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

It takes every broken filament in my being to pull away
from him. I do it because I have to. Because it’s for his own
good. Someone is sticking forks in my back as I trip away.
The blanket catches my foot and I nearly fall before Adam
reaches out to me again. “Juliette—”
“You can’t t-touch me.” My breathing is shallow and hard
to swallow, my fingers shaking so fast I clench them into a
fist. “You can’t touch me. You can’t.” My eyes are trained on
the door.
He’s on his feet. “Why not?”
“You just can’t,” I whisper to the walls.
“I don’t understand—why won’t you talk to me? You sit in
the corner all day and write in your book and look at
everything but my face. You have so much to say to a piece
of paper but I’m standing right here and you don’t even
acknowledge me. Juliette, please—” He reaches for my arm
and I turn away. “Why won’t you at least look at me? I’m not
going to hurt you—”
You don’t remember me. You don’t remember that we
went to the same school for 7 years.
You don’t remember me.
“You don’t know me.” My voice is even, flat; my limbs
numb, amputated. “We’ve shared one space for two weeks
and you think you know me but you don’t know anything
about me. Maybe I am crazy.”
“You’re not,” he says through clenched teeth. “You know
you’re not.”
“Then maybe it’s you,” I say carefully, slowly. “Because
one of us is.”
“That’s not true—”
“Tell me why you’re here, Adam. What are you doing in an
insane asylum if you don’t belong here?”
“I’ve been asking you the same question since I got here.”
“Maybe you ask too many questions.”
I hear his hard exhalation of breath. He laughs a bitter
laugh. “We’re practically the only two people who are alive