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

Chapter Forty-Three
I’m an old creaky staircase when I wake up.
Someone has scrubbed me clean. My skin is like satin. My
eyelashes are soft, my hair is smooth, brushed out of its
knots; it gleams in the artificial light, a chocolate river
lapping the pale shore of my skin, soft waves cascading
around my collarbone. My joints ache; my eyes burn from an
insatiable exhaustion. My body is naked under a heavy
sheet. I’ve never felt so pristine.
I’m too tired to be bothered by it.
My sleepy eyes take inventory of the space I’m in, but
there’s not much to consider. I’m lying in bed. There are 4
walls. 1 door. A small table beside me. A glass of water on
the table. Fluorescent lights humming above me. Everything
is white.
Everything I’ve ever known is changing.
I reach for the glass of water and the door opens. I pull the
sheet up as high as it will go.
“How are you feeling?”
A tall man is wearing plastic glasses. Black frames. A
simple sweater. Pressed pants. His sandy-blond hair falls
into his eyes.
He’s holding a clipboard.
“Who are you?”
He grabs a chair I hadn’t noticed was sitting in the corner.
Pushes it forward. Sits down beside my bed. “Do you feel
dizzy? Disoriented?”
“Where’s Adam?”
He’s holding his pen to a sheet of paper. Writing something
down. “Do you spell your last name with two rs? Or just
one?”