~Three years later~
I don't want to open my eyes. In a way, I already know where I am because I can hear the rolling of small wheels, and the shaking of the large metal table that I'm on as it's being carted to somewhere. Soon the cart stops and I open my eyes just enough to look and see that I am restrained. Jeanine is a liar. She will do something to me.
I strain against the leather that binds me to the table. They dig further into my wrists with every thrust upward. Nothing happens except for some pain in my arms. I open my eyes. The restrains are still intact and my wrists are red. Something suddenly boils inside of me. I scream in frustration and fury, trying to violently get my arms out of the straps. I bump my head against the metal table when my anger is drained.
The cart soon stops in front of two large double doors. I open my eyes, only to see Jeanine walk out. She ignores my presence by not even glimpsing at me, and instead communicates with the guards. I bite my lower lip in anticipation. What will she do to me? I think for a moment before deciding to ask her myself. "What will you do to me?" I ask with a scratchy voice.
Jeanine stops her conversation and looks down onto me. She walks towards me with a professional air, before leaning against the table. Her sharp watery grey eyes bore into mine, and I feel insecurity and fear. Jeanine can be very unpredictable, and it might not be for the better if she probably wouldn't mind my death. I keep a small portion of my lip, clenched against my teeth.
She doesn't smile, or talk; Jeanine just stares at me for what seems like forever. I begin to count the seconds. One...two...three...four, five, six, seven, eight- "Wheel her in," Jeanine orders out of the blue. She never lifts her gaze away from me until after the cart is pushed forward. Dread and worry suddenly fills any empty spaces inside of me. It floods my soul. My lungs feel like they are slowly caving in. And I am stuck on this table, powerless, and doomed.
The table stops in the center of the room. Jeanine rolls up to me in a skinny chair, and smiles. I crane my neck left to look at her. "Liar!" I whisper in a harsh tone. Jeanine continues to smile stupidly back at me. She knows something that I do not.
"Now that won't help you now, will it," She starts. "You are still on this table young lady, and you will still be used just as any other divergent. Because you are no different from any other one of your kind; only here to destroy the faction system!"
An uneasiness grows inside of me. There is no telling what Jeanine will do to me now. I try to look apologetic. "I'm not like that Jeanine! Please listen to me!" Tears slowly swarm my vision.
Jeanine crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at me while shaking her head. "I can't let a divergent like you go," She scowls. "Not with your impurities." Jeanine stands up from her seat and looks down at me again. She seems so much more taller, stronger, and more intimidating from my angle. "Inject serum 157," Jeanine orders before walking away. I try to follow her movements with my eyes, but soon scientists crowd around me in white lab coats, and my fears become a reality. They attach various wires to my arms and head, and virtually nearly every part of me. My heart thumps loudly, my palms sweat with anticipation, and tears threaten to leave my eyes. Afterwards the majority of them leave with the exception of just two. Suddenly, I feel a painful prick on my arm, and the light in the room begins to fade into darkness.
~•~
I groggily wake up on one of the many and commonly cracked, and destroyed roads in the city. My muscles ache, especially my left arm. How did I get here? I notice two figures in the distance, walking toward me. Jeanine wouldn't let me go, would she? The silhouettes near until I can see that they are holding objects. My heart begins to beat loud like a drum. Within a few minutes, the shadows are only meters away and I notice the objects in their hands. A crowbar, and a knife; Classic factionless weapons. The people, look factionless. One is a man, and the other a woman, but they both look alike with tattered clothing and grizzly, greasy, hair.
At just less than seven meters away from me, two piles appear in front of me. On my left, a collection of brand new clothing from all of the factions-Erudite, Dauntless, Amity, Candor, and Abnegation. On my right suddenly lies a hand gun. Uneasiness squirms inside of me. This is definatly a simulation; objects cannot appear out of thin air. I also now have a choice. I can choose the handgun that I know how to shoot, and maim the two factionless people. Yet I can also give the factionless people the clothing, and hope to God that they won't kill me.
I can clear both the clothes, and gun from my environment if I plan my actions. The man and woman are meters away and hold grim expressions. As if they know that what they are doing is wrong. Dropping to the ground, I stretch my fingers in preparation. I glance up to see the factionless people closer now. Focusing on the objects, I quickly grasp both the clothing and the gun. A strong and invisible force tries to tug them away from me, but I convince myself that I need both the clothing and the handgun. Simulations are mental, and are based on individual attitudes towards an object, event, place, or person.
After some time, I get to keep the set of outfits and gun. I check the chamber of the pistol. Conveniently enough, there's only one bullet in the chamber. I lock it into place. I will need to work with what I have, and Jeanine isn't making things any easier. I consider whether I would have had another bullet if I hadn't taken the clothes.
The factionless people are within a few feet away. Without hesitation, I lift the gun up and shoot the man in the head. His figure halts and flies almost backwards with the force from the bullet. His body lands on the ground with a loud thud, and the sound seems to waver in the air since there is not a single soul around but possibly mine. That woman does not exist, and it would be fair to say that in this state I don't either. Only my conciousness controls my environment, and whatever Jeanine decides to throw in my path.
I continue up the barren street after giving the sobbing woman the clothes. None of the signs at the intersections read the names of roads. I continue up the cracked and deteriorating path. A collection of dead leaves swirls by in a circle.
Out of nowhere, my next step makes me fall and I plummet onto the ground. When I get up though, I find myself in a grey filled room. From my faction textbook I can recall it to be an Abnegation bedroom. The furniture is simple; a wooden and square nightstand that holds the only source of light for the room, grey bedsheets that are perfectly made, a wooden-doored closet on the other side of the room that holds the same, grey outfit for seven days. I sit down on the bed. Everything is quiet and solmn. The Abnegation house even appears to be empty.
A heart stopping scream suddenly echoes in the distance. I look around for the window. I know that there must be one somewhere. My eyes are draw to a small wooden framed window in the corner of the room. It sits opposite of the bed and would be impossible to get to without furniture. I take the only movable one in the room, and prop the nightstand against the wall so it is directly underneath the glass aperture. Once steady, I hop onto the nightstand and am shocked at what I see...and yet I shouldn't. The scream is from a Lyra clad in Abnegation grey, and she kneels in front of Sharon. The Dauntless leader holds a smug smile as she aims her gun at Lyra's head. My best friend has tears that stream down her face. They move with the contours of her jaw, nose, lips, and once they've dripped off of her face like raindrops falling from a leaf, they follow her collar bone. "Kristen!" she cries out. If I wanted to, I could save her. But this is a simulation, and right now Fake Lyra is the least of my problems.
The sound of shoes on wood suddenly emits from the stairs of the house, and the Abnegation certainly don't wear stilettoes. I know exactly who is coming for me, and I do not look forward to meeting them. Out of the dark doorway appears Jeanine. She looks so real, but her smile is not. "You can save your friend now," she assures.
"There's no need," I reply innocently. She nods, still holding a knowing smirk.
"Are you sure about that? I'm giving you another chance."
"Yes."
A sudden scream suddenly echoes throughout the area along with a gun shot. It sends a shiver down my spine and yet I still turn to the window. I desperately grapple at the edge of the nightstand and window sill as I climb up. I don't care if Jeanine is here. I need to see what happened; something tells me that it isn't good.
When I glance outside to see our dilapidated city, I see the world in monochrome, or maybe it just seems like that when someone you care about is shot. Then again, this is a simulation. Lyra's body lies lifelessly on the cold ground below the house. Soon, she will be as frigid as the gravel road. Lyra is officially dead and it makes my heart ache and tears come to my eyes. No, Fake Lyra is dead. Real Lyra is probably alive. I sigh and wipe the water from my eyes. I can feel a steamy fury replaces my sadness as I stare at the scarlet wetness coming from Fake Lyra's body. The color only helps. I quickly swerve around to face Jeanine, but she is gone. I never heard her leave or even move, but her blue isn't anywhere in the room. Jeanine's words echo in my head. You can save your friend now.