Destroy Me (Shatter Me, #1.5)

by Tahereh Mafi

She is a soft, deadly creature. Kind and timid and terrifying. She’s completely out of control and has no idea what she’s capable of. And even though she hates me, I can’t help but be fascinated by her. I’m enchanted by her pretend-innocence; jealous, even, of the power she wields so unwittingly. I want so much to be a part of her world. I want to know what it’s like to be in her mind, to feel what she feels. It seems a tremendous weight to carry.

What a beautiful disaster.

I lost sight of my purpose and my greater goal; the entire reason I brought her on base. I was stupid. Careless. But the truth is, I was distracted. By her.

That this girl would know exactly how to shatter me.

“Do you still love me?”

And I think yes, I wouldn’t mind doing the kind of work that would remove Adam Kent from this world. A traitor like him does not deserve to live.

a glimpse of her face for the very first time. She pressed her palm to the window and whispered two words, just once. Forgive me.

crazy. I was jealous. Ridiculous. I wanted her to know me; I wanted her to talk to me. And I felt it then: this strange, inexplicable sense that she might be the only person in the world I could really care about. I force myself to sit up. I hazard a glance at the notebook still clutched in my hand. I lost her. She hates me. She hates me and I repulse her and I might never see her again, and it is entirely my own doing.

This pen is my only outlet, my only voice, because I have no one else to speak to, no mind but my own to drown in and all the lifeboats are taken and all the life preservers are broken and I don’t know how to swim I can’t swim I can’t swim and it’s getting so hard. It’s getting so hard. It’s like there are a million screams caught inside of my chest but I have to keep them all in because what’s the point of screaming if you’ll never be heard and no one will ever hear me in here. No one will ever hear me again.

And suddenly this small, battered notebook means more to me than anything I’ve ever owned.

I started screaming today.

And those four words hit me harder than the worst kind of physical pain.

It’s a strange thing, to never know peace. To know that no matter where you go, there is no sanctuary. That

the threat of pain is always a whisper away.

They think of me as little more than a deranged child. They do not respect me; they are not loyal to me. They are disappointed that I stand before them; angry; disgusted, even, that I am not dead of this wound. But they do fear me. And that is all I require.

“Let their fates serve as an example to you. We do not welcome traitors in The Reestablishment. And we do not forgive.”

Where even my own mind is a traitor. I should be stronger than this. I’ve been training for just over a decade. Every day I’ve worked to hone my physical and mental strengths. I’m five feet, nine inches and 170 pounds of muscle. I’ve been built to survive, to maximize endurance and stamina, and I’m most comfortable when I’m holding a gun in my hand. I can fieldstrip, clean, reload, disassemble, and reassemble more than 150 different types of firearms. I can shoot a target through the center from almost any distance. I can break a person’s windpipe with only the edge of my hand. I can temporarily paralyze a man with nothing but my knuckles.

Because the truth is, I am nothing but a coward.

But I do live by a certain kind of code. And sometimes, I think, you have to learn how to shoot first.

And some days I wonder why I insist on keeping myself alive.

Everything seems to be catching up with me at once. My failures. My cowardice. My stupidity. Sometimes I’m just so tired of this life.

I’ve come to believe that the most dangerous man in the world is the one who feels no remorse. The one who never apologizes and therefore seeks no forgiveness. Because in the end it is our emotions that make us weak, not our actions.

People seldom realize that they tell lies with their lips and truths with their eyes all the time.

“They infiltrated your troops. Lived among you in secret. And now they’ve stolen your toy and run away with it. God only knows how they hope to manipulate her for their own benefit.”

I could live here, I think. Live where gravity does not know my name. Here I am unbound, untethered by the chains of this life. I am a different body, a different shell, and my weight is carried by the hands of friends. So many nights I’ve wished I could fall asleep under this sheet.

I have to find her before she breaks.

I’ve never wanted to cooperate with my father before, never wanted to agree with his motives or his methods. But in this instance, I’m willing to do just about anything to get her back. And I’m eager for any opportunity to snap Kent’s neck.

That traitorous bastard. The idiot who thinks he’s won himself a pretty girl. He has no idea who she is. No i...

And if he thinks he’s even remotely suited to match her, he’s even more of an idiot t...

I’m surprised to discover how much I enjoy the bitter taste of it.

We’ll just consider her collateral damage.”

I fall back against the wall. And crumble to the floor.

Swallow the tears back often enough and they’ll start feeling like acid dripping down your throat.

I’ve wanted few things in this life. I’ve asked for nothing from no one.

I’ve also noticed that the last page is missing. Ripped out. I can’t help but wonder why. I’ve searched through the book a hundred times, looking for other sections where pages might be gone, but I’ve found none. And somehow I feel cheated, knowing there’s a piece I might’ve missed. It’s not even my journal; it’s none of my business at all, but I’ve read her words so many times now that they feel like my own. I can practically recite them from memory.

I almost forget that she still hates me, despite how hard I’ve fallen for her. And I’ve fallen. So hard.

Love is a heartless bastard. I’m driving myself insane. I fall backward onto my bed, fully dressed. Coat, boots, gloves. I’m too tired to take them off. These late-night shifts have left me very little time to sleep. I feel as though I’ve been existing in a constant state of exhaustion.

She’s wearing shoes I know she’d never wear. And strangest of all: she’s smiling at me.

Every nerve ending in my body is awake. I’ve never felt so alive or so desperate in my life, and I’m sure if she could hear what I’m thinking right now, she’d run out the door and never come back. Because I want her. Now. Here. Everywhere. I want nothing between us. I want her clothes off and the lights on and I want to study her. I want to unzip her out of this dress and take my time with every inch of

her.

But now she’s holding a gun. And pointing it at my heart.

I’m beginning to wonder if Kent and Kishimoto and all the others are living among the people in secret.

A tired, starving dog, so thin and frail it looks like it could be knocked over by the wind. But it’s staring at me. Unafraid. Mouth open. Tongue lolling. I want to laugh out loud.

That I would play with a dog.

The dog seems smart enough to understand that now is not the time to bark.

And I can’t help but be amazed at the power such small, unassuming animals wield over us; they so easily break down our defenses.