Knife Throwing

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When we arrived back to the compound at three in the morning, let’s just say I didn’t waste any time going to bed. I was hoping I’d get to sleep for a while, that Eric would let us sleep and only start training after lunch but I had no such luck.

Eric was angry about his defeat in capture the flag and warned us that if we arrived late at training the next morning that’d we would have to do laps the whole time and if ever we stopped running, we’d get kicked out of Dauntless.

So, of course, no one was late the next morning. Nobody really wanted to see if Eric was joking or not about his threat very early this morning.

When Peter and I entered the training room together, there was a table beside the door covered in knives and targets were situated on one side of the room.

“Oh, knife throwing,” Molly says as she trudges into the training room after us. “How fun.”

I glance at Peter quickly and see him looking everywhere but straight in front of him. He looks left, right, diagonal and even behind him but never once in front.

Frowning, I decide to look at the one place he’s avoiding. And right there, right in the center of the room stands Eric, all tense and rigid.

Alright, forget what I had said before about Eric. He’s not just angry, he’s absolutely frustrated.

After everyone entered the training room before eight, Eric started his little speech. “Tomorrow will be the last day of stage one. You will resume fighting then.” He looked at all of us with an icy glare. “Today, you’ll be learning how to aim. Everyone pick up three knives. And pay attention while Four demonstrates the correct technique for throwing them.”

None of us moved yet, mostly because we’re not sure if we should and if we aren’t but we do move that Eric will become even more frustrated than he already is.

“Now!” He yells and that’s when we all rush to get out knives. I was the closest to the table so I grab some first before walking to Four. I see Eric looking at me as I walk to where Four is standing. Soon enough, Peter arrives beside me and Eric’s eyes shift to somewhere else. Wow, I guess their fight was pretty serious last night.

I shrugged off the thought and paid attention to our instructor. He’s about to throw the knife and I watch his position, the way his arm moves as he throws his first knife. I keep observing his technique and he hits the target each time he throws.

When he’s done, Eric’s cold glare leaves Four and moves to us. “Line up!” he orders and we obey.

I place myself beside Drew and Peter, grab a knife in my right hand while the two others stay in my left, aim and throw. Unfortunately, the knife bounces off the side of the target and falls to the floor.

“Alright,” I mumble and take another knife. This time, I go slowly. I practice throwing the knife without letting go of it before finally being satisfied and letting the knife fly to its target. To my great relieve, it hits the target but unfortunately it doesn’t stick in it.

“Good throw,” I hear someone say behind me and when I look, I realize that it’s Eric. “Just get more force into your throw and it should hit the target properly.”

I smile warmly at him. “Okay, thank you.”

He simply nods before he starts walking off again, examining the technique of everyone else. Though he doesn’t say a word so it’s either because they are good or they suck and he doesn’t know how to correct them.

I’m going to go with the latter.

Before I can throw my third and last knife, I hear Peter call out something. “I think the Stiff’s taken too many hits to the head.” He gives me a little wink before looking at Tris again. “Hey Stiff! Remember what a knife is?”

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