Shatter-Me-PDF-Shatter-Me-Series-Shatter-Me-Shatter-Me-1-Tahereh-Mafi (1)

No one moves for so long.
I begin to fear for my life despite his earlier reassurances. I
begin to wonder if perhaps I am the guilty one. If perhaps
the gun in his pocket is destined for me. I finally dare to turn
in his direction. He glances at me for the first time and I
have no idea how to read him.
His face is 10,000 possibilities staring straight through me.
“Delalieu,” he says, still looking at me. “You may step
forward.”
A thin, balding sort of man in a slightly more decorated
outfit steps out from the very front of the fifth line. He
doesn’t look entirely stable. He ducks his head an inch. His
voice warbles when he speaks. “Sir.”
Warner finally unshackles my eyes and nods, almost
imperceptibly, in the balding man’s direction.
Delalieu recites: “We have a charge against Private 45B-
76423. Fletcher, Seamus.”
The soldiers are all frozen in line, frozen in relief, frozen in
fear, frozen in anxiety. Nothing moves. Nothing breathes.
Even the wind is afraid to make a sound.
“Fletcher.” One word from Warner and several hundred
necks snap in the same direction.
Fletcher steps out of line.
He looks like a gingerbread man. Ginger hair. Ginger
freckles. Lips almost artificially red. His face is blank of
every possible emotion.
I’ve never been more afraid for a stranger in my life.
Delalieu speaks again. “Private Fletcher was found on
unregulated grounds, fraternizing with civilians believed to
be rebel party members. He had stolen food and supplies
from storage units dedicated to Sector 45 citizens. It is not
known whether he betrayed sensitive information.”
Warner levels his gaze at the gingerbread man. “Do you
deny these accusations, soldier?”
Fletcher’s nostrils flare. His jaw tenses. His voice cracks
when he speaks. “No, sir.”