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

created by sentences, a figment of imagination formed
through fiction.
They want to delete every point of punctuation in my life
from this earth and I don’t think I can let that happen.
I slip back into my old clothes and tiptoe into the bedroom
only to find it abandoned. Adam is gone even though he
said he would stay. I don’t understand him I don’t
understand his actions I don’t understand my
disappointment. I wish I didn’t love the freshness of my skin,
the feel of being perfectly clean after so long; I don’t
understand why I still haven’t looked in the mirror, why I’m
afraid of what I’ll see, why I’m not sure if I’ll recognize the
face that might stare back at me.
I open the armoire.
It’s bursting with dresses and shoes and shirts and pants
and clothing of every kind, colors so vivid they hurt my
eyes, material I’ve only ever heard of, the kind I’m almost
afraid to touch. The sizes are perfect too perfect.
They’ve been waiting for me.
The sky is raining bricks right into my skull.
I’ve been neglected abandoned ostracized and dragged
from my home. I’ve been poked prodded tested and thrown
in a cell. I’ve been studied. I’ve been starved. I’ve been
tempted with friendship only to be left betrayed and
trapped into this nightmare I’m expected to be grateful for.
My parents. My teachers. Adam. Warner. The
Reestablishment. I am expendable to all of them.
They think I’m a doll they can dress up and twist into
prostration.
But they’re wrong.
“Warner is waiting for you.”
I spin around and fall back against the armoire, slamming
it closed in the craze of panic clutching my heart. I steady
myself and fold away my fear when I see Adam standing at
the door. His mouth moves for a moment but he says