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

his skin, I dare to trail my fingers down the length of his
abdomen.
“You’re my bird,” I tell him. “You’re my bird and you’re
going to help me fly away.”
Adam is gone by the time I get out of the shower.
He wrung his clothes out and dried himself off and granted
me privacy to change. Privacy I’m not sure I care about
anymore. I touch 2 fingers to my lips and taste him
everywhere.
But when I step into the room he’s not anywhere. He had
to report downstairs.
I stare at the clothes in my closet.
I always choose a dress with pockets because I don’t know
where else to store my notebook. It doesn’t carry any
incriminating information, and the one piece of paper that
bore Adam’s handwriting has since been destroyed and
flushed down the toilet, but I like to keep it close to me. It
represents so much more than a few words scribbled on
paper. It’s a small token of my resistance.
I tuck the notebook into a pocket and decide I’m finally
ready to face myself. I take a deep breath, push the wet
strands of hair away from my eyes, and pad into the
bathroom. The steam from the shower has clouded the
mirror. I reach out a tentative hand to wipe away a small
circle. Just big enough.
A scared face stares back at me.
I touch my cheeks and study the reflective surface, study
the image of a girl who’s simultaneously strange and
familiar to me. My face is thinner, paler, my cheekbones
higher than I remember them, my eyebrows perched above
2 wide eyes not blue not green but somewhere in between.
My skin is flushed with heat and something named Adam.
My lips are too pink. My teeth are unusually straight. My
finger is trailing down the length of my nose, tracing the