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

wonder and peace and possibility that it’s about to burst
and I wonder if it will rip the dress.
Hope is hugging me, holding me in its arms, wiping away
my tears and telling me that today and tomorrow and two
days from now I will be just fine and I’m so delirious I
actually dare to believe it.
I am sitting in a blue room.
The walls are wallpapered in cloth the color of a perfect
summer sky, the floor tucked into a carpet 2 inches thick,
the entire room empty but for 2 velvet chairs punched out
of a constellation. Every varying hue is like a bruise, like a
beautiful mistake, like a reminder of what they did to Adam
because of me.
I am sitting all alone in a velvet chair in a blue room
wearing a dress made of olives. The weight of the notebook
in my pocket feels like I’m balancing a bowling ball on my
knee.
“You look lovely.”
Warner whisks into the room like he treads air for a living.
He’s accompanied by no one.
My eyes involuntarily peek down at my tennis shoes and I
wonder if I’ve broken any rules by avoiding the stilts in my
closet I’m sure are not for feet. I look up and he’s standing
right in front of me.
“Green is a great color on you,” he says with a stupid
smile. “It really brings out the color of your eyes.”
“What color are my eyes?” I ask the wall.
He laughs. “You’re not serious.”
“How old are you?”
He stops laughing. “You care to know?”
“I’m curious.”
He takes the seat beside me. “I won’t answer your
questions if you won’t look at me when I speak to you.”
“You want me to torture people against my will. You want
me to be a weapon in your war. You want me to become a
monster for you.” I pause. “Looking at you makes me sick.”