Restore Me (Shatter Me #4)(37)

He didn’t notice me when I’d walked in that day.

He was sitting very still, looking only at the wall, and listening to what I later discovered was a Bob Dylan record. I know this because I peeked in his office many hours later, after he’d left. I couldn’t shake my curiosity; Warner had only listened to one of the songs on the record—he’d reset the needle every time the song finished—and I wanted to know what it was. It turned out to be a song called “Like a Rolling Stone.”

I still haven’t told him what I saw that day; I wanted to see if he would share the story with me himself. But he never mentioned it, not even when I asked him what he did that afternoon. It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but the omission made me wonder why he’d keep it from me.

There’s a part of me that wants to rip his history open. I want to know the good and the bad and just get all the secrets out and be done with it. Because right now I feel certain that my imagination is much more dangerous than any of his truths.

But I’m not sure how to make that happen.

Besides, everything is moving so quickly now. We’re all so busy, all the time, and it’s hard enough to keep my own thoughts straight. I’m not even sure where our resistance is headed at the moment. Everything is worrying me. Castle’s worries are worrying me. Warner’s mysteries are worrying me. The children of the supreme commanders are worrying me.

I take in a deep breath and exhale, long and loud.

I’m staring out across the water, trying to clear my mind by focusing on the fluid motions of the ocean. It was just three weeks ago that I’d felt stronger than I ever had in my whole life. I’d finally learned how to make use of my powers; I’d learned how to moderate my strength, how to project—and, most important, how to turn my abilities on and off. And then I’d crushed Anderson’s legs in my bare hands. I stood still while soldiers emptied countless rounds of lead into my body. I was invincible.

But now?

This new job is more than I bargained for.

Politics, it turns out, is a science I don’t yet understand. Killing things, breaking things—destroying things? That, I understand. Getting angry and going to war, I understand. But patiently playing a confusing game of chess with a bunch of strangers from around the world?

God, I’d so much rather shoot someone.


I’m making my way back to base slowly, my shoes filling with sand as I go. I’m actively dreading whatever it is Castle wants to talk to me about, but I’ve been gone for too long already. There’s too much to do, and there’s no way out of this but through. I have to face it. Deal with it, whatever it is. I sigh as I flex and unflex my fists, feeling the power come in and out of my body. It’s still a strange thrill for me, to be able to disarm myself at will. It’s nice to be able to walk around most days with my powers turned off; it’s nice to be able to accidentally touch Kenji’s skin without worrying I’ll hurt him. I scoop up two handfuls of sand. Powers on: I close my fist and the sand is pulverized to dust. Powers off: the sand leaves a vague, pockmarked impression on my skin.

I drop the sand, dusting off the remaining grains from my palms, and squint into the morning sun. I’m searching for the soldiers who’ve been following me this whole time, because, suddenly, I can’t spot them. Which is strange, because I just saw them a minute ago.

And then I feel it—

Pain

It explodes in my back.

It’s a sharp, searing, violent pain and I’m blinded by it in an instant. I spin around in a fury that immediately dulls, my senses dimming even as I attempt to harness them. I pull up my Energy, thrumming suddenly with electricum, and wonder at my own stupidity for forgetting to turn my powers back on, especially out in the open like this. I was too distracted. Too frustrated. I can feel the bullet in my shoulder blade incapacitating me now, but I fight through the agony to try and spot my attacker.

Still, I’m too slow.

Another bullet hits my thigh, but this time I feel it leave only a flesh wound, bouncing off before it can make much of a mark. My Energy is weak—and weakening by the minute—I think because of the blood I’m losing—and I’m frustrated, so frustrated by how quickly I’ve been overtaken.

Stupid stupid stupid—

I trip as I try to hurry on the sand; I’m still an open target here. My assailant could be anyone—could be anywhere—and I’m not even sure where to look when suddenly three more bullets hit me: in my stomach, my wrist, my chest. The bullets break off my body and still manage to draw blood, but the bullet buried, buried in my back, is sending blinding flashes of pain through my veins and I gasp, my mouth frozen open and I can’t catch my breath and the torment is so intense I can’t help but wonder if this is a special gun, if these are special bullets—

oh

The small, breathless sound leaves my body as my knees hit the sand and I’m now pretty sure, fairly certain these bullets have been laced with poison, which would mean that even these, these flesh wounds would be dangero—

I fall, head spinning, backward onto the sand, too dizzy to see straight. My lips feel numb, my bones loose and my blood, my blood all sloshing together fast and weird and I start laughing, thinking I see a bird in the sky—not just one but many of them all at once flying flying flying

Suddenly I can’t breathe.

Someone has their arm around my neck; they’re dragging me backward and I’m choking, spitting up and losing lungs and I can’t feel my tongue and I’m kicking at the sand so hard I’ve lost my shoes and I think here it is, death again, so soon so soon I was too tired anyway and then