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

never thought
“You killed a little boy.”
I’m nailed into my velvet chair by a million memories and
I’m haunted by a horror my bare hands created and I’m
reminded in every moment that I am unwanted for good
reason. My hands can kill people. My hands can destroy
everything.
I should not be allowed to live.
“I want,” I gasp, struggling to swallow the fist lodged in my
throat, “I want you to get rid of the cameras. Get rid of them
or I will die fighting you for the right.”
“Finally!” Warner stands up and clasps his hands together
as if to congratulate himself. “I was wondering when you’d
wake up. I’ve been waiting for the fire I know must be eating
away at you every single day. You’re buried in hatred, aren’t
you? Anger? Frustration? Itching to do something? To be
someone?”
“No.”
“Of course you are. You’re just like me.”
“I hate you more than you will ever understand.”
“We’re going to make an excellent team.”
“We are nothing. You are nothing to me—”
“I know what you want.” He leans in, drops his voice. “I
know what your little heart has always longed for. I can give
you the acceptance you seek. I can be your friend.”
I freeze. Falter. Fail to speak.
“I know everything about you, love.” He grins. “I’ve
wanted you for a very long time. I’ve waited forever for you
to be ready. I’m not going to let you go so easily.”
“I don’t want to be a monster,” I say, perhaps more for my
sake than his.
“Don’t fight what you’re born to be.” He grasps my
shoulders. “Stop letting everyone else tell you what’s wrong
and right. Stake a claim! You cower when you could conquer.