, he showed up at our apartment and took me to a secret building where he had set up a training center. From that day on, he would wait for me there every day after school and I would train. He always drank a lot, which seemed contrary to his usual personality, but I learned quickly that he has many layers.

When I was training, he was always quick to criticize and even quicker to beat. Any show of weakness was unacceptable. I had to go through several simulations in the Erudite compound to purge my mind of fears and train my reactions to simulations.

When I was 12, Max mysteriously died. It looked like suicide, and nobody would object with Eric as the new representative. Peter was his lackey and almost as brutal.

After dinner, I went to Eric's apartment to wait for him. It was a well established ritual. When he finally arrived, it was obvious that he had already had many drinks. In his hand, he was still holding a bottle. I trembled as he strode towards me.

"What the hell was that!" He threw the empty bottle towards me. It shattered at my feet. I cringed back and tried to stammer an explanation.

"I was just trying to make it seem natural." I tried, knowing that it was worthless to make excuses.

"You were trying?" His voice was cruel and mocking. I nodded.

"Well, this is what I think trying is worth!" I didn't have time to brace for impact, so his first blow to my cheek knocked me off balance. I landed in the pile of glass, which opened several small cuts on my hands and knees. I struggled to my feet, knowing that staying down would just anger him more. The only way to get him to stop was to either hang on until he got tired, or pass out. Passing out only postponed his wrath, though-- he would find some other way to finish the abuse later. I was well practiced in our little dance, and made sure to never stay down long enough for him to kick me.

Once, I had been too tired to get up, but I didn't loose consciencness. Eric had kicked me over and over until one of my ribs gave an ominous cracking noise. He stopped then because he didn't want to have to answer any questions at the hospital. He's never gone that far since, but there have been times when he's come close. The beating was relatively short, as I had my first day of initiation in the morning. When he had finished, he pushed me out and slammed the door behind me. I limped back to the dorms, and fell asleep, trying not to aggravate any of my sore limbs.

In the morning, Four came in and woke us up. My side, limbs, and back were dappled with bruises. The cuts on my hands and knees stung. As he was leaving, I saw Four give me a concerned look. I knew about his past. His father, who was much like mine, had tried to control him, had beat him, which is why he never accepted leadership. I suddenly respect Four for his bravery. He had the courage to defy his father and leave. I did not have that courage, and now I was stuck with the man who made my life hell.

I ate a muffin on my way to the training center. I know what will happen when I get there. We will fight. Luckily, I have a lot of experience taking a beating.

When I get to the ring, I survey the other initiates. My gaze is calculated, an Erudite stare. I can tell who is going to be a challenge and who will likely be cut. I make strategies for how to beat each person. Jab to the throat, punch to the gut, knee in the groin. I suddenly realize that I am thinking like my father. That is the most ironic and painful part of his manipulation-- what he wants me to do is what I need to do to survive here. I can't break his hold, without becoming faction-less.