✧∘ଂ ࿐ ཾ
[ ix. nine ! ]
❛ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀssɪᴏɴ ɪs ᴡᴇᴀᴋɴᴇss, ɴᴏᴛ sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ ❜
TARA STRUGGLED TO GET THE KNIFE to pierce the targets where she wanted them to, and it drove her outright insane watching them hit the board outside the blue figure, or hear them clink against the stone floor. She was aiming for the spot inside the black circle on the illuminated figure of a human body, though her knives never hit there. It infuriated her, watching them end up in the wrong place, or god forbid: the floor.
With a glance to her left, she watched as Tris threw another knife, it landed next to her previous one inside the circle. Tara clenched her jaw shut and turned to her own board, exhaling deeply whilst trying to ignore the judging stare coming from Eric.
She felt his presence behind her and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Keep trying," he sneered before staggering down the line of Initiates.
Tara held the knife, twisting it in the light as if it could slice up the rays of fluorescent light, her expression exaggerated by the dark shadows around her eyes. She could already see Eric in a pool of darkening blood and her face split into a grin that arced in a sickly way, never making it to her almost sunken eyes.
If she cast her eyes to the other side of her, she saw Edward lean over and whisper something in Myra's ear. Tara sucked air through her teeth and her gaze flickered down to her hands for a split second, ignoring the annoyance bubbling within her like a volcano near eruption. She felt the skin in between her eyebrows twitch as she tugged at her lower lip. She couldn't help but notice how close they had become during their Initiation, where Edward went, so did Myra. She wasn't jealous — at least that's what she told herself.
"Well that was pathetic," Eric's voice registered in her ear. Her head shot up, expecting him to stand behind her, but he stood next to Al further down the line.
A relieved smirk tugged at her lips. It gave her a certain satisfaction knowing that she wasn't the worst thrower in the room. She bent her arm and aimed at the figure, a deep breath leaving her lungs as she threw it. She loved the sound it made as it sliced through the air, almost like a whisk. Another failure in the books registered as it hit the wooden board surrounding the figure. Tara cursed under her breath.
Eric raised his voice again and Tara stopped what she was doing, watching the interaction.
Behind the pair sat Four on the table, an indescribable look on his face as he analysed the tall teenager in front. Next to him, Tara saw the Dauntless man with dark skin who she had hit on the first day. Zeke, she thought his name was, but her memory was fogging. Next to Zeke stood the girl who had been with him, the one with the high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes. But her name she couldn't recall.
"Are you afraid?"
"Of getting hit by an airborne knife?" He was much taller than Eric, it looked almost humorous from her point of view. "Yeah."
"Everybody stop!" The pierced blonde yelled. Silence filled the room like a stormy cloud, rumbling their breaths into echoes of thunder. Four stood and opened his mouth, but it sealed again. The man motioned toward the wall. "Stand in front of the target."
She could see the fear on Al's face from where she stood, he looked like a deer in front of headlights as he slowly made his way over to the wall in silence.
"Four, give me a hand here," Eric directed, and the brunette man behind him smirked his head tilting to the side as he turned to the dark-skinned boy with a kind of I told you so look. "You're gonna stand there, while he throws those knives," Eric explained to Al. "And if I see you flinch, you're out."
Tara's eyebrows arched slightly. This could be interesting, she thought, but she still wanted to get back into her own training. The annoyance of being horrible at something was infuriating her confidence, and she hated the feeling of it. She wasn't going to get better if she didn't practice, and right now Eric was stopping her from becoming any better.
The knives clinked as Four picked them up from the table, twisting them in his hands. He turned and caught sight of her intimidating stare and brushed it aside as he faced Al.
"Stop," Tris's voice echoed just as Four made himself ready to throw the knife. Everyone looked at her in slight shock. "Anyone can stand in front of a target, it doesn't prove anything."
Eric smiled a patriotic smile. "Then it should be easy for you to take his place."
With the body confidence of an insecure schoolgirl, Tris looked at her feet before heading to the wall to take Al's place. Tara was growing annoyed with the scene playing out in front of her, seeing no purpose in watching Eric test his authority on teenagers. It wasn't like he was much older than they were.
"Same rules apply."
Tara rolled her eyes. "Do I have to watch, or can I get back to my training?" she asked, waving the knife in the air as she met Eric's cold stare.
His head tilted amusingly. "You watch," he said. "Or you take her place."
Tara wasn't that stupid. She chose to stand and watch because she knew that if they were to swap places, it would be Eric who threw the knives and she didn't trust him with the sharp object. There was too much hatred in his eyes. Too much hatred directed toward her.
In a blink of an eye, the knife hit the wooden board outside her figure. The blonde man sighed amusingly and pressed the man to get closer. The second knife hit closer to her head, though still on the wooden frame. Eric's patience was thinning out as he looked at the brunette. "You can get closer than that."
"You want me to give her a little trim?" Four smirked.
"Maybe just a little off the top."
With a nod to his head and a deadly stare directed toward Tris, the next knife landed inches above her head, the impact breaking the plastic. Tara felt her heart skip a beat for a second, her grip tightening around her knife. From the corner of her eye, she saw Lyra start to advance to the Stiff, a panicked expression on her face. But Adrian held her back. Before Tara could register, a loud sound echoed through the facility and she watched the next knife rest against the side of her face, Tris opened her mouth, gasping slightly.
"Points for bravery, Stiff," Eric congratulated. "But not as many as you just lost for opening your mouth." He pointed at her, knife in hand. "Watch yourself. We train soldiers, not rebels."
Tris couldn't take her eyes off the ground, and Tara didn't know if it was out of embarrassment or pain.
"Alright we're done for today, get out."
Tara threw her remaining knife at the target and it hit the figure in the head. Not where she had aimed — but satisfying enough. With a deep exhale, she shoulders fell, the grimace on her face softening slightly. She stood there for a while, eyes glued to the wall in front of her, unbeknownst of the minutes that passed until his voice woke her up.
"You have a bad technique."
She spun around to meet the voice and found him standing almost right behind her. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him in annoyance. "Yeah, I fucking know."
"It's not gonna get you far," Four's words were about at encouraging as a brick wall.
"What's your point?" she raised her eyebrows as she stared into his deep brown eyes. He had the kind of eyes one could lose themselves in. "What, are you just here to tell me how bad I am? Because I already figured that out."
Four sighed and looked around for a second before his gaze landed on her. "I'm here to tell you that you shouldn't give up."
She scoffed. "Did it look like I was going to?"
"Depends on who you ask." He said, pinching the bridge of his nose, annoyed at her stubbornness. The way she conversed reminded him of someone he once knew, the way they both knew how to itch his nerves. "For me? No." He leaned his head back. "For Eric? Yes."
"I don't care what he thinks." She grimaced, turning to her right to watch the said Leader exit the facility. "It's not like I'm trying to impress him."
His head tilted slightly, his interest spiking. "Well, who are you trying to impress?"
"It doesn't matter," Tara said quickly, and watched as his eyebrow arched nonchalantly. "Don't flatter yourself."
"It matters to me," Four continued, "and to the people giving the scores."
She took a step back and placed her hands in her back pockets. "Yeah well, it's none of your fucking business."
He mimicked her movement and sighed, sometimes it felt like he was talking with a brick wall. "He tried really hard to get you into the bottom ten, you know that right?" She knew he meant Eric by the tone of his voice.
"No, I didn't. But it's no surprise." She lied. Of course, it surprised her. She knew they disliked each other, they had years of history to account for that, but she never thought he would do something like that, take advantage of his power against her. Was this his way of seeking revenge?
"Why is that?"
"—Hey where am I on the rankings?" Realization hit her as she repeated the words he had spoken.
"You'll find out soon enough."
"But—"
Four waved his hand in front of him. "You need to keep practising. It's going to be hard to stay in the top ten if your knife skills are slacking like this."
Her lips parted slightly, and there was a slight curve in the corner of her mouth. "Does that mean I'm still top ten?" she asked.
"I'm serious."
"Oh, I can tell," she nodded sarcastically.
He looked to the ground before pointing at the table behind them. "I'm going to leave these here, and I trust that you won't take them with you to hurt anyone."
Her eyes flickered to the knives on the table and raised an eyebrow. "Bold of you."
He ignored her statement and continued. "These targets are here for a few more days, you should use the time you have."
"Alright," Tara said and clapped her hand. "Do you have any tips?"
"Throw better."
"Right..."
She watched his body leave the compound, taking notice in the way his shoulders moved as he walked; the way his hands graced his sides sometimes; the soft tapping of his shoes on the concrete. It was the echo of a closing door that woke her from her trans, her eyes slowly drifting towards the metal blades on the table. The room filled with a heavy silence, the kind that lingers in the air when it's snowing.
She exhaled, grabbed the knife and turned to the board, face painted with determination.
✧∘ଂ ࿐ ཾ
AS TARA ENTERED THE sleeping quarters sometime later that day, the Initiates were gathered around Peter who was reading an article out loud. His voice could be heard from outside the room, the way he pronounced the words that tumbled out of his mouth was infuriating to her. As if there was something behind each syllable that he was hiding. She kept her head down as she passed the group, not noticing the way his eyes followed her with a humorous gaze.
"—Ahh, and look who wrote it, Helena Lovelace..." Peter muttered under his breath as she passed him. "That sounds so familiar, I think I've heard it before — I just know I have."
There was a slight hesitation in her step as she struggled not to grimace at the mention of their name. Her throat went dry in an instant, eyes fixated on the wall ahead of her. It had been a long time since she had heard that name spoken out loud. Ignore it, she told herself. Don't make a fool out of yourself. It wasn't her voice that echoed through her head though. It was Mother's. She pushed her shoulders back and took another step toward her bed when someone else spoke up.
"Oh yes!" Will exclaimed from the other side of her. "That's her! That's your mother isn't it?" He nudged Tara's shoulder and she glared at him.
She cleared her throat. "No—"
"But I'm certain," he pressed, that idiotic smile plastered on his lips.
"You must be delusional."
"Ah no," Will continued. "That's right, you look a lot like her! How dumb of me to not remember it earlier."
Worse words could not have been spoken to her: You look a lot like her. Tara's head snapped in his direction, jaw clenched shut. "If you don't shut your mouth, the next thing that will come out of it is your teeth," she threatened.
He was remarkably slow to take her hint to be a former Erudite, and it infuriated her. "Our moms worked together, don't you remember?"
She glared holes into his head. "No, I don't."
Peter wore a sickening smile as he crept up behind her. "Helena Lovelace, hmmm, Helena Lovelace," he chanted. "It has a nice ring to it, don't you think Tara?"
She didn't reply.
"Helena Lovelace... Helena—"
"Oh for fucks sake!" She turned to him with a warning glare, she grasped the collar of his shirt out of reflex, her fist clenched at her side. But he only smiled, because there it was, the reaction he had been waiting for. Boom. "Just stop saying it!"
"Helena—"
"Just leave it," Edward said as he appeared behind Peter out of thin air.
"Oh, but why spoil the fun?"
"He said leave it," Ben inquired from across the room, he had been watching the conversation from afar and knew the outcome could be explosive if it continued.
Peter recognized his defeat and playfully held up his hands in the air, a sickening laugh escaping his lips as his head leaned to the side. He took a step back, allowing Tara to squeeze through him and the pillar beside them, quickly making her way over to her bed.
Once Peter left the sleeping quarters with his two puppets, she was sitting on her bed facing the confused eyes of the two former Erudite's who had just saved her ass. Neither of them knew her story, only assumptions and rumours could be made of her relationship with her mother. But the boys remembered how she always stood alone on parent day at school, how no one dropped her off or picked her up the last day of school. How her brother hadn't even looked her way as she passed. Every time they had seen her during their years at school, she had been alone.
"You're welcome," Ben said with a nod, breaking the silence.
"I didn't ask you to do anything," she replied cooly, arms crossing over her upper body as she leaned back against the wall.
"The least you could do is say thanks."
"Don't press it, man," Edward piped in.
"Ungrateful." Ben shook his head. "I—we just saved your ass."
The blonde turned to him before he could continue and placed a hand on his chest. "Just don't press it." Edward had learned the outcome of getting on her nerves, he knew how destructive she could become, and a fear of seeing that version of Tara act out in front of him was something he never wished to see again. He opened his mouth to say something, but she was already halfway across the room, fists clenched at her sides.
Ben looked at him dumbfounded. "What is it with you two?"
It had been a bad day for Tara. Waking up late and missing her morning training; her skin sore from the tattoos; being horrible at knife throwing; watching the weakest person become good; hearing Mother's name; feeling helpless and weak. Everything was a spiral of bad emotions that surged through her body. She hated this feeling, like ants crawling up her legs; her head throbbing with pain.
All she wanted to do was to scream until her voice broke.
Her feet carried her on autopilot to the training compound, her eyes fixated on the floor as she hurried through the dark corridors of the Dauntless Headquarters. Laughter entered her ears and she glanced to her left where she saw two girls by the punching bags. One of them was thin with blonde hair, the other one a bit stockier and with short hair. She recognized them in an instant, an unwanted feeling boiling in the pit of her stomach, a stinging sensation biting her in the back, like a knife.
"Yes exactly," Lyra exclaimed. "Like that, it will make it much harder." Her hands were placed on Tris's waist as she showed her the importance of core movement while punching — something that Tara once had told her. "And remember to aim for the throat."
She gritted her teeth.
It was as if they had heard her teeth grit against each other because both of their faces shot in her direction, lips slightly parted. Tara stood there, watching as Lyra removed her hands and scratched the back of her throat. Tris wiped her palms on her legs and picked up her jacket on the floor, noticing the boiling expression on her face. She mumbled something under her breath before taking off into a jog, leaving the two girls alone.
"Why—"
"What—"
They interrupted each other, both mouths snapping shut. There was silence between them. Of contemplation, anger and pain. Lyra waved her hand, "I'll go first," she said. "What are—"
"No," Tara interrupted, quickly decreasing the space between them. "I'll go first."
The former Candor looked scared for a split second as she nodded, looking up into her eyes. They stood inches from each other now.
"Why did you do that?" she said, her hands moving in the air as she talked. "I told you those things."
"Tara—"
"—To help you, not her."
Lyra was getting irritated with the girl's lack of remorse or empathy for everyone else. They were starting to become friends in her eyes, having been around each other a lot for the past days, and learning new things about each other. But this was something that always irritated her. "Yeah, well tomorrow Tris is fighting Peter, did you know that?" Her voice was becoming deeper as she raised it. "And I didn't want her to get knocked out in ten seconds."
"Why would that matter?" Tara asked, furrowing her eyebrows. "If anything, it's just good for you. You need weaker people to stand below you if you wanna stay in the top ten, you know?"
The short-haired girl laughed. "No, you need weak people," She pointed her index finger. "I, on the other hand, want her to stay."
"Why?"
"Does it matter?" She kept her eyes on the floor and shook her head. She didn't want to fight with Tara, mostly because she knew she would probably lose.
"I still don't get it," Tara pursed her lips.
This was the last thing she needed, to see them together and to fight with her. Because for a split second, she had wanted to find Lyra to get her mind away from Peter and Mother and Ben — from everyone. But watching her and Tris together after a day like this, was the last thing she needed. It was like a knife of jealousy slicing her back. She would not admit it, but she had started to enjoy Lyra's company the past few days, and would almost call her one of her friends (but she don't do friendship).
The brown-haired girl pushed her shoulders back. "Why did you help her? What if she becomes better than you — you're already terrible at throwing knives, and don't get me started on your shooting—"
"Just stop it, okay?"
"I'm trying to help you," Tara breathed a laugh. "Isn't it obvious?"
"No, Tara!" Lyra raised her voice. "It's not. It's just you telling me how bad I am, and how I shouldn't help someone I care about and a friend of mine, because we 'need weak people'." She made air quotations. "I don't want her to be weak, I want us both to make it through Initiation."
Tara turned around for a moment, closings her eyes and taking a deep breath. She didn't like the feeling this conversation was creating in her stomach. "I can't help the both of you. I won't help the both of you."
Her hand grasped Tara's shoulder and forced her to face her again. "Why are you being such a bitch?" Lyra breathed another laugh, her inner Candor was talking now.
"I'm not going to help her," Tara was determined.
"Really?" She crossed her arms. "Because she told me you helped her just days ago."
"That was different—"
"Different how?" Lyra interrupted, she wasn't liking where the conversation was going. "Because she's become more of a threat now that she's actually good at something?"
Tara would never admit it out loud. She would never admit to feeling threatened by someone else, especially not by the Stiff. Her eyes scanned the room, ignoring the infuriated eyes of her so-called friend. "You're weak," she muttered.
"I'm weak?"
"Yes, you're weak for not focusing on yourself in a moment like this. If you don't do well now, you're out. Don't you get that?" Tara was the one pointing her index finger now. "There is no time to think about others right now, you need to focus on yourself and be thankful there are people worse than you."
"Do you hear yourself?" Lyra asked, shocked by the words leaving Tara's mouth. "Haven't you ever done anything for someone else? Anything that's not of your interest or that will benefit you?"
She didn't reply, but her mind drifted to Edward for a split second.
"Don't you have any compassion for others?"
Tara didn't even think about it before she answered, as if it was on autopilot. "Compassion is weakness, not strength." She could barely believe herself as she was repeating the words Father had spoken to her.
Lyra took a step closer to her, looking deeply into her hard eyes. "No, Tara," she said, exhaling deeply. Out of hurt and out of sorrow for her. "Compassion is strength. Caring for another, is strength." She watched the taller girl clench her jaw slightly, the features on her face tightening. "Maybe you could use some of that."
As Tara turned around and walked towards the exit of the compound she closed her eyes. It really had been a bad day.
✧∘ଂ ࿐ ཾ
[ ix. ali's note ! ]
okay, so hear me out.
before you're judging tara too much for
being an insufferable bitch, you need to
understand where she's coming from. tara
doesn't really have friends, or as she says,
doesn't do friendships. especially not
after what happened with edward, which
was a very traumatizing experience for her.
so she has a hard time getting close with
other people, or getting past the "being a
bitch toward everyone" facade
lyra on the other hand, was able to get
past that. she was someone who tara
felt she could almost being to trust, and was beginning to see her as one of her friends
(ie. showing her fighting tips to help her).
just helping someone else is out of character
for her. and then seeing lyra be so close
with someone else, that hurt. tara is fragile,
whether she want to admit it or not. but
when it comes to relationships. she's fragile.
she knows she's selfish, but being selfish
is also the only thing she's ever known.
her entire family was a load of selfish
bitches. and sharing people with others
is very unfamiliar to her. that's why she is
taking everything so badly. (also because
she's overwhelmed of emotions after
peter mentioned her mother. and the only
person she wanted to see after that
conversation was lyra, only to find her
being with tris and helping her)
she has a hard time accepting that lyra
and edward have other friends (myra), and
other people they care about. because
they might be the only ones she finds herself
caring about, but that doesn't mean she is
the only one they care about. and she has
a hard time understanding this.
friendships and even caring about other people
is foreign to her. she is horrible at it,
so you will have to endure tara making
stupid decisions and saying stupid things,
because at the moment, she doesn't
know any better. she is socially incompetent
at times, she has anger issues and is
stubborn and selfish. but she isn't like this
just because, she has a troubled past.
at the end of the day, she's just a scared 16
year old girl who doesn't know love. who
doesn't know anything except pain, hatred
and fear. and it's going to be a bumpy
journey to watch her challenge her
morals and accept her flaws
anyway, thank you for the continued
support <3 i really appreciate each and
every one of you