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

inch of him covered in clothing, a protective layer between
us. “I said I have a question, Juliette.”
His hand slips into my pocket so quickly it takes me a
moment to realize what he’s done. I’m panting up against
the wall, shaking and trying to find my head.
“I’m curious,” he says. “What is this?”
He’s holding my notebook between 2 fingers.
Oh God.
This dress is too tight to hide the outline of the notebook
and I was too busy looking at my face to check the dress in
the mirror. This is all my fault all my fault all my fault all my
fault I can’t believe it. This is all my fault. I should’ve known
better.
I say nothing.
He cocks his head. “I don’t recall giving you a notebook. I
certainly don’t remember granting you allowance for any
possessions, either.”
“I brought it with me.” My voice catches.
“Now you’re lying.”
“What do you want from me?” I panic.
“That’s a stupid question, Juliette.”
The soft sound of smooth metal slipping out of place.
Someone has opened my door.
Click.
“Get your hands off of her before I bury a bullet in your
head.”