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

Chapter Eight
It takes me 2 days to open my eyes.
There’s a tin of water and a tin of food set off to the side
and I inhale the cold contents with trembling hands, a dull
ache creaking through my bones, a desperate drought
suffocating my throat. Nothing seems to be broken, but one
glance under my shirt proves the pain was real. The bruises
are discolored blossoms of blue and yellow, torture to touch
and slow to heal.
Adam is nowhere.
I am alone in a block of solitude, 4 walls no more than 10
feet in every direction, the only air creeping in through a
small slot in the door. I’ve just begun to terrorize myself with
my imagination when the heavy metal door slams open. A
guard with 2 rifles strung across his chest looks me up and
down.
“Get up.”
This time I don’t hesitate.
I hope Adam, at least, is safe. I hope he doesn’t come to
the same end I do.
“Follow me.” The guard’s voice is thick and deep, his gray
eyes unreadable. He looks about 25 years old, blond hair
cropped close to the crown, shirtsleeves rolled up to his
shoulders, military tattoos snaking up his forearms just like
Adam’s.
Oh.
God.
No.
Adam steps into the doorway beside the blond and
gestures with his weapon toward a narrow hallway. “Move.”
Adam is pointing a gun at my chest.