Ignite Me (Shatter Me, #3)

by Tahereh Mafi

I am no longer afraid of fear, and I will not let it rule me. Fear will learn to fear me.

“You think you’ve had it hard,” he’s saying to me. “Living in psych wards and being thrown in jail—you think that was difficult. But what you don’t realize is that you’ve always had a roof over your head, and food delivered to you on a regular basis.” His hands are clenching, unclenching. “And that’s more than most people will ever have. You have no idea what it’s really like to live out here—no idea what it’s like to starve and watch your family die in front of you. You have no idea,” he says to me, “what it means to truly suffer. Sometimes I think you live in some fantasy land where everyone survives on optimism—but it doesn’t work that way out here. In this world you’re either alive, about to die, or dead. There’s no romance in it. No illusion. So don’t try to pretend you have any idea what it means to be alive today. Right now. Because you don’t.”

I officially hate Adam :D

Words, I think, are such unpredictable creatures.

I’d rather be shot dead screaming for justice than die alone in a prison of my own making.”

“Do you never get exhausted being so wholly unbearable? You have as much charisma as the rotting innards of unidentified roadkill.”

I need air. I need a new brain. I need to jump out of a window and catch a ride with a dragon to a world far from here.

“Good for you. I’ll buy you a balloon the minute the world stops shitting on itself.”

In my case, I have seventeen years of psychological trauma to undo.

“You’ve been hit extra hard with the stupid stick today.”

“Water that never moves,” I say to him. “It’s fine for a little while. You can drink from it and it’ll sustain you. But if it sits too long it goes bad. It grows stale. It becomes toxic.”

“Why do you call her ‘love’?” James asks. “I’ve heard you say that before, too. A lot. Are you in love with her? I think Adam’s in love with her. Kenji’s not in love with her, though. I already asked him.” Warner blinks at him. “Well?” James asks. “Well what?” “Are you in love with her?” “Are you in love with her?” “What?” James blushes. “No. She’s like a million years older than me.”

“I love you,” I whisper. “I love you exactly as you are.”

“Lift your hips for me, love,”

h e l l i s e m p t y a n d a l l t h e d e v i l s a r e h e r e

Twice. Once for Adam. Once for Warner.