Fracture Me (Shatter Me, #2.5)

by Tahereh Mafi

The elephant in the room has made an appearance, and now no one knows what to say.

And I never, ever, ever want to feel what I felt last night. I can’t risk losing James, not ever again.

So many times I was a part of those missions. I always hated Warner, hated The Reestablishment and all it stood for, but now I feel even more strongly about it all. Thinking I’d lost James did something to me last night, and the damage is irreparable.

Losing a parent is excruciating, but somehow, the pain is so much different from losing a child. And James, to me, in many ways, feels like my own kid. I raised him. Took care of him. Protected him. Fed him and clothed him. Taught him most everything he knows. He’s my only hope in all this devastation—the one thing I’ve always lived for, always fought for. I’d be lost without him. James gives my life purpose. And I didn’t realize this until last night.

“Dude, what the hell are you talking about? Aren’t you in love with this girl? Where’s the fire under your ass? I thought you would be dying to get to her right now—”

and Warner will use her as his torture monster.

No he wont

But I know I have a responsibility to Juliette. What would she do if I weren’t there to help her? She needs me.

Shut up?

I love Juliette. I really do. I want to help her and support her and be there for her. I want us to have a future together. But sometimes I wonder if it’s ever going to happen. This isn’t easy to admit, but part of me doesn’t want to put James at risk again—on the run again—for a girl who broke up with me. A girl who walked away from us. I don’t know what the right thing is anymore. I don’t know if my allegiance is to James or Juliette.

Finally, after a long moment of silence, he speaks. Three words. “Juliette is dead.” Chaos.

WRONG

Why? I want to ask. How? How? How is it possible? But I can’t speak. I’m frozen in horror. Grief.

“They said they bombed Omega Point, captured Juliette, and killed her just this morning. The supreme has already headed back to the capital.” “No,” I gasp. “We should’ve gone after her,” Kenji is saying. “I should’ve stayed behind—I should’ve tried to find her—it’s my fault,” he says, hands in his hair, fighting back tears. “It’s my fault she’s dead. I should’ve gone after her—”

But I can’t agree. I trip backward until I hit the wall, leaning against it for support. I know who to blame. I know where the fault lies. Juliette is dead because of me.