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by
Tahereh Mafi
“Focus your anger on the brick. On the brick,” he says to me. “Remember. Open mind. You want to crush the brick. Remind yourself that this is what you want. It’s your choice. You’re not doing this for Castle, you’re not doing it for me, you’re not doing it to fight anyone. This is just something you feel like doing. For fun. Because you feel like it. Let your mind and body take over. Okay?” I take a deep breath. Nod a few times. “Okay. I think I’m—” “Holy shit.” He lets out a low whistle. “What?” I spin around. “What happened—” “How did you not just feel that?” “Feel what—” “Look in your
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Omg that easy
“I know. I KNOW. So badass. Now think about it: if you can do that to a brick, imagine what you could do to the human body—”
You fucking idiot
I don’t bother to mention that I have no idea how to reload a weapon. Kenji and I never got to that part in our lesson. He was too busy trying to remind me not to use a gun to gesticulate while asking questions.
Hahahaha
I don’t know how to explain what happens next. All I know is that my hand is around Anderson’s throat and I’ve pinned him to the wall, so overcome by a blind, burning, all-consuming rage that I think my brain has already caught on fire and dissolved into ash. I squeeze a little harder. He’s sputtering. He’s gasping. He’s trying to get at my arms, clawing limp hands at my body and he’s turning red and blue and purple and I’m enjoying it. I’m enjoying it so, so much. I think I’m smiling. I bring my face less than an inch away from his ear and whisper, “Drop the gun.” He does.
I love it so bad ass
“Right.” He exhales a deep breath. “Of course.” Seems to return to himself. “Listen, love, could you at least toss me my jacket if you’re going to stay here and ask me all these questions?”
He calls her love I can’t I love him too I want 10 babies from him
“I love it when you say my name,” he says. “I don’t even know why.” “Warner isn’t your name,” I point out. “Your name is Aaron.” His smile is wide, so wide. “God, I love that.” “Your name?” “Only when you say it.” “Aaron? Or Warner?” His eyes close. He tilts his head back against the wall. Dimples.
They are so cute together
“On the darkest days you have to search for a spot of brightness, on the coldest days you have to seek out a spot of warmth; on the bleakest days you have to keep your eyes onward and upward and on the saddest days you have to leave them open to let them cry. To then let them dry. To give them a chance to wash out the pain in order to see fresh and clear once again.”
A deep inhale. “So much of it was like seeing myself on paper,” he whispers. “Like reading all the things I never knew how to say.” And I wish my heart would just shut up shut up
And I try. I try so hard to remember all the reasons why I’m supposed to hate him, I try to remember all the horrible things I’ve seen him do. But I’m tortured because I understand too much about what it’s like to be tortured. To do things because you don’t know any better. To do things because you think they’re right because you were never taught what was wrong.
He takes a few steps toward me and I don’t know why it affects my breathing. Why I can’t find my mouth.
“Tell me, Juliette. I’d love to know what you really think of me.” “Why?” Barely a whisper in an attempt to buy some time. Warner’s lips flicker up and into a smile before they fall open, just a bit, just enough to twitch into a strange, curious look that lingers in his eyes. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t say a word. He only moves closer to me, studying me and I’m frozen in place, my mouth stuffed full of the seconds he doesn’t speak and I’m fighting every atom in my body, every stupid cell in my system for being so attracted to him. Oh. God. I am so horribly attracted to him.
We don’t have to do anything at all to die. We can hide in a cupboard under the stairs our whole life and it’ll still find us. Death will show up wearing an invisible cloak and it will wave a magic wand and whisk us away when we least expect it. It will erase every trace of our existence on this earth and it will do all this work for free. It will ask for nothing in return. It will take a bow at our funeral and accept the accolades for a job well done and then it will disappear.
Well. Everyone but me, Adam, Castle, and the girls. I find it interesting that everyone refers to Sonya and Sara as “the girls,” as if they’re the only girls in this entire place. They’re not.
“Please.” He says “Please don’t shoot me for this.” And he kisses me.
I’m against the wall. He’s kissing me like the world is rolling right off a cliff, like he’s trying to hang on and he’s decided to hold on to me, like he’s starving for life and love and he’s never known it could ever feel this good to be close to someone. Like it’s the first time he’s ever felt anything but hunger and he doesn’t know how to pace himself, doesn’t know how to eat in small bites, doesn’t know how to do anything anything anything in moderation.
My pants fall to the floor and his hands are responsible.
His fingers hook around the elastic waist of my underwear and I gasp. His lips touch my bare stomach.
“Maybe I just d-don’t want to be with you.” “I know you want to be with me!” he explodes. “You’re wrong.” Oh my God what am I saying I don’t even know where I’m finding these words, where they’re coming from or which tree I’ve plucked them from. They just keep growing in my mouth and sometimes I bite down too hard on an adverb or a pronoun and sometimes the words are bitter, sometimes they’re sweet, but right now everything tastes like romance and regret and liar liar pants on fire all the way down my throat. Warner is still staring.
He spins around and he says, “I do not want your sympathy!” “I wasn’t trying to hurt you—” “The truth,” he says, “is a painful reminder of why I prefer to live among the lies.”
All I can think about are all the casualties and Warner’s lips on my neck, his hands on my body, the pain and passion in his eyes and the many possible ways I could die today. I can only think about Warner touching me, kissing me, torturing me with his heart and Adam sitting beside me, not knowing what I’ve done. It probably won’t even matter after today.
“Castle wants me to be happy,” Kenji says matter-of-factly. “And I won’t be happy if I stay here. I’ve got work to do. People to save. Ladies to impress. He’d respect that.”
I topple right into the hot water fully clothed, gloves and boots and suit intact and it’s an unbelievable pleasure I didn’t expect to experience. My bones begin to thaw and my teeth are slowing their chatter and my muscles are learning to relax. My hair floats up around my face and I feel it tickle my nose. I sink beneath the surface. I fall asleep.
He glances at Warner. “Are you listening? Pay close attention now. Are you watching?” He pulls out a gun. And shoots me in the chest.
I have no idea how long I’ve been lying here. “Juliette? JULIETTE—” Warner’s voice is a rope I want to cling to. I
