That night, I dream that Christina hangs from the railing again - except by only her toes this time. But it's different - because Caleb's hanging too. They tell me I can only save one of them. I try to save Caleb - but he falls before I can. And there is a betrayed look on Christina's face.
I wake up soaked in a puddle of my own sweat and shaky from the dream. I'm not too bothered by the nightmare - I have grown accustomed to them, and I prefer this over my usual nightmares.
Without spending another a minute thinking of the ghastly nightmare, I had, I walk to the girls' bathroom to shower and change. When I return to the room, I find my bed is a complete mess. The word "Stiff" is spray-painted across my mattress in red. The word is written smaller along the bed frame, and again on my pillow.
I should be angry, but I'm just grateful for the distraction.
Peter is standing behind me, whistly as he fluffs his pillow. It's hard to hate him. Not because I like him - no, he's a pathetic excuse for a human being, but he looks so... kind. His eyebrows turn upward naturally, and he has a wide, white smile.
As pretty as he may be, he's still pure evil.
'Nice decorations,' he says. I nod blankly.
'I supposed they are since you chose them yourself,' I say as I rip the sheet from the mattress, throwing it in a pile on the floor. 'I can't thank you enough.' My voice is filled with irony.
'Your Stiff friend has got some decorations of her own, too,' he says lightly while I pull off the pillowcases from my pillows.
'How delightful,' I say, my voice heavy with sarcasm.
I know what he's trying to do. I know he's trying to make me angry. Get a reaction. And usually, he would succeed in doing so. Not today. I'm just too - tired. Way to tired to deal with him.
'Yes, I'm sure I'm sure I am,' says Peter. I turn around to face him, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. I must be really tired but -
'Are you trying to insult me, or flirt?'
'Why can't it be both?' With that, he leaves the room, leaving me very confused. For a second, I just stare at the open door, before facing my bed again stripping it of its last piece of graffiti. I'm just glad it isn't permanent.
Once I have put everything to wash, I head to the training where I see all of my friends whispering together in a tight-knit group. When they see me approaching, they immediately stop.
'What?' I ask tiredly. Will looks at me, unsure of whether he should share or not.
'Have you...' he hesitates, taking a deep breath. 'Have you checked the chalkboard?'
I shake my head, before turning to look. I will have to fight today since I had gotten a day off. Annoying since I'm feeling particularly sluggish today. All of my tiredness disappears when I look at the my chalkboard, my jaw dropping.
No! Not him! Anyone but him!
'Edward!' I slump down against the wall, trying not to wallow in self-pity which is proving to be very difficult with my current situation. 'Edward who's been studying hand-to-hand combat since he was twelve?'
'He actually started when he was ten -' starts Will, but he is cut off by a glare from Christina, which causes him to smile sheepishly at me. 'At least the fight will be over quickly?'
'Gee, thanks,' I say, sarcastically.
What is with my luck today? First Peter completely vandalizes my bed, and now I have to fight Edward? Tall, scary, Erudite Edward?
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Urgent
FanfictionThe Prior family had two children. Caleb and Beatrice Prior. But what if one of their closest friends had died? What if along with their own children, they raised another girl. Their goddaughter. Ariadne Graves was Divergent. And she had no idea wha...
