Shatter Me

Truth is a jealous, vicious mistress that never ever sleeps, is what I don’t tell him.

Because I care about you

I’ve been locked up for 264 days.

You’re the only good thing left in this world.”

I’m begging myself not to burst into tears and I don’t know if it’s working. I’m everything broken and glued back together and blushing everywhere and I can hardly find the strength to meet his gaze.

I realize he’s trying to end the conversation.

“C’mon, man, I just wanna see her—”

“She’s not a goddamn spectacle, Kenji. Get the hell out of here.”

“Wait—just tell me: Does she light shit on fire with her eyes?” Kenji laughs and I cringe

The little boy was different.

I wanted to help him. I felt such a surge of sudden anger toward his mother for neglecting his cries. Her lack of compassion as a parent devastated me and it reminded me too much of my own mother. I just wanted to help him. I wanted him to know that someone else was listening— that someone else cared. I didn’t understand why it felt so strange and exhilarating to touch him. I didn’t know that I was draining his life and I couldn’t comprehend why he’d grown limp and quiet in my arms. I thought maybe the rush of power and positive feeling meant that I’d been cured of my horrible disease. I thought so many stupid things and I ruined everything.

I thought I was helping.

I’m going to show you exactly what choice I’ve made. I’m going to memorize every inch of your body with my lips.”

I’m shocked by my own lack of self-control, but I’m not sure I know how to contain these feelings. Adam makes me hungry for things I never knew I could have.

He looks at me with so much emotion I nearly crack in half.

“I’m still not interested,” I remind him, an edge to my voice.

“Yes, but let’s not forget that this”—he motions to his battered face—“is not permanent.”

“Well, I’m permanently uninterested.”