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

doesn’t know I’m a monster my secret. I wonder how long
this will last before he’s running for his life.
I’ve forgotten to answer and he’s still studying me.
I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear only to change my
mind. “Why do you stare so much?”
His eyes are careful, curious. “I figured the only reason
they would lock me up with a girl was because you were
crazy. I thought they were trying to torture me by putting
me in the same space as a psychopath. I thought you were
my punishment.”
“That’s why you stole my bed.” To exert power. To stake a
claim. To fight first.
He drops his eyes. Clasps and unclasps his hands before
rubbing the back of his neck. “Why’d you help me? How’d
you know I wouldn’t hurt you?”
I count my fingers to make sure they’re still there. “I
didn’t.”
“You didn’t help me or you didn’t know if I’d hurt you?”
“Adam.” My lips curve around the shape of his name. I’m
surprised to discover how much I love the easy, familiar way
the sound rolls off my tongue.
He’s sitting almost as still as I am. His eyes are pulled
together with a new kind of emotion I can’t place. “Yeah?”
“What’s it like?” I ask, each word quieter than the one
before. “Outside?” In the real world. “Is it worse?”
An ache mars the features of his finely chiseled face. It
takes him a few heartbeats to answer. He glances out the
window. “Honestly? I’m not sure if it’s better to be in here or
out there.”
I follow his eyes to the pane of glass separating us from
reality and I wait for his lips to part; I wait to listen to him
speak. And then I try to pay attention as his words bounce
around in the haze of my head, fogging my senses, misting
my eyes, clouding my concentration.
Did you know it was an international movement? Adam
asks me.