Imagine Me (Shatter Me, #6)

by Tahereh Mafi

There’s a seismic crack— And sound comes back online. Sound so violent it rips open something inside of me, and when I finally tear my hands away from my ears they’re red, dripping. I stagger as my head pounds. Rings. Rings.

Ok clearly emmaline doesnt want you there so brfore you get even more hurt go back to base.

Slithering, terrifying horror moves through my body as I understand: Emmaline was in my head. She wanted to see if she could get me to kill myself.

Why?

Like she was hoping that if I killed myself while she was in my head, somehow I’d be able to kill her, too.

Oh well thats kind of rude.

knew it was bad, but for some reason I didn’t think it was this bad. J looks like she’s going to die.

why is emmaline being evil?

“We’re just supposed to gamble on a ten-year-old’s life? Let him remain imprisoned and tortured at the hands of a sociopath and hope for the best? Are you serious?”

Yes gamble the life of a ten year old FOR THE FATE OF THE WORLD.

Ian says, “Juliette is probably going to die, you know that, right?” Relief and irritation flood through me simultaneously. I manage to roll my eyes and shake my head at the same time. “Stop doing this, Sanchez. Don’t be that guy. It’s not funny anymore.” “I’m not trying to be funny.”

Hahahaha. You are being funny because you dont know that ellas the main character. She cant die.

And even after we were taken hostage by Anderson”—he nods an acknowledgment at Brendan and Winston—“she took her sweet time trying to get information out of Warner. She never gave a shit about the rest of us, and all we’ve ever done is put everything on the line to protect her.” “Hey, that’s not fair,” Winston says, shaking his head. “She was in an awful position—” “Whatever,” Ian mutters. He looks down, into his tea. “This whole situation is some kind of bullshit.”

I can see where ian is coming from.

A single gunshot explodes without warning, ripping open a hole in Anderson’s throat.

Now make sure he stays dead. Slice him up into pieces or burn him.

Castle comes out of nowhere, knocking the soldier off his feet, stopping the bullets with a single gesture. He redirects the ammunition meant for my body, and I don’t even realize what’s happened until I see the dude drop to his knees.

Castles OP. He can stop bullets.

Without warning, Anderson raises his arm and fires two shots. The first, at Nazeera, hitting her square in the chest. The second— At me.

Why them?

Warner standing over Anderson’s body, his right hand clenched around the handle of the machete he’s buried in his father’s chest. He plants his right foot on his father’s gut, and, roughly, pulls out the blade.

Ok so that was step one. you guys are good at hurting him but you wont do step two. Steptwo is to make sure hes dead.

“Do you think we’ll find him?” she asks, her voice practically a whisper. I look up. There’s a yearning there—something more than general concern in her tone. I turn fully to meet her eyes, but she won’t look at me. She’s suddenly blushing.

She likes adam.

I squeeze my eyes shut, try to take deep breaths. “Listen, don’t stress about this, okay? We’re going to get them back. And when we do, I’m going to murder Adam myself.” James gasps. “Ignore him,” Warner says. “He doesn’t mean it.”

How the tables have turned.

Anderson shoves his hands in his pockets and leans against the window frame. He stares at me with something resembling fascination, and it’s such a pure moment, a moment so untainted by malice that he strikes me, suddenly, as beautiful. More than that. The sight of him—something about his eyes, something about the way he moves, the way he smiles— The sight of him suddenly stirs something in my heart. Ancient heat. A kaleidoscope of dead butterflies kicked up by a brief, dry gust of wind.

Barf. Ewwwwwww. Nasty.

Anderson’s face breaks into a smile so wide it electrifies his features. He looks young. He looks kind. He looks wonderful. “My God,” he says softly. “You’re perfect.”

This whole chapter had me cringing so bad.

A couple of people turn to stare at me. The normally busy paths are pretty empty right now because so many of us are still convalescing, but the few people lingering in the bright sun shoot me dirty looks. Like I’m the weirdo. “Leave him alone,” someone hisses at me.

Like you know what warner needs. Get out.

And from this vantage point, I can’t help but admire the way he moves. He has an impressive, muscular frame—broad shoulders, narrow waist, strong legs—but I marvel most at the way he carries himself.

Stop it im going to barf.

Her defensive posture melts away, and suddenly she’s just a girl—my girl—and

Oh when did you get so possesive?

“Who killed my dad?” My stomach turns to stone. I take a sharp breath before I say, “Warner did that.”

I thought ella did.

I’m knocked backward by the force of it, and when I look up, eyes burning, Nazeera is there. Nazeera, Lena, Stephan, Haider, Valentina, Nicolás, and Adam. Adam.

Woohoo