Believe Me (Shatter Me #6.5)

by Tahereh Mafi

cannot know the fear I experience when I leave Ella behind.

now, whenever I can’t see her, my brain tries to convince me she’s dead.

I fear her news is bleak; no doubt Ella’s life is at risk in some new way we’d not anticipated.

I want nothing more than to escape this noise with Ella. I want, above all else, for her to be safe. I want people to stop trying to kill her. I want, for the first time in my life, to live in peace, undisturbed; I want to be required by no one but my wife.

he is so dedicated to her

These, I realize, are unattainable fantasies.

Between him and the dog trailing me, I’d choose the dog.

Sometimes I’m so desperate for quiet I think I might commit murder for a moment of silence.

When we later took over 45, I retained the privacy of my rooms. Here, I am losing my mind.

She insists, despite my unassailable protests, that I take the bed while she sleeps on the floor. It’s the only time I ever get upset with her.

My need for silence has grown debilitating. Sometimes I think if I could kill this part of me, I would.

Kenji’s words belie his emotions. He’s genuinely happy for us; I can feel it.

I worry, constantly, that despite my efforts, I will not be able to be what she wants.

This design is matched in the wedding band: a fine, curving branch rendered in gold, bare but for two tiny emerald leaves growing on opposite sides of the same path.

If Ella were a house, she would be a grand home, one with many rooms and doors, all of which were easily unlocked, flung open. If I were a house, I would be haunted.

“I—well. I’m really sorry, Warner, but we’re going to have to postpone the wedding.” I stare at her.

“Warner,” she says quietly. “It was Juliette’s idea.”

WHATTT

It’s strange: of all the reprehensible things I’ve known myself to be, I’d never thought I was stupid.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I love you so much. I just want to do this right—for both of us. I want you to have a beautiful wedding. I think it matters more to you than you think.” “It doesn’t,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t care, love. I don’t care about any of it. I just want you. I want you to be my family.”

I move slowly at first, kissing her cheek and lingering there, pressing my face to the softness of her skin. There’s no one here but us.

No thoughts but hers and mine.

warmth. I shiver slightly as the temperatures plummet, but I can ignore the cold. I cannot, however, seem to ignore the dull ache in my chest.

When I woke up this morning I’d thought this would be the happiest day of my life. Instead, as the day approaches dusk— I feel hollow.

I sigh at the sight of its eager, upturned face. “I suppose I shouldn’t be ungrateful. You seem to be the only one interested in my company today.” A bark. “Very well. You may come with me.”

I meet the dog’s deep, dark eyes. We’re both quiet, assessing each other.

“You mean to tell me that you like the idea of taking a bath?” Another happy bark. “How strange,” I say, turning once more down the path. “So do I.”

my mind has always been my fiercest adversary.

When I realized the Sanctuary was to be our new, permanent home, I insisted we make changes.

This was when Nouria and I first discovered the depth of our mutual dislike.

I do my work most days surrounded by the ancient hieroglyphics of sticky children;

crayon drawings of indecipherable creatures are thumbtacked to the wall above my desk;

crudely formed bees and butterflies flutter f...

The truth is, I learned to enjoy the mechanics of life with her by my side; her presence renders my world brighter, the details richer.

but today has been ripe not merely with disappointment but also concerning obfuscations.

I'm highlighting this js because of that big word

All I’ve wanted for so long was a single moment of quiet, and now that I have it in abundance, I’m not sure I want it.

They’ve romanticized me in their minds, these people, romanticized the very idea of my existence, and often objectify me in the process.

literally everyone who has read this series

“Does he have a name?” she’d asked. “He is a dog,” I’d said, frowning as I looked up. “You may call him a dog.”

IM DEADDDD

It confirmed for me then what I’ve always known to be true—that most people are disappointing and should be avoided.

I see now that I have to make something clear, so remember this:

I would happily watch the world go up in flames if anything happened to her, and if that’s not enough for you, you can go to hell.”

My body is not unlike the moon, cratered so thoroughly by brutality it’s hard to imagine it untouched by violence.

Winston, I’m baffled to discover, is very nervous to be near me.

I abandon the bathroom, returning to the closed door in only my boxer briefs. “Come get me for what?”

He equivocates, saying only: “Um, yeah, I can’t actually tell you.”

They got a surrrprise for you pretty thang

I’ve always been toned, but this is different. My face has lost any lingering softness. My chest is broader, my legs more firmly planted.

These slight changes in muscle definition, in vascularity— I can see myself getting older.

In another world, I might not know the weight of death,

I didn’t understand then that a home is not always a place. Sometimes, it’s a person.

MY TEARS FOR TONIGHT

I would sleep on the cold floor of our hospital room for the rest of my life if it meant staying by Ella’s side.

Despite my every silent protest, hope takes hold of me, forces from me the dregs of my composure.

I lean my forehead against the cool tile, the water beating the scars on my back. I can hardly feel it, the sensations there dulled from nerve damage. Scar tissue.