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

Adam and I have little time together but nighttime. And
even then, not so much. Warner watches me more closely
every day; disabling the cameras only made him more
suspicious. He’s always walking into my room unexpectedly,
taking me on unnecessary tours around the building, talking
about nothing but his plans and his plans to make more
plans and how together we’ll conquer the world. I don’t
pretend to care.
Maybe it’s me who’s making this worse.
“I can’t believe Warner actually agreed to get rid of your
cameras,” Adam said to me one night.
“He’s insane. He’s not rational. He’s sick in a way I’ll never
understand.”
Adam sighed. “He’s obsessed with you.”
“What?” I nearly snapped my neck in surprise.
“You’re all he ever talks about.” Adam was silent a
moment, his jaw too tight. “I heard stories about you before
you even got here. That’s why I got involved—it’s why I
volunteered to go get you. Warner spent months collecting
information about you: addresses, medical records, personal
histories, family relations, birth certificates, blood tests. The
entire army was talking about his new project; everyone
knew he was looking for a girl who’d killed a little boy in a
grocery store. A girl named Juliette.”
I held my breath.
Adam shook his head. “I knew it was you. It had to be. I
asked Warner if I could help with the project—I told him I’d
gone to school with you, that I’d heard about the little boy,
that I’d seen you in person.” He laughed a hard laugh.
“Warner was thrilled. He thought it would make the
experiment more interesting,” he added, disgusted. “And I
knew that if he wanted to claim you as some kind of sick
project—” He hesitated. Looked away. Ran a hand through
his hair. “I just knew I had to do something. I thought I could
try to help. But now it’s gotten worse. Warner won’t stop
talking about what you’re capable of or how valuable you