Shatter Me Complete Collection Read online

“Tell me why you’re here, Adam. What are you doing in an insane asylum if you don’t belong here?”

  “I’ve been asking you the same question since I got here.”

  “Maybe you ask too many questions.”

  I hear his hard exhalation of breath. He laughs a bitter laugh. “We’re practically the only two people who are alive in this place and you want to shut me out, too?”

  I close my eyes and focus on breathing. “You can talk to me. Just don’t touch me.”

  7 seconds of silence join the conversation. “Maybe I want to touch you.”

  There are 15,000 feelings of disbelief hole-punched in my heart. I’m tempted by recklessness, aching aching aching, desperate forever for what I can never have. I turn my back on him but I can’t keep the lies from spilling out of my lips. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

  He makes a harsh sound. “I disgust you that much?”

  I spin around, so caught off guard by his words I forget myself. He’s staring at me, his face hard, his jaw set, his fingers flexing by his sides. His eyes are 2 buckets of rainwater: deep, fresh, clear.

  Hurt.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I can’t breathe.

  “You can’t just answer a simple question, can you?” He shakes his head and turns to the wall.

  My face is cast in a neutral mold, my arms and legs filled with plaster. I feel nothing. I am nothing. I am empty of everything I will never move. I’m staring at a small crack near my shoe. I will stare at it forever.

  The blankets fall to the floor. The world fades out of focus, my ears outsource every sound to another dimension. My eyes close, my thoughts drift, my memories kick me in the heart.

  I know him.

  I’ve tried so hard to stop thinking about him.

  I’ve tried so hard to forget his face.

  I’ve tried so hard to get those blue blue blue eyes out of my head but I know him I know him I know him it’s been 3 years since I last saw him.

  I could never forget Adam.

  But he’s already forgotten me.

  Chapter Seven

  I remember televisions and fireplaces and porcelain sinks. I remember movie tickets and parking lots and SUVs. I remember hair salons and holidays and window shutters and dandelions and the smell of freshly paved driveways. I remember toothpaste commercials and ladies in high heels and old men in business suits. I remember mailmen and libraries and boy bands and balloons and Christmas trees.

  I remember being 10 years old when we couldn’t ignore the food shortages anymore and things got so expensive no one could afford to live.

  Adam is not speaking to me.

  Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe there was no point hoping he and I could be friends, maybe it’s better he thinks I don’t like him than that I like him too much. He’s hiding a lot of something that might be pain, but his secrets scare me. He won’t tell me why he’s here. Though I don’t tell him much, either.

  And yet and yet and yet.

  Last night the memory of his arms around me was enough to scare away the screams. The warmth of a kind embrace, the strength of firm hands holding all of my pieces together, the relief and release of so many years’ loneliness. This gift he’s given me I can’t repay.

  Touching Juliette is nearly impossible.

  I’ll never forget the horror in my mother’s eyes, the torture in my father’s face, the fear etched in their expressions. Their child was is a monster. Possessed by the devil. Cursed by darkness. Unholy. An abomination. Drugs, tests, medical solutions failed. Psychological cross-examinations failed.

  She is a walking weapon in society, is what the teachers said. We’ve never seen anything like it, is what the doctors said. She should be removed from your home, is what the police officers said.

  No problem at all, is what my parents said. I was 14 years old when they finally got rid of me. When they stood back and watched as I was dragged away for a murder I didn’t know I could commit.

  Maybe the world is safer with me locked in a cell. Maybe Adam is safer if he hates me. He’s sitting in the corner with his fists in his face.

  I never wanted to hurt him.

  I never wanted to hurt the only person who never wanted to hurt me.

  The door crashes open and 5 people swarm into the room, rifles pointed at our chests.

  Adam is on his feet and I’m made of stone. I’ve forgotten to inhale. I haven’t seen so many people in so long I’m momentarily stupefied. I should be screaming.

  “HANDS UP, FEET APART, MOUTHS SHUT. DON’T MOVE AND WE WON’T SHOOT YOU.”

  I’m still frozen in place. I should move, I should lift my arms, I should spread my feet, I should remember to breathe. Someone is cutting off my neck.

  The one barking orders slams the butt of his gun into my back and my knees crack as they hit the floor. I finally taste oxygen and a side of blood. I think Adam is yelling but there is an acute agony ripping through my body unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I’m utterly immobilized.

  “What don’t you understand about keeping your mouth SHUT?” I squint sideways to see the barrel of the gun 2 inches away from Adam’s face.

  “GET UP.” A steel-toed boot kicks me in the ribs, fast, hard, hollow. I’m swallowing nothing but the strangled gasps choking my body. “I said GET UP.” Harder, faster, stronger, another boot in my gut. I can’t even cry out.

  Get up, Juliette. Get up. If you don’t, they’ll shoot Adam.

  I heave myself up to my knees and fall back on the wall behind me, stumbling forward to catch my balance. Lifting my hands is more torture than I knew I could endure. My organs are dead, my bones are cracked, my skin is a sieve, punctured by pins and needles of pain. They’ve finally come to kill me.

  That’s why they put Adam in my cell.

  Because I’m leaving. Adam is here because I’m leaving, because they forgot to kill me on time, because my moments are over, because my 17 years were too many for this world. They’re going to kill me.

  I always wondered how it would happen. I wonder if this will make my parents happy.

  Someone is laughing. “Well aren’t you a little shit?”

  I don’t even know if they’re talking to me. I can hardly focus on keeping my arms upright.

  “She’s not even crying,” someone adds. “The girls are usually begging for mercy by now.”

  The walls are beginning to bleed into the ceiling. I wonder how long I can hold my breath. I can’t distinguish words I can’t understand the sounds I’m hearing the blood is rushing through my head and my lips are 2 blocks of concrete I can’t crack open. There’s a gun in my back and I’m tripping forward. The floors are falling up. My feet are dragging in a direction I can’t decipher.

  I hope they kill me soon.

  Chapter Eight

  It takes me 2 days to open my eyes.

  There’s a tin of water and a tin of food set off to the side and I inhale the cold contents with trembling hands, a dull ache creaking through my bones, a desperate drought suffocating my throat. Nothing seems to be broken, but one glance under my shirt proves the pain was real. The bruises are discolored blossoms of blue and yellow, torture to touch and slow to heal.

  Adam is nowhere.

  I am alone in a block of solitude, 4 walls no more than 10 feet in every direction, the only air creeping in through a small slot in the door. I’ve just begun to terrorize myself with my imagination when the heavy metal door slams open. A guard with 2 rifles strung across his chest looks me up and down.

  “Get up.”

  This time I don’t hesitate.

  I hope Adam, at least, is safe. I hope he doesn’t come to the same end I do.

  “Follow me.” The guard’s voice is thick and deep, his gray eyes unreadable. He looks about 25 years old, blond hair cropped close to the crown, shirtsleeves rolled up to his shoulders, military tattoos snaking up his forearms just like Adam’s.

  Oh.

  God.

  N
o.

  Adam steps into the doorway beside the blond and gestures with his weapon toward a narrow hallway. “Move.”

  Adam is pointing a gun at my chest.

  Adam is pointing a gun at my chest.

  Adam is pointing a gun at my chest.

  His eyes are foreign to me, glassy and distant, far, far away.

  I am nothing but novocaine. I am numb, a world of nothing, all feeling and emotion gone forever.

  I am a whisper that never was.

  Adam is a soldier. Adam wants me to die.

  I stare at him openly now, every sensation amputated, my pain a distant scream disconnected from my body. My feet move forward of their own accord; my lips remain shut because there will never be words for this moment.

  Death would be a welcome release from these earthly joys I’ve known.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been walking before another blow to my back cripples me. I blink against the brightness of light I haven’t seen in so long. My eyes begin to tear and I’m squinting against the fluorescent bulbs illuminating the large space. I can hardly see anything.

  “Juliette Ferrars.” A voice detonates my name. There’s a heavy boot pressed into my back and I can’t lift my head to distinguish who’s speaking to me. “Weston, dim the lights and release her. I want to see her face.” The command is cool and strong like steel, dangerously calm, effortlessly powerful.

  The brightness is reduced to a level I’m able to tolerate. The imprint of a boot is carved into my back but no longer settled on my skin. I lift my head and look up.

  I’m immediately struck by his youth. He can’t be much older than me.

  It’s obvious he’s in charge of something, though I have no idea what. His skin is flawless, unblemished, his jawline sharp and strong. His eyes are the palest shade of emerald I’ve ever seen.

  He’s beautiful.

  His crooked smile is calculated evil.

  He’s sitting on what he imagines to be a throne but is nothing more than a chair at the front of an empty room. His suit is perfectly pressed, his blond hair expertly combed, his soldiers the ideal bodyguards.

  I hate him.

  “You’re so stubborn.” His green eyes are almost translucent. “You never want to cooperate. You wouldn’t even play nice with your cellmate.”

  I flinch without intending to. The burn of betrayal blushes up my neck.

  Green Eyes looks unexpectedly amused and I’m suddenly mortified. “Well isn’t that interesting.” He snaps his fingers. “Kent, would you step forward, please.”

  My heart stops beating when Adam comes into view. Kent. His name is Adam Kent.

  I am aflame from head to toe. Adam flanks Green Eyes in an instant, but only offers a curt nod of his head as a salute. Perhaps the leader isn’t nearly as important as he thinks.

  “Sir,” he says.

  So many thoughts are tangling in my head I can’t untie the insanity knotting itself together. I should’ve known. I’d heard rumors of soldiers living among the public in secret, reporting to the authorities if things seemed suspicious. Every day people disappeared. No one ever came back.

  Though I still can’t understand why Adam was sent to spy on me.

  “It seems you made quite an impression on her.”

  I squint closer at the man in the chair only to realize his suit has been adorned with tiny colored patches. Military mementos. His last name is etched into the lapel: Warner.

  Adam says nothing. He doesn’t look in my direction. His body is erect, 6 feet of gorgeous lean muscle, his profile strong and steady. The same arms that held my body are now holsters for lethal weapons.

  “You have nothing to say about that?” Warner glances at Adam only to tilt his head in my direction, his eyes dancing in the light, clearly entertained.

  Adam clenches his jaw. “Sir.”

  “Of course.” Warner is suddenly bored. “Why should I expect you to have something to say?”

  “Are you going to kill me?” The words escape my lips before I have a chance to think them through and someone’s gun slams into my spine all over again. I fall to the floor with a broken whimper, wheezing into the filthy floor.

  “That wasn’t necessary, Roland.” Warner’s voice is saturated with mock disappointment. “I suppose I’d be wondering the same thing if I were in her position.” A pause. “Juliette?”

  I manage to lift my head.

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  Chapter Nine

  I’m not sure I’m hearing him correctly.

  “You have something I want.” Warner is still staring at me.

  “I don’t understand,” I tell him.

  He takes a deep breath and stands up to pace the length of the room. Adam has not yet been dismissed. “You are kind of a pet project of mine.” Warner smiles to himself. “I’ve studied your records for a very long time.”

  I can’t handle his pompous, self-satisfied strut. I want to break the grin off his face.

  Warner stops walking. “I want you on my team.”

  “What?” A broken whisper of surprise.

  “We’re in the middle of a war,” he says a little impatiently. “Maybe you can put the pieces together.”

  “I don’t—”

  “I know your secret, Juliette. I know why you’re in here. Your entire life is documented in hospital records, complaints to authorities, messy lawsuits, public demands to have you locked up.” His pause gives me enough time to choke on the horror caught in my throat. “I’d been considering it for a long time, but I wanted to make sure you weren’t actually psychotic. Isolation wasn’t exactly a good indicator, though you did fend for yourself quite well.” He offers me a smile that says I should be grateful for his praise. “I sent Adam to stay with you as a final precaution. I wanted to make sure you weren’t volatile, that you were capable of basic human interaction and communication. I must say I’m quite pleased with the results.”

  Someone is ripping my skin off.

  “Adam, it seems, played his part a little too excellently. He is a fine soldier. One of the best, in fact.” Warner spares him a glance before smiling at me. “But don’t worry, he doesn’t know what you’re capable of. Not yet, anyway.”

  I claw at the panic, I swallow the agony, I beg myself not to look in his direction but I fail I fail I fail. Adam meets my eyes in the same split second I meet his but he looks away so quickly I’m not sure if I imagined it.

  I am a monster.

  “I’m not as cruel as you think,” Warner continues, a musical lilt in his voice. “If you’re so fond of his company I can make this”—he gestures between myself and Adam—“a permanent assignment.”

  “No,” I breathe.

  Warner curves his lips into a careless grin. “Oh yes. But be careful, pretty girl. If you do something . . . bad . . . he’ll have to shoot you.”

  There are wire cutters carving holes in my heart. Adam doesn’t react to anything Warner says.

  He is doing a job.

  I am a number, a mission, an easily replaceable object; I am not even a memory in his mind.

  I am nothing.

  I didn’t expect his betrayal to bury me so deep.

  “If you accept my offer,” Warner interrupts my thoughts, “you will live like I do. You will be one of us, and not one of them. Your life will change forever.”

  “And if I do not accept?” I ask, catching my voice before it cracks in fear.

  Warner looks genuinely disappointed. His hands are clasped together in dismay. “You don’t really have a choice. If you stand by my side you will be rewarded.” He presses his lips together. “But if you choose to disobey? Well . . . I think you look rather lovely with all your body parts intact, don’t you?”

  I’m breathing so hard my frame is shaking. “You want me to torture people for you?”

  His face breaks into a brilliant smile. “That would be wonderful.”

  The world is bleeding.

  I don’t have tim
e to form a response before he turns to Adam. “Show her what she’s missing, would you?”

  Adam answers a beat too late. “Sir?”

  “That is an order, soldier.” Warner’s eyes are trained on me, his lips twitching with suppressed amusement. “I’d like to break this one. She’s a little too feisty for her own good.”

  “You can’t touch me,” I spit through clenched teeth.

  “Wrong,” he singsongs. He tosses Adam a pair of black gloves. “You’re going to need these,” he says with a conspiratorial whisper.

  “You’re a monster.” My voice is too even, my body filled with a sudden rage. “Why don’t you just kill me?”

  “That, my dear, would be a waste.” He steps forward and I realize his hands are carefully sheathed in white leather gloves. He tips my chin up with one finger. “Besides, it’d be a shame to lose such a pretty face.”

  I try to snap my neck away from him but the same steel-toed boot slams into my spine and Warner catches my face in his grip. I suppress a scream. “Don’t struggle, love. You’ll only make things more difficult for yourself.”

  “I hope you rot in hell.”

  Warner flexes his jaw. He holds up a hand to stop someone from shooting me, kicking me in the spleen, cracking my skull open, I have no idea. “You’re a fighter for the wrong team.” He stands up straight. “But we can change that. Adam,” he calls. “Don’t let her out of your sight. She’s your charge now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter Ten

  Adam puts on the gloves but he doesn’t touch me. “Let her up, Roland. I’ll take it from here.”

  The boot disappears. I struggle to my feet and stare at nothing. I won’t think about the horror that awaits me. Someone kicks in the backs of my knees and I nearly stumble to the ground. “Get going,” a voice growls from behind. I look up and realize Adam is already walking away. I’m supposed to be following him.

  Only once we’re back in the familiar blindness of the asylum hallways does he stop walking.

  “Juliette.” One soft word and my joints are made of air.

  I don’t answer him.

  “Take my hand,” he says.