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

He takes a tight breath. “I don’t know,” he says. “I just—I
kept dreaming about this white bird. Birds used to fly, you
know.”
“You used to dream about it?”
“Yeah. All the time.” He smiles a little, exhales a little,
remembering. “It was nice. It felt good—hopeful. I wanted to
hold on to that memory because I wasn’t sure it would last.
So I made it permanent.”
I cover the tattoo with the palm of my hand. “I used to
dream about this bird all the time.”
“This bird?” His eyebrows could touch the sky.
I nod. “This exact one.” Something like realization slides
into place. “Until the day you showed up in my cell. I
haven’t dreamt of it ever since.” I peek up at him.
“You’re kidding.” But he knows I’m not.
I drop his shirt and lean my forehead on his chest. Breathe
in the scent of him. He wastes no time pulling me closer.
Rests his chin on my head, his hands on my back.
And we stand like that until I’m too old to remember a
world without his warmth.
Adam cleans my cuts in a bathroom set a little off to the
side of the space. It’s a miniature room with a toilet, a sink,
a small mirror, and a tiny shower. I love all of it. By the time
I get out of the bathroom, finally changed and washed up
for bed, Adam is waiting for me in the dark. There are
blankets and pillows laid out on the floor and it looks like
heaven. I’m so exhausted I could sleep through a few
centuries.
I slip in beside him and he scoops me into his arms. The
temperature is significantly lower in this place, and Adam is
the perfect furnace. I bury my face in his chest and he pulls
me tight. I trail my fingers down his naked back, feel the
muscles tense under my touch. I rest my hand on the waist
of his pants. Hook my finger into a belt loop. Test the taste
of the words on my tongue. “I meant it, you know.”