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

His head snaps up with a sudden burst of energy. His eyes
find me. His face is almost unscathed; there are only minor
cuts and bruises to account for. Focusing on the familiar
gives me a modicum of calm.
“Juliette—?”
“I need to cut you down—”
“Jesus, Juliette—how did you find me?” He coughs.
Wheezes. Takes a tight breath.
“Later.” I reach up to touch his face. “I’ll tell you
everything later. First, I need to find a knife.”
“My pants—”
“What?”
“In”—he swallows—“in my pants—”
I reach for his pocket and he shakes his head. I look up.
“Where—”
“There’s an inside pocket in my pants—”
I practically rip his clothes off. There’s a small pocket sewn
into the lining of his cargo pants. I slip my hand inside and
retrieve a compact pocketknife. A butterfly knife. I’ve seen
these before.
They’re illegal.
I start stacking boxes on the conveyor belt. Climb my way
up and hope to God I know what I’m doing. The knife is
extremely sharp, and it works quickly to undo the bindings. I
realize a little belatedly that the rope holding him together
is the same cord we used to escape.
Adam is cut free. I’m climbing down, refolding the knife
and tucking it into my pocket. I don’t know how I’m going to
get Adam out of here. His wrists are rubbed raw, bleeding,
his body pounded into one piece of pain, his leg bloodied
through with a bullet.
He nearly falls over.
I try to hold on as tenderly as possible, try to hold him
close as best I can without hurting him. He doesn’t say a
word about the pain, tries so hard to hide the fact that he’s
having trouble breathing. He’s wincing against the torture of