This is my attempt at a fan fiction in the Divergent universe. Enjoy (or don’t-up to you):

My father sits in the audience. There is an empty chair beside him, where my mother would have sat if she’d been around for my Choosing Ceremony, instead of running away to join the Factionless. Father looks stern as ever, but there is a tenderness, a fragileness in his eyes that tells me he’s worried about my choice. As if he could influence me. The rest of Amity is always trying to shape me into a happy little smiley-faced brat, and I swore that I’d never let that happen to me. I’ve seen them all, sitting in trucks singing, picking apples, smiling at funerals, and I have always known that I can never live that life.

The aptitude test gave me an excuse for freedom though. Everything I chose ruled out Amity. They also ruled out Candor, Abnegation and Erudite. The only faction left was Dauntless. Everyone says that they’ll ‘love’ me. Ha. Everyone says I’ll fit right in with punks and hellions, who are good for nothing but border patrol and violence. Maybe they think that. Maybe I’ve done a few things to deserve those judgements. But I know that where ever I go, whatever I choose, I will never be able to become one of the people that just magically fit in to their faction. My only plan is to fail initiation. Dauntless initiation.

When my name is called, I step forward. Father watches my every move. When I become faction less, I’ll only be a bigger embarrassment to him. But I don’t care. I can hear the crowd’s whispers. What will I pick? I’m the one that hit that guy once. I shouldn’t stay in Amity. I don’t belong. I give a sole shake of my head to clear my thoughts. Markus hands me the knife carefully, cautiously, as if I might suddenly stab him with it. But no, I walk over to the bowls. I cut my hand and the crowd draws breath. They release it as my blood drips and sizzles onto the coals of Dauntless.

-TIME SKIP-

Final tests for stage one today. The fights have been brutal, bruising and battering me. But occasionally I’ll stand my ground and actually win a fight. Occasionally. The only person who will definitely get cut is Ben. He’s lost every fight since the first day. That should have been my strategy, but when someone attacks you, all you want to do is defend yourself, not surrender to them and let them beat you senseless. Most of the people I beat were weak though. It can’t have been good for my over-all score. I trudge to the training grounds where the other initiates wait. I’m the last there. The training leader comes in and writes our names on the blackboard in front of us. I’m paired against Ben. Of course. He’ll never be able to beat me. He should have stayed in Erudite. And I, on the other hand, am beginning to doubt the fact that I will be thrown out of Dauntless. The trainer gestures to me and Ben, indicating the start of our fight. Ben shuffles over to the mat, while I stride. In position, the whistle blows, and we begin to fight.

I may continue this, I may not. This was just a test to be honest. What was it a test of? I’m not sure. But I wrote it and here it is. Bye.