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

“Sir.” Adam nods, pivots on one heel, and darts out the
door. I hope Warner didn’t notice his hesitation.
Warner turns to face me with a smile so calm and casual I
begin to question whether the building is actually in chaos.
He studies my face. My hair. Glances at the rumpled sheets
behind me and I feel like I’ve swallowed a spider. “You took
a nap?”
“I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“You’ve ripped your dress.”
“What are you doing here?” I need him to stop staring at
me, I need him to stop drinking in the details of my
existence.
“If you don’t like the dress, you can always choose a
different one, you know. I picked them out for you myself.”
“That’s okay. The dress is fine.” I glance at the clock for no
real reason. It’s already 4:30 in the afternoon. “Why won’t
you tell me what’s going on?”
He’s too close. He’s standing too close and he’s looking at
me and my lungs are failing to expand. “You should really
change.”
“I don’t want to change.” I don’t know why I’m so nervous.
Why he’s making me so nervous. Why the space between us
is closing too quickly.
He hooks a finger in the rip close to the drop-waist of my
dress and I bite back a scream. “This just won’t do.”
“It’s fine—”
He tugs so hard on the rip that it splits open the fabric and
creates a slit up the side of my leg. “That’s a bit better.”
“What are you doing—”
His hands snake up my waist and clamp my arms in place
and I know I need to defend myself but I’m frozen and I
want to scream but my voice is broken broken broken. I’m a
ragged breath of desperation.
“I have a question,” he says, and I try to kick him in this
worthless dress and he just squeezes me up against the
wall, the weight of his body pressing me into place, every