That night is odd, filled with anticipation, like everyone's holding their breath.

The minutes tick by in your head, marked by the steady thump... thump... thump of your beating heart.

You wonder briefly about back home. Is your stuff already gone? The Factionless move fast- after a week without word from anyone about your whereabouts, you'd be declared dead.

You hope no one took your white scarf. It's stupid, especially since you have better clothes now, but you did like that scarf. It was soft, if threadbare, and it was dirty, but it gave off the appearance of clean snow...

You hear a sudden scuffle in the dark, and you sit up, clutching your blanket to your chest, staring out into the dark. Then there's a thud, and-

A piercing shriek, wailing through the air like a siren. There's a scramble as people get up, shoes hitting the floor, the whoosh of blankets being thrown off, and, above all, the scream. Your blood is frozen, shuddering, as you force yourself to get up, running over in slow motion-

"Turn on the lights!" someone yells, and they flood on, blinding you. You throw up your hands to block the light, blinking in the chaos and clamor. Everyone rushes past you, shoving towards the awful sound.

You try to worm your way through the cluster of bodies, and catch Peter pushing back towards you. He wipes his face with an arm, then reaches up and claps a hand on your shoulder.

"You don't want to look over there, Amity," he says as he walks past, eyes intense and full of regret. "Go back to bed."

"My eye!" Another scream rises with a sob, shrieks descending into sobbing cries. It's Edward, you realize with a jolt, and your eyes dart to Peter, wiping the blood off his face. You don't have to ask. You know who did it.

***

Tris scrubs at the blood for a half hour, Christina wordlessly getting paper towels. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block it all out, trying to not imagine the knife in your eye.

No one sleeps much that night.

***

"This is going to sound weird," Will says the next day, keeping pace with you and Tris in the Pit, "but I wish we didn't have a day off today."

You glance back at the dormitory, stomach roiling. Christina and Al are in there taking naps, even after someone got stabbed. You shudder.

"We could visit him," suggests Will, awkwardly rolling the words around on his tongue. "But what would we say? 'I didn't know you that well, but I'm sorry you got stabbed in the eye'?"

Tris laughs, but you can barely bring yourself to smile. It isn't funny. Will stares at her, then lets out a tired laugh, too.

"Sorry," Tris says, rubbing her face. "It's just so ridiculous."

There's a long pause.

"Do you think anyone's going to punish him?" you say, shaking your head.

Another pause.

"No," Tris says. "They won't."

There's no sound but our feet tapping against the Pit for a while. Then:

"Let's go to the cafeteria," Will says, "and eat cake."

"Okay," Tris says, and you agree, walking off to get a slice of strawberry.

***

When you all get back to the dormitory, Tris falls silent. Will puts a hand on her shoulder, and you push open the doors.

Edward and Myra's bunks are stripped clean, completely empty.

"They quit," Christina calls across the room. She's folding her clothes, hands shaking with tiny tremors. "Myra didn't want to be here without him. She was going to be cut, anyway. At least they didn't cut Al."

Your eyes jump to the chalkboard. The results are out, you realize, rushing over.

"Who else got cut?" You hear Tris asking, and...

If you won no fights, go to 84.

If you won one or more fights, go to 85.