Destroy Me (Shatter Me, #1.5)

by Tahereh Mafi

Torture is not torture when there’s any hope of relief.

Ridiculous. I wanted her to know me; I wanted her to talk

to me.

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

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.

The story of a child abused by its parents. Locked away and discarded.

It’s a horrifying, addicting kind of thing.

The Reestablishment said they would help us. Save us. Rebuild our society. Instead they tore us all apart.

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.

I’ve had an obsession with cleanliness for as long as I can remember.

The warm water makes me feel weightless. It carries my burdens for me, understanding

that I need a moment to relieve my shoulders of this weight.

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.

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

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.

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.