𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 a girl who has only ever known a life of peace finds herself at the heart of a revolution, thrusting her into a world of death and destruction. when all that had once made sense suddenly falls apart before her very eyes, she is force...
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WHERE STAGE ONE WAS overtly menacing, showcasing how far each and every one of us will go to make it in Dauntless, stage two is more subtle, taunting us with the idea of what we could possibly be facing behind closed doors. Not even the Dauntless-borns know what we'll be up against upon being called from our seats — and perhaps that's what makes it just so terrifying. Fear of the unknown is a powerful concept.
We've all been sat in a dark hallway since eight o'clock, left to our own devices as we wait for our turns to be called up. The occasional conversation has been sparked every half hour or so, but most of them have ended in some kind of argument between the transfers and the Dauntless-born, especially while Lynn had been present. She was taken away about twenty minutes ago, though, so it's been quiet ever since.
For the past fifteen minutes, I've been attempting to recreate the braids Christina did on me for Visiting Day, but no matter how hard I try to concentrate, my fingers always forget where they are and end up messing everything up. I'm already on edge due to the fact that I can feel Peter's eyes on me like a burning laser, incessant and irritating, but it isn't until my fifth attempt at the braid that I give up and angrily rip the loops apart, managing to take a few strands of hair with me. Great, at this rate I'll be bald before they even call my name.
The door opens, and Four steps out for a moment. "Peter."
I try to keep my eyes down as he gets up from his seat and heads toward the mysterious room. Since I left him back in the city yesterday, I've managed to avoid being in his direct presence and have withheld from saying anything further. Though after our conversation, I don't think there's much that could be said now regardless. What's done is done.
I hear Four step to the side, his shoes scuffing against the floor, and at the very last minute I find my gaze lifting, only to lock eyes with Peter momentarily before he steps into the room and disappears. There had been something to the look he was giving me, but I can't quite place it... though analyzing it and dwelling on it further probably won't do me any good anyway.
I lose track of time after that, trying not to psych myself out with what lies in that room. We've all heard the whimpering, and the crying, and sometimes the screaming of the people who have gone before us, so it's hard not to overthink.
I spend so much time reminding myself not to think about it though, that I end up startled when Four emerges and calls my name. I stare at him for a moment, waiting for my mind to catch up, before jumping up quickly and stumbling towards the door. Drew tries to trip me at the last second, but I just kick his ankle with the tip of my boot.
