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

I hope I disappoint Warner in every possible way.
The dining room is big enough to feed thousands of
orphans. Instead, there are 7 banquet tables draped across
the room, blue silk spilling across the tabletops, crystal
vases bursting with orchids and stargazer lilies, glass bowls
filled with gardenias. It’s enchanting. I wonder where they
got the flowers from. They must not be real. I don’t know
how they could be real. I haven’t seen real flowers in years.
Warner is positioned at the table directly in the middle,
seated at the head. As soon as he sees me Adam he stands
up. The entire room stands in turn.
I realize almost immediately that there is an empty seat on
either side of him and I don’t intend to stop moving but I do.
I take quick inventory of the attendees and can’t count any
other women.
Adam brushes the small of my back with 3 fingertips and
I’m startled out of my skin. I hurry forward and Warner
beams at me. He pulls out the chair on his left and gestures
for me to sit down. I do.
I try not to look at Adam as he sits across from me.
“You know . . . there are clothes in your armoire, my dear.”
Warner sits down beside me; the room reseats itself and
resumes a steady stream of chatter. He’s turned almost
entirely in my direction but somehow the only presence I’m
aware of is directly across from me. I focus on the empty
plate 2 inches from my fingers. I drop my hands in my lap.
“And you don’t have to wear those dirty tennis shoes
anymore,” Warner continues, stealing another glance before
pouring something into my cup. It looks like water.
I’m so thirsty I could inhale a waterfall.
I hate his smile.
Hate looks just like everybody else until it smiles. Until it
spins around and lies with lips and teeth carved into the
semblance of something too passive to punch.
“Juliette?”