✧∘ଂ ࿐ ཾ
[ xiv. fourteen ! ]
❛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ sᴛᴀɢᴇ ᴏғ ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ❜
SHE WAS SCARED OF THE INEVITABLE. Of what might await her on the other side of the white door with those white eyes lingering at the end of the corridor. She felt watched, as if the whole room was observing her. Her chest tightened, suffocated by the walls that enclosed around her, that seemed to slowly inch closer. Tara pushed her head against the wall behind her, relived by the small pain that reminded her that she was in fact, still alive.
The place next to her on the bench felt empty somehow, as if she was waiting for a stupid comment or a slight nudge to piss her off. Her nose empty without the smell of sandalwood. Tara knew he was long gone by now, somewhere in the shadows of the city, a skinny girl by his side as they struggled to get a full meal into their churning stomachs. His skin was probably already painted with dust and mud, and it struck her, the thought of what might be on his mind — if she ever crossed his mind.
Edward was Factionless now, he had reached a point in society that not even Tara could reach him. And for that — she liked to think — he could only blame himself. (This however, was not entirely true). Therefore, she refused to think about him. Because if there was one thing Tara felt except anxiety, it was betrayal.
She was rarely hurt, or so she would like to think. Physically is a whole other story, but her heart had only been hurt twice before. The first time was when Father had struck her across the face at the age of six, she remembered the way his ring had cut open her skin. Many more blows would follow of different kinds, but that had been the first. The second that was the day when Edward had kissed her all those years ago. (What she failed to realize was that it wasn't Edward who had hurt her. It was Father). Hurting was for the weak, she had learnt that growing up at the Lovelace home. A place that, despite its name, was empty of love. But something had reached into her that day, a small knife to the stomach, a small particle growing inside her, and she felt pathetic. Helpless. Lonely.
Hurt. She felt hurt.
Tiredness hung beneath her eyes, lips dry from a lack of water and her hair was tousled into a braid. She had spent the majority of the previous day hiding from the crowds of Visitation day, and then spent the night thinking of Edward. And the moments when her mind seemed blank of the boy, she laid worrying about the voice, the shadow that had threatened her a few weeks ago. The knife underneath her pillow could be felt through the softness of the sheet. Her hand lingered on the handle, ready to swing at anything that moved.
Tara had moved up in the rankings, just like they had told her not to, and she knew that any day now, she would feel their wrath. Unless she managed to kill him first. She found herself thinking this would be a lot easier if she had known who the person was.
At the end of the white corridor, a voice called to her. It sounded like a whisper, travelling through the thick air like dust — a quiet voice in her head. Tara did not move. She hadn't realised the voice was real.
It became louder. "Tara!"
His words had not yet registered in her mind, she was too deep in her thoughts.
"Hey Cactus!" Peter was yelling after her now, and her head twitched his way in an instant, "Get your ass up so that we can all be over with this shit."
Her eyes shifted to his. "Careful," she stood and brushed her trousers, "or I might just prick you." She arced a brow as she walked past the brown haired boy, who grimaced her way. She slowly decreased the distance to the doorway in which Four stood, watching the interaction, a slight pinch of annoyance in his throat.
Four was about to open his mouth when Tara silenced him with a hand, indicating that she had in fact heard him now. He tilted his head questionably before motioning her to step inside, closing the door firmly behind himself once she had entered.
Four cleared his throat, watching her tense frame make its way into the room. "How are you holding up?" He asked.
She didn't answer.
A small sigh. "Take a seat."
She nodded slightly and made her way over to the steel chair, there was a twitch in her eye as she stared at it. Sitting down, Tara felt the cold metal through her black clothes and a small shiver became evident on her skin. As she leaned back on the chair, she realised Four had asked her a question. "You asked something," she muttered and sat up again, her hands were shaking. "What did you ask?"
Four sat on his stool behind the big screen and contemplated if he would answer her or not. That was until he realised he actually wanted to know the answer to his question. He moved the stool slightly to the left in order to see her. "I asked how you were holding up. You look nervous."
She shook her head unconvincingly. "I'm excited."
Four was not amused. "Don't do that."
"What?"
"Lie to yourself." His eyes were deep in hers. "Everyone's afraid of something."
"Hmm," she muttered. Her back hit the cold steel once more as she sighed. Tara had seen her own reflection that same morning and she knew there was no need to deny him. The paleness of her cheeks and hollowness beneath her eyes spoke louder than a thousand lies. "I'm keeping my head above the surface." The words sounded like they were trying to convince herself of the lie, but he could see it in her eyes that there was no truth to them.
Four nodded slowly, not exactly knowing what to respond or how to react. "Try not to drown," he finally said, instantly regretting it. Idiot. "Let's get started." His eyes washed over her. "Remove your jacket."
"Are you used to saying that?" Tara nodded.
He didn't respond, but a small puff of air left his nostrils. "Okay... As you're probably aware of, this is the Second Stage if Initiation. The first one was more physical and this will focus on the more psychological parts of you." He typed something on the computer. "I'm going to inject you with a serum that stimulates the parts of your brain that processes fear. It's going to feel like a hallucination, and just like the Aptitude Test, you won't know you're in a simulation until you've woken up.
"Is it worse?" She asked. Tara's pulse was already rising, she could hear Mother's voice inside her head, warning her of the Simulation. Do the wrong thing. Act the wrong way, Chantara, and they'll kill you. Her hands were sweating. They'll kill all of us.
Her entire life, Tara had been raised by one of Erudite's own supremes. Mother had been high in the food chain of knowledge, and it taught her how to manipulate the Aptitude Test. In fear that her daughter had been a — so called — Divergent (not because of the safety of her daughter, but more so because she could not bare the embarrassment that it would bring), she had trained Tara for it since she was old enough to understand. She taught her everything there is to know about a simulation, and what exactly the person on the outside could witness. It's a test, that had been her first lesson. Everything you do can and will be used against you. If you cheat, you're dead. If you're too good, you're dead. During the days when she did not study for school or train by herself, she spent under Mother's hard stare, and when the day came, she was prepared, she was able to manipulate the test because she knew what was to be expected.
But this, sitting in a steel chair once again with a strange man behind a computer and a test that Tara knew nothing of, terrified her. She always came prepared.
"It puts you in a situation where you have to face your worst fear, or fears for that matter. People have on average ten to fifteen fears." Four explained. "It's a test to see how you react and how you handle yourself when placed in those situations."
"And how do I get out?"
"You get through them. Find a way to take control of the situation, lower your pulse and your breathing. Find a way to fight your fears instead of letting them fight you." His fingers clicked against the keyboard as he wrote down her data. "Today we will start with a small dosage, only one fear. In the coming weeks more will follow and as you get better, your time will go down and that's how you progress."
"Is there a time limit?"
He shook his head. "You're done when you've faced your fear."
"What's the record?"
"Classified."
She scoffed.
He held up the syringe. "There are transmitters in the serum that allows me to monitor you through the screen."
Tara looked around the room, suddenly uneasy and aware that she was being observed. For some reason, the room felt bigger. "Why?"
He arced a brow. "To see how well you handle them."
Silence hung in the air like a thick cloud.
Her fingers picked on her nail beds and she felt her head shake. "What if I don't want to do this?" She asked. "Why is this necessary?"
He tilted his head slightly backwards to get a better look at her. "We're Dauntless."
"I'm not going to let you inside my head." She straightened her back, wrapping her fingers around around the strings of her braid that hung over her shoulder, slowly gnawing at her lip.
Four had never seen her look worried. "Tara—"
"I said no."
He scratched his jaw, annoyance painting the lines in his face. Four remembered the feeling of sitting in that metal chair, like it had been his first time just the day before. He remembered the feeling of entering the Simulation, not entirely sure if what might await you on the other side. At the time when he was an Initiate, he had been just as mistrusting, just as broken as he believed she was. Facing your fears when you're in a place like that, can only become destruction. "It's obligatory," he finally said, Amar had been much better at the comforting part than he was. He tried his best to remember his words. "You have to, or else I'll have to fail you."
"Well then fail me," Tara stood up from the metal chair and headed toward the door.
"If I fail you," he started, making her stop in her path. "You're out. You might as well join the others that didn't make it. You might as well have joined Edward when he left." The words felt like arrows. "You'll be factionless."
She felt anger wash over her features at the mention of his name, like it did not belong on his lips. "Don't you—" she paused. "I'm not letting you inside my head." The door was staring back at her.
"There's no other way to do it." Four rested his hand on the metal chair, inviting her to take a seat again.
"It's unfair," Tara said, crossing her arms.
"Life's not supposed to be fair—"
"Then let me inside your head," she interrupted, turning to face him, suddenly intrigued.
Four looked dumbfounded. "What?"
"Let me inside your head." Tara took a few steps closer to him.
"That's not part of this stage," Four crossed his arms over his muscular chest, taken aback by her suggestion. "No."
"If you're going inside my head," Tara started, mimicking his body language. "Then it's only fair you let me inside yours."
"Nothing about this is fair, I've already made that clear." he said. "I won't have this discussion. Either you leave or you sit down. Right now." Four stood up and took a deep breath. Watching her in silent contemplation. This was taking too long, he realised that, a small pinch of worry struck him. What will the others think? "There are more people in the world than you, Tara. Other Initiates are waiting on me the other side of that door."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why won't you let me inside your head." She didn't even give him the chance to answer. "Because you don't trust me."
"Exactly." Four tapped his knee with his hands impatiently.
"My point made." Tara nodded. "I don't trust you either."
"You don't have to trust me," Four said. "You have to listen to me. This is for your own good. It's a way to get to know yourself and understand the things that you might not understand."
Tara spun on her heel and walked hastily toward the door. "I don't want to do this."
He closed his eyes for a second. "Tara!" She stopped immediately at the volume of his voice. She had never heard him yell before. "Just sit down. I'm not going to tell you again."
She closed her eyes and felt his stare on the back of her head.
"Don't make me kick you out of Dauntless."
There was something in his voice that she had never heard before, an unfamiliar tone of his words. It was desperation. It sounded weird coming from his lips, and his words had make their way into her body. They made her turn around, head down, and sit down in the metal chair. She ignored his eyes and blocked out the rest of his words as he placed the sticky side of the chords on her skin. She took a deep breath as a small pinch to her skin prickled her consciousness with pain. With the needle deep inside her arm, he injected the serum into her.
His hand remained on her shoulder even after the needle had exited. She did not retract her arm like she should have, and Tara found herself wondering if it was because of the Serum or—
"Focus on your breathing. Focus on the test."
"I wont be able to, will I?" Tara felt her lip tremble, her knuckles turn white. "I wont know it a simulation, that's the thing, isn't it? The serum makes you forget."
Four paused slightly, his eyes drawn to her, suddenly curious of how she had knowledge of the Simulation. It was not common knowledge.
"If you can face your fears in a simulation, you can face them in real life." Four explained. "It's just a matter of control. That's what this world is built upon. You need to take control of your pulse of your breathing and it'll..."
Suddenly his words floated like water.
DARKNESS HAD SWALLOWED HER ENTIRE BODY, and she was just a shaken breath in the void where she stood. She could feel her feet planted on the floor, cold and hard like concrete. Her eyes however were staring into nothingness, almost as if they were closed, but the flutter of her eyelashes told her otherwise.
Seconds felt like hours as she stood in the dark. There was no wind nor smell there, droplets of sweat already trickled down the sides of her temples. Tara brushed her hands against her trousers, hoping to rid their stickiness but failing miserably. Something felt wrong.
Snap!
There it was. The sound that was too familiar for her liking. The hairs on her neck raised as a shiver went down her spine.
Snap!
Tara would never forget the sound of a leather belt.
She felt her feet spin around in the darkness as she tried to locate the sound. But to no avail. It came once every five seconds, teasing her of its existence. She held her guard up, embracing herself for the impact that might come. I've done this before, I can do it again, she reassured herself. She could feel her heart beat like a trapped bird inside her rib cage, and her breath that never quite made its way into her stomach. For the first time, Tara realised she was afraid of the dark, or rather what might lurk inside it.
"You are late again."
And there it was.
The voice.
His voice.
The voice she hoped to never hear again. The voice she made sure she would never hear again The one she removed from the surface of the earth so that it could never harm her again. But there he was, somewhere in the darkness, snapping his brown leather belt, teasing her like he had done so many times before.
Snap!
A small sound escaped her lips as she spun on her heel, struggling to figure out where the sound was coming from. The last thing she wanted was to be hit in her face or somewhere visible, and she found herself grimacing at the thought. A bruise was the least of her worries, she reminded herself.
"Why are you late again?" The voice continued. "We're you at his place again?"
She shook her head. "I'm sorry." Pathetic.
Tara did not feel the first hit until she had collided with the cold floor. Her hand went to her cheek as a breath slipped trough her lips. In the face, of course. She forced back the tears that were threatening her waterline and helped herself to her feet.
"Answer me!" The voice bellowed. "You're not supposed to be around boys like this! Why do you never listen to what I tell you!"
The second impact was more evident. It was pure pain, harder than the first one and she could feel the belt tearing at the skin on her shoulder. This one had however not knocked her off her feet. Tara pulled her guard closer to her face and took a few steps back, hoping to escape this torment. For a few seconds she thought she might have succeeded, the snap of his belt sounded farther away. Her back collided with something warm and soft, the smell of alcohol washed over her and she instantly shot forward, falling to her knees once more.
She would never forget the feeling of Father behind her.
Snap!
"Stop it," Tara cried. It had been right above her this time.
"Weak."
She sniffed.
"You've always been weak."
The next hit collided with her back, forcing her all the way to the floor. Her cheek hit the concrete with force and Tara squeezed her eyes shut because of the pain of biting her own tongue. Another hit followed. Her head migrated towards her stomach as she wrapped her arms around her legs, curling up on the floor like a child once more.
"I don't know who the hell you think you are, but how dare you disrespect me under my own fucking roof?"
"I'm sorry."
Tara had stopped counting the blows. Had it been ten? Fifteen? Thirty? She could not tell. Like many times before, her mind went blank as he continued snapping his belt, striking her from the top of her head to the heel of her foot, spitting his words at her. Tara could not tell if it had only been a minute of half an hour. But all of a sudden she felt a soft warmth erupting from her hand, moving slowly up her forearm and resting there for a while, before slowly making its way back to her left hand. I'm bleeding now, Tara thought. This is it. But the warmth was comforting. It was like a small reassurance, and it reminded her that this was not real. None of it. The words leaving Fathers mouth were not real, he had spoken them to her once before and he was not a man that would repeat himself. The pain of his belt, the feeling of his hands around her throat, on her skin, under her shirt, it hurt. The entire experience was painful.
There's nothing like a little bit of pain to remind you that you're still alive.
But it was not real.
Tara could not tell if it was the warmth traveling from her hand up her arm or if it was the pain that had reminded her that she was in a simulation, her Fear Landscape. But it was something. She shook her head and started to help herself to her feet, remembering that she was being watched.
"What the fuck do you think you're—"
Tara felt the leather belt strike on her leg and let out a painful scream, her hand reached for it and grasped the material. She tugged at it, feeling his resistance on the other end. She knew that if there had been any light in the room, she would not have been able to see him due to the tears that were filling her eyes once more.
A hand collided with her face, Tara fell backwards, the grip on the belt still strong. She pulled him to the ground with her and without seeing anything, Tara started punching. Sometimes she met something soft, maybe a cheek or his chest. Sometimes she hit the floor and let out a cry of her own, feeling her knuckles give in. She forced herself on top of him, locking Fathers hands underneath her legs, clawing at anything she could get ahold of. His words echoed around in silent screams. She grasped his hair firmly and lifted his head from the ground and slammed it down with great force. This act repeated itself and Tara cried at the top of her lungs at she felt his blood splash her in the face.
The thing about simulations is that they feel real. Very real. Everything from the touch of something, the wind blowing through your hair or she smell of fresh warm blood. Everything feels real. Everything but time. Tara could not tell how long she sat atop of him or how long she kept smashing his head against the cold concrete floor. She knew he was dead long before she even thought about stopping. A part of her wanted him to suffer like he had made her do, but she knew minutes could never repay years of her life.
Her tears fell from her chin and hit the floor. Suddenly the room started to light up, like a sunrise slowly removing the terrors of the night, washing over everything with happiness. But only dread would follow. Tara closed her eyes and wiped her cheeks, replacing the tears with the blood of Father. She sniffed her nose and took a shaky breath. Her right hand released his hair as she did one final slam against the floor, slowly opening her eyes to the light.
Tara wished it would have stayed dark.
It had been Father who had laid there, she was sure of it. It was his voice that had called out to her before. His belt that had hit her. His hands all over her. His scent. His screams. But what laid on the floor beneath her was not a lifeless Father painted with his own blood, his head slightly disfigured. But it was her. Tara saw herself there, sprayed with her own blood, her head slightly disfigured. Her eyes stared lifeless my back at her.
She had been fighting herself.
Tara let out a silent weep and pushed herself of her own lifeless body, shutting her eyes so hard she hoped they would blind her permanently.
When she opened them again, she was back in the room she had been before on the cold metal chair. The warmth on her arm vanished the moment she awoke. She found herself wishing it had stayed with her a little longer, and wondered if it had been a part of the simulation. Tara slowly sat and leaned forward, hiding her face in her hands, her fingers slipping over the sweat that glistened her skin. She could feel his eyes at the side of her head.
"Tara." His voice felt like a punch and a hug.
She shook her head. "I don't want to hear it."
He waited a few seconds before he spoke again. "Tara," Four said again. She moved his stool closer to her in order to get a better look at the girl who all of a sudden looked too small for this world. "Everyone reacts differently after their first interaction with their Fear Landscape." No reaction came from her. "Do you want to know how long it took for you to break out?"
She removed her hands from her face, confident that no tears would leak from her eyes. Still avoiding his eyes, Tara nodded.
"Nine minutes and forty-tree seconds."
"That's bad."
"No, it's a start."
Four leaned forward to pat her shoulder in order to comfort her, but before he had reached it, her hand had shot out in front of her and caught hold of his wrist. She took a deep unsteady breath as their eyes met, and Four felt his insides crumble. Idiot, he thought. Her walls of security fell for a split second and he caught it in her eyes, the way they glistened ever so slightly. He waited for her to release him, but realised that she would not, not after what she just experienced in her Fear Landscape. Four swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and slowly retracted his hand, watching her in silent contemplation.
"About your Landscape—"
"I don't want to hear it," Tara interrupted. "Ju—just don't say anything."
In a blink of an eye, she was out the door and Four was left on his stool, wondering how he could have been so stupid and if this was the last time he would see her. For all he knew, Tara could leave Dauntless after what she experienced. He knew that was what he wanted to do when he first entered his own Fear Landscape, and theirs had been similar in that way. Four played over her simulation on his screen and for the first time since meeting her, he realised something. The part of himself that he had seen in her that very first day, was because of the thing they had in common. Shit fathers. (He had been guessing that was her father).
The intense personality that she had, everything from the way she looked at people the way she interacted with them. Every little detail about her suddenly made sense. And Four wondered how he could have been so blind to miss it. One look at himself is all it would have taken, once single look and he would know why he felt like he knew her.
"Idiot."
✧∘ଂ ࿐ ཾ
[ xiv. ali's note ! ]
it has been a looong while since I last updated, and I can't tell you how sorry I am but also how much I appreciate the love this fic has gotten from all of you.
The updates have been slow and will continue to be slow for a while now, maybe during Christmas I'll have more time to write. We will see. And I can't tell you when the next update will be but I hope it won't be too long and I hope this chapter did not disappoint. It's been hard for me to write and I've been working on it for a while now.
Thank you once again for all the love Drown has gotten, I still love to read all your comments, they're hilarious and I hope that you all still enjoy this fic.