Imagine Me (Shatter Me, #6)

by Tahereh Mafi

“She clearly has a type,” Max is saying. “At this point, it’s practically written in her DNA.”

“You know, your kids aren’t funny, either,” Max says, ignoring him. “Interesting how that works, isn’t it?” Anderson groans. Max only laughs louder. I frown.

The problem is, all this kindness comes with a price. Six different girls (and two guys) have shown up so far, each one of them expecting payment for their generosity in the form of a conversation with Warner, which—obviously—never happens.

But they usually settle for a good long look at him. It’s weird.

“I find it boring,” Warner says. “Besides, if I paid attention to every single person who found me attractive I’d never have time for anything else.” I nearly drop the potatoes.

“Hey,” I say, “speaking of things that disgust me— Do you maybe want to, like, wash a little bit of the blood off your face before we eat?” Warner glares at me in response.

“Okay. Cool. That’s fine.”

“Actually, I heard that blood’s good for you. You know—organic. Antioxidants and shit. Ve...

“Say ah. The tofu choo choo is coming.” “One more joke, Kishimoto, and I will remove your spine.” “You’re right.” I put down the fork. “I get it. I’m cranky when I’m hungry, too.”

“So,” I finally say. “You proposed, huh?” Warner stops chewing and looks up. He strikes me, suddenly, as a young guy.

Whatever is happening in Warner’s head right now is dark. Serious. And I need to handle this part of the conversation with care.

That’s why losing Omega Point was so cataclysmic. It was the amalgamation of nearly all my fears. So many people I loved had been wiped out overnight. My home.

And I’m looking at Warner right now and I see the same deadness behind his eyes. The torture that chases hope. That specific flavor of self-hatred experienced only after being dealt a tragic blow in response to optimism.

I’m looking at him and I’m remembering the look on his face when he blew out his birthday candles.

I throw down my fork. The plastic hits the foil plate with a surprising thud. “You two were engaged?”

Warner is staring at his food. He seems calm, but when he says, “Yes,” the word is a whisper so sad it drags a knife through my heart.

Eventually, he stabs a piece of broccoli. Stares at it. “This is disgusting,” he says. Which I realize is code for Thank you. “Yeah,” I say. “It is.” Which is code for No worries, bro. I’m here for you.

I spin around, stunned. Warner has the girl pinned to the wall, his hand around her throat. “Who sent you here?” he says.

OH OH OH I KNOW I KNOW ITS LENA OR WTV HER NAME IS

I blink and Warner’s got her on the floor, on her knees. His boot is planted in the middle of her back, both of her arms bent backward, locked in his grip. He twists. She cries out. “Who sent you here?”

Sanctuary—I notice the food begin to move. Three massive scorpions begin to scuttle out from underneath the noodles, and the sight is so disturbing I nearly throw up and pass out at the same time. I’ve never seen scorpions in real life.

Breaking news: they’re horrifying.

I thought I wasn’t afraid of spiders, but this is like if spiders were on crack, like if spiders were very, very large and kind of see-through and wore armor and had huge, venomous sting...

She’s breathing hard now, still staring at the scorpions as she backs farther into a corner. They’re climbing up her shoes now.

“I see,” he says, tilting his head at her. “Someone lied to you.” Her eyes widen.

“You were misled,” he says, holding her gaze. “I am not kind. I am not forgiving. I do not care about your life.” As he speaks, the scorpions creep farther up her body.

I shoot. The sound echoes, expands—it seems violently loud—but it’s a perfect shot. A clean hole through the neck.

Eight glass cylinders, each as tall as the room and as wide as a desk, are arranged in a perfect line, straight across the laboratory. Five of them contain human figures.

There are three boys I don’t recognize. One girl I don’t recognize. The other— I step closer to the tank and gasp. Valentina.

“It means that a rabid dog could sniff out your desperate, broken state. You’re in no position to judge me.” “Excuse me?”

her name was Amelia—after Warner.

Warner’s eyes flash. “I want to hurt people all the time,” he says.

“Sometimes I can’t sleep at night because I’m thinking about all the people I’d like to murder.”

“Amelia was a psycho, Castle wants to be BFFs with Anderson, Warner has midnight fantasies about killing people, and Castle made Amelia think that Warner is a lost little bunny trying to find his way home.”

He pretty much told her that Warner was about as harmful as a dumpling.”

“Wait—” I grab Warner’s arm and he shoves me off. “If you keep touching me without my permission, I will remove your hands from your body.”

I ignore that.

I shoot a quick two-finger salute at everyone and run straight for the door only to slam hard into Nazeera. Nazeera.

“You two aren’t going anywhere without me,” she says.

skeleton. I have a heart, says science, but I am a monster, says society.

when it finally hits me that Nazeera is really here, really awake, really okay, I pull her into my arms.

AWWWW

suddenly she’s just a girl—my girl—and happiness rockets through me.

Like she was always meant to fit here, against my chest....

Nouria’s frown deepens. “You two know Warner left, right?”

“Wait,” she says.

“No time,” I say, already backing out the door. “Warner is going to bail on us, and I c—” “He’s about to take a shower,” Sam says, cutting me off.

I freeze so fast I nearly fall over. I turn around, eyebrows hi...

Nazeera raises a single eyebrow. “So you’re just, like, watching a naked Warner in the shower right now?”

“I’m not looking at his body,” Sam says, sounding very close to irritated. “But you could,” I say, stunned.

“Besides, we don’t love him for his jokes, do we, Nazeera?” The two of them lock eyes for a moment. “We love him for his heart.”

Nouria meets my eyes. “If they’d done the transfer,” she says, “we would’ve felt it.”