Stay Away | Eric Coulter [1]

seventeen

    It's been a few nights now since my talk with Zeke. Still, sleep comes and goes. It almost feels like I'm playing a game of catch with it. Some nights I win, and most nights, I lay in bed wide awake and staring at the damn ugly ceiling.

Today was one of those days where sleep was being a sneaky little bastard, evading me no matter how hard I try to catch some Zs.

Rolling off of my lumpy mattress, I change out of my night shorts for a pair of sweats and throw on my boots.

The soles of my shoe scuff against the floor as I set my feet down, the squeaking sound that it makes sounding too loud in the dead silent room and I curse under my breath, looking up to see Drew already giving me the stink-eye.

Ignoring the dude, I make my way out of the room, keeping my footsteps as quiet as possible and make my way to the Pit once again.

Not being able to sleep sucks, but the extra practice I've been putting in is starting to pay off and my name has been making a steady ascend on the rankings board. Regardless, combat is still a bit of a struggle when I'm put up against one of the bigger guys and I've been meaning to ask if Uriah would be willing to help me with some more training in that aspect.

The Pit was mostly empty when I enter, save for a couple of older Dauntless members chatting in the corner, looking a little tipsy.

As with any other night, I head straight for the punching bags that lined the far wall.

"This is the third night in a row I've seen you here so far," Tobias's voice startles me as I'm about to throw my first punch.

I clutch my chest in shock, willing my racing heart to calm down, "Holy shit, Toby. Where the fuck did you even come from?"

Tobias's face shutters into a dark expression and he glances around as if he's trying to see if anybody heard me, "It's Four, now."

I roll my eyes at him, "Whatever you say, Four." I give Tobias my back in favour of facing the bags.

"Trouble sleeping, V?" My brother leans back against the punching back beside me with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Of course, not. I'm just here for fun. What better way than you spend the night abusing your knuckles?" I reply with as much sarcasm as I could muster, "Also, why is it that you're allowed to call me V but I have to call you Four?"

He's silent for a minute, looking at me with narrowed eyes as if he could see right through me just as he did when we were kids.

"Your lack of sleep doesn't have anything to do with the level of physical violence that goes on here, does it?"

His words make me pause. It bothers me, yes. Every hit I've endured reminds me of Marcus, and every attack I've doled out on someone makes me feel like I'm just as big of a monster as Marcus is even though I'm well aware that most of the things are taught to us for self-defence.

Tobias's eyes soften when I don't answer and he cocks his head inquisitively, "V?"

He lets out a sigh and takes a step towards me, "Look, V. I know I've been a little distant lately-"

I snort at his comments, cutting him off. "A little?"

My brother shoots me a flat look and continues as if I haven't spoken, "You can still talk to me. You know that, right?"

"We are talking."

Tobias lets out yet another exasperated sigh, "You know what I mean, you little brat."

"If I'm a brat then you're a jerk," I shoot back.

For the first time since I've gotten here, Tobias cracks into a smile.