Restore Me (Shatter Me, #4)

by Tahereh Mafi

“Wait, what’s that?” He cups his hand over his ear. “You’re worried I’m going to leave you for another woman?”

I feel like she’s hiding from me. Or maybe I’ve been hiding from her.

I worry we might both be drowning in revelations. I’m certain I am.

I need to tell her that she has her own armory. That she has a fleet of private cars; a personal chauffeur. Several private jets and pilots at her disposal. And then I wonder, suddenly, whether she’s ever been on a plane.

She’s never lived anywhere but in books and memories.

who? me?

“When is it, exactly?” she says, and I feel Haider’s curiosity grow suddenly more intense. “You’ve not looked at your invitation?” he asks, all innocence. “The event is in two days.”

I see that her cheeks are flushed. I can feel her sudden embarrassment and it breaks my heart. I hate Haider for toying with her like this.

They’re not interested in forging alliances. They’re only here to figure out how much work it will take to destroy us.

My fingers tense, itching to form fists, and I’m just about to respond when Juliette, who’s been watching us closely from a distance, says, “Let go of him.”

YESSSSS

“Touch him one more time,” Juliette says quietly, “and I will rip your heart out of your body.”

But I can only smile at her. I want to scoop her up and carry her away. Take her somewhere quiet and lose myself in her. I love that the girl who blushes so easily in my arms is the same one who would kill a man for hurting me.

somehow time slows down long enough for me to gather the many details of this moment and place it among my favorite memories.

best of all, it makes it possible for me to know how deeply Juliette loves me.

I can always feel the rush of emotion in her words, in her eyes. The certainty that she would fight for me. Protect me.

And knowing this makes my heart feel so full that, sometimes, when we’re togethe...

I wonder if she knows that I would do any...

reason 4879 to love warner

Warner is wearing a dark, bloodred suit today. No tie, and no overcoat—even though it’s freezing outside—just a black shirt underneath the blazer, and a pair of black boots.

this just sounds so ahhhh

heavy boots leaving prints in the sand—makes for a striking image, but they’re definitely overdressed for the occasion.

Nazeera hesitates. “I thought I just heard you say you had a bunch of things to do.” “What? No.” He laughs. “Zero things to do. I’m all yours. For whatever. You know.”

Where’s the love and support I require at this difficult hour? I need you to be my wingwoman.” “You do know that I can hear you, right?” Nazeera tilts her head to one side,

I wish I could ask her where she gets her clothes.

poor j i actually feel so bad for her

“Listen,” she says softly. “You’re cute. Really cute. You’ve got a great face. But this,” she says, gesturing between them, “is not happening.”

Kenji doesn’t appear to have heard her. “You think I’ve got a great face?”

pat his arm, try to sound sympathetic. “It’ll be okay,” I say. “Rejection is har—” “That was amazing.” “Uh. What?”

Last week I found him sitting in his office listening to old vinyl records. I’d seen his record collection before—he

he has a huge stack that was apportioned to him by The Reestablishment along with a selection of old books and artwork—he was supposed to be sorting through it all, deciding what to keep and what to destroy.

But I’d never seen him just sit and li...

Warner had only listened to one of the songs on the record—he’d reset the needle every time the song finished—and

It turned out to be a song called “Like a Rolling Stone.”

There’s a part of me that wants to rip his history open.

You’re so strong and so pretty I mumble, so strong and I want to be like you, I say to her

I can hardly feel my feet as they hit the ground, my heart beating so hard it physically hurts.

I’m bolting toward our half-built medical wing on the fifteenth floor and trying not to drown in the darkness of my own thoughts.

Desperation and terror fuel my need to find her. I stop abruptly in place when the panic returns.

I feel a startling prick behind my eyes. I blink, hard, fight the rush of emotion. How did this happen? I want to ask her.

I’m nearly shaking when I reach the room they’re keeping her in. I almost can’t make sense of her limp, blood-smeared body laid out on the metal table.

“Aaron?” It’s Juliette, Juliette, my Juliette—

“Don’t worry, love,” I say quickly, “we’re going to fix this, okay? The girls are here and we’re going to do this again, just like last time—” “Nazeera,” she says, eyes closed, lips half mumbling. “Yes?” I freeze. “What about Nazeera?” “Saved”—her mouth halts midmotion, then swallows—“my life.”

TAKE THAT WARNER

haven’t thought about them in so long. What happened to them. Where they came from. Who did I leave behind?

My eyes are sealed shut, my lips parted in quiet terror. I haven’t been haunted like this in so long so long so long

in the dark, dusty corners of my mind I feel a strange relief. I am always welcome here in my loneliness, in my sadness

the life I choose to forget has not will never ever forget me

And I unearthed truths I wish every day I could unlearn. There are asylums, just like Juliette’s, all over the world. Unnaturals, as The Reestablishment calls them, were rounded up in the name of science and discovery.

Juliette and her sister were the very first Unnatural finds of The Reestablishment.

Juliette had not yet manifested abilities when she was donated to The Reestablishment by her parents.

No. It was her sister who started it all. Emmaline.

In no time at all The Reestablishment had Emmaline in custody. Juliette was taken as a precaution.

So she was injected with a drug that would destroy critical parts of her memory, and sent to live in Sector 45, under my father’s supervision.

oh my goodness...

Emmaline had kept her real name, but the younger sister, unleashed into the real world, would need an alias.

They renamed her Juliette, planted false memories in her head, and assign...