Rampant: A Divergent FanFiction (Book Two) ©

Chapter 6

                “You’re late,” Banks stated after I’d knocked on his door and made my way in.

                “Lost track of time,” I said quickly. “It won’t happen again.”

                He let out an unamused laugh and then pointed to the chair in front of his desk. “Sage, Sage, you would think by now you’d be a better liar.”

                I didn’t respond. Instead I sat down, and then when I saw him pull out the key he hung around his neck, I pushed up the sleeve of my right arm; I knew the routine. After he opened the top drawer of his desk, he immediately went to work gathering the supplies he needed; a needle, syringe, a series of differently colored blood tubes, and then a small shiny machine I didn’t know the name to.

               Without having to ask me, I lifted my arm so that the crook of my elbow was visible, and then turned away. More than the actual act, I hated seeing him continually poke me with needles; taking my blood, studying my DNA, reading my genetic map. It felt intrusive and never ceased to disturb me deeply.

               When he was done, he gently shook the tubes back and forth, and then proceeded to place a series of drops out of each one onto the surface of the little machine. It blipped, and as I usually did when this procedure happened, I speculated on what exactly it was that he was looking for.

               Once the machine was done flashing, he pressed a button and the printer in the corner of the room began to spit out a series of typed pages. I didn’t bother trying to peek or read anymore, not like I had in the beginning. It wasn’t that my curiosity had been extinguished, simply that I had actually once read what was on the page, and it had seemed like load of gibberish.

               As the last sheet of paper slid out of the machine, he picked up the thin stack and began to leaf through it, his expression completely unreadable. I rolled my sleeve back down, and then waited for further instructions, making sure to stay silent.

               Out of the corner of my eye, I studied him. His face, just as it’d been during initiation, was blank. He was a master of the poker face. However, through these long and hard months, I’d come to figure out some hints that could give away his state of emotion.

               Now, though his face remained slack, I could see from the way he was flicking though his report that something was bothering him. He turned another page, his eyes scanning, and I saw the corner of his mouth lower imperceptibly. A slip in his facial expression? He must’ve been really upset. As he read the last sentence of his sheet, a pang of edginess twisted my insides.

               “Well,” he cleared throat gruffly, finally dropping his charade entirely as he scowled at me. “These results are completely useless.”

               “What?” I said dumbly. I’d heard him, but I wasn’t sure how it could be my fault; I had no control over what my genes did or didn’t do.

               His eyes were cold, like ice daggers. If looks could kill, I would’ve already been on the ground convulsing from the sudden onset of a heart attack.He jabbed at the paper as he spoke. 

               “You’re blood alcohol level is much too high. It’s throwing all of my calculations off,” he rubbed his fingers across his temples. “I warned you, I had no objections to you injuring yourself, so long as it didn’t interfere into what I was doing. Now look at this, it’s useless.”

               How I wish he’d been yelling, because yelling would’ve given me a clue as to just how mad he was. Quiet chastising from a man like him was more dangerous. I wasn’t afraid of him beating me, my body had long become accustomed to physical pain, what I was afraid of was what he’d do with his drugs and chemicals.