𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒, divergent

⁰¹, APTITUDE FOR SELFISHNESS

But, no. She was Abnegation. She was hiding in the shadows so they don't get you. She was silent. She was letting others pass. She was everything ingrained in her head, and not the things trapped in a golden birdcage.

The days always went on slowly, but today seemed downright painful. Classes dragged on, but Marlowe could confidently say not a single jab had bothered her because by the time she was sitting in wait for her test, she was done. There would be no more schooling, no more bullies and jealously and silence.

She'd be free.

"From Abnegation; Mary Lewis and Marlowe Prior."

Marlowe stood on shaky legs, entering a mirrored room without any visible fear. Her test administer was a tall man, with a tuft of ginger hair. She had to hide her excitement at the sight of his tattoos— how wonderful to meet a Dauntless for the first time. Really meet one.

"This'll be quick and painless, I swear," He smiled a clumsy smile, readying a machine that made the girl only slightly nervous, "I'm Colson."

"Marlowe."

"I got that, from the. . ." Colson gestured to a sheet of paper on the cold metal surface, pressing an electrode to the brunette's forehead gently as she laughed, "But, it's nice to meet your acquaintance. Not everybody's so chatty with Dauntless."

"Don't see why not, you're, like, the most interesting people in this place."

Colson smiled.

"You're a nice kid, Marlowe," He held out a vial of clear liquid, "Can't say I'd be upset if you were Dauntless."

Marlowe took the vial and let it drain down her throat quickly, wanting nothing more than to keep proving herself to Colson. And it seemed to be working, because he nodded and mumbled something about how she was the first without a question. But before Marlowe could bask in this, her eyes pressed closed and she was somewhere else entirely.

The cafeteria. Two baskets. A knife, and a large chunk of cheese.

"Choose."

The voice echoed in her head as she stared at the options. If she were put into a dangerous situation and need the knife, but chose cheese, she'd die. But, if she were put into a safe situation and chose the knife, Marlowe simply wouldn't use it.

The weapon felt foreign in her soft, giving hands. Marlowe nervously re-adjusted her grip, scanning the room for anything. As she completed the circle, the baskets were gone, and behind the long table she stood at the end of, was a snarling dog.

A snarling dog that was very quickly beginning to pursue her.

Now, Marlowe knew she had the stupid knife, but she had no idea how to use the stupid knife, so she ran. But, very quickly, she discovered the feeling of being chased, the dread of it, was far worse than facing the horror.

So, Marlowe veered around the edge of a table, crouching behind it. She held out the knife, point away from her, and squinted her eyes so they were nearly closed, her eyelashes distorting the sight in front of her.

She felt the dog's impact, it's limp head rest on her forearm. Marlowe very quickly let go of the knife handle, stood, turned away from the horror scene, and threw up.

And, as soon as she was done, she found herself in a new area.

A man sat silently on a lone bus seat, brandishing a newspaper headlined with 'MURDER STRIKES AGAIN!' for Marlowe to see.

"Do you know this man?"

Marlowe furrowed her brows at his sudden question, following his finger to the photo. He looked familiar. Not that any name came to mind, but, yes, Marlowe knew him. Yes, of course. But, as she looked to meet the man's eyes, dread engulfed her.