Ambivalence [p.h.] - EDITING

chapter 8 || jax is brutal and could hand our butts to us any day

"Fine."  Her voice shook as much as her body as she lifted her legs over the railing. She wiped her sweaty hands on her pants before carefully wrapping them around the railing as tightly as she could.  A minute passed without much of a struggle — and then, the river slammed the wall again. My stomach sank as her hands began to slip.  Christina's wracking sob was lost amid the roaring waves.  

She screeched as yet again, she loses her grip.  Only once she managed to catch herself did I allow myself to look away. I was grateful to be at the very back of the group instead of the front, where Al, Will, and Tris were hollering encouragements her way. I didn't want to watch.  Peter, who stood with me instead of a guilty-looking Molly and intense-looking Drew, met my gaze with understanding as I turned my head to the side.  No words came out to thank him when he placed his hand on my shoulder. His eyes told me I didn't need to.  They told me to focus on nothing but the green of his eyes; to focus on the rings that held lush forests and twinkling emeralds and a kind of understanding that doesn't fill you with butterflies, but with a flood of warmth that assures you, you are not alone. 

"Five minutes are up," Al said, even though it felt like Christina had been dangling over certain death for an eternity.  Peter's hand fell away from my shoulder as I turned around again. Eric took his time, checking his watch while leisurely strolling back to the railing.

He peered over the edge of the bridge, humming to himself as if he had all the time in the world. "Fine," Eric relents, his voice laced with disappointment in not being able to torture the girl any longer.  "You can come up Christina."  Al flew over to the railing without missing a beat.  His extended hand, ready to pull his friend back up, was soon swatted away. Al glared at Eric.

"No.  She has to do it on her own."

"No," Al growled, seething with more menace than I'd ever seen in Eric. "She doesn't.  She did what you said.  She's not a coward.  She did what you said."  Eric didn't respond, out of fear or maybe indifference, as Al pushed past his arm with Tris in tow. The two of them (Al with the muscle, Tris with the moral support) both hauled their friend up and lay on the soaked stone floor to catch their breath.

"Okay!  Let's get back to training." I widened my eyes. Eric was ruthless and more often than not, I respected him for it.  But part of me was wondering just how much farther he would go, and who would be his next victim. 

Christina stumbled at the back of the line this time with the support of Al's shoulder.  The rest of us followed closely behind Eric, this time silent in solidarity.

• • •

Edward didn't go full out when he was fighting— if anyone could tell, it was me — and certainly didn't hurt Drew as much as he could have. Despite the shorter boy's boulder-like stature, he really couldn't take a hit.  A kick to the shins was definitely not a fun time, but it should never bring tears to your eyes. As for Peter's fight, I had been right about Myra. I probably cheered for longer than the actual match had lasted.  Eddie's death glare couldn't even shut me up for long (I was only quiet until the two of them had made it into the corridor on the way to the infirmary).

"No, Jax, I appreciate the enthusiasm," Peter chuckled, brushing away the hand I was ruffling his hair with, "but it's your turn now. You gotta get ready."  I had to admit, I was excited for this. With a brisk "okay!" I bounced on my toes to loosen up my muscles and waited for my name to be called.

"Last fight," Four announced.  "Jax and Tris."  Eric gleamed at me maliciously as I stepped into the painted circle.  He knew I was better than Tris. He wanted me to put her in an infirmary cot.  He wanted me to absolutely pummel her. I shivered.  Tris inched inside the circle too, trying her best to imitate my own stance.  Like always, I began by circling the ring to analyze how she carried herself.  Her knees were straight, her back was hunched — why is Eric still looking at me like that? — her arms were too high above her ribs. Jackpot.