Bad *A DIVERGENT Fanfiction*


Reese is Bad.
Not Amity.
Not Dauntless.
Not Abnegation or Erudite or Candor.
She's Bad.
Really, really Bad.
B. A. D.
Bad.

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5. Chapter Two

The heavy weight of my pack is hard against my spine. As I run, my ponytail swings to both sides, whipping the sides of my face with a sharp hand. In front of me Eliza crouches, her usual boots replaced with stiff solid trainers.

Far, far in the distance is the fence, with black Dauntless blobs outlining it.

This is going to be longer than I thought.

The musty hot air sticks to my face and hair, stifling the air in my lungs. My breaths come out in gasping heaves but I am still expected to keep moving, keep running on and on and on. My footsteps patter to a halt and I throw up my hands in the air. "Remind me why we're even bothering with this again Eliza? How do we know we aren't the only people left? There could be absoloutely nothing but here!"

She glares at me, invisible daggers boring through my skin. She's been through this with me before but I can't help but question it. "Could be. Not will be."

"But how do we know the guards won't see us?"

She shrugs, harsh and unconcerned. "Stay close to me. Keep moving."

The journey continues like this - a long winding snake of Bad, tall short, slim and fat. White blue black yellow and grey. My mind wanders throughout; I think thoughts of fear and worry. There is a reason why we don't live outside the fence and it is far more likely to be good than unneccessary.

I shudder.

It is best not to think that way.

Suddenly, Eliza and those in front of me duck down, crouching as low as their legs will take them. I follow suit automatically, my sense of self preservation taking over. That's when I hear it.

A gunshot.

Then a scream.

That's when I see it.

Matthew.

Erudite blue, writhing in agony on the floor.

That's when I feel it, last of all.

Horror.

Anguish.

Loathing for those who shot him.

Looking frantically to where the bullet came from I see a Dauntless guard fast approching, his mouth an angry line. The Bad make no attempt to hide further than the long grass they crouch in - they stand stock still as if petrified by a great Grecian monster.

Matthew is the only one moving, lying amidst his own red blood, writhing and screaming in agony.

I swallow helplessly, regretfully.

The guard is getting closer.

Then I do what I've been doing for the last couple of hours.

I run.

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