Shatter Me (Shatter Me, #1)(31)
I wanted to ask her why she would do that.
I wanted to ask her so many questions but I didn’t because we don’t talk to people anymore because saying something would be stranger than saying nothing to a stranger. He fell to the floor and writhed around until I’d dropped everything in my hands and every feature on my face.
I’m so sorry, is what I never said to her son.
I thought my hands were helping
I thought my heart was helping
I thought so many things
I never
never
never
never
never thought
“You killed a little boy.”
I’m nailed into my velvet chair by a million memories and I’m haunted by a horror my bare hands created and I’m reminded in every moment that I am unwanted for good reason. My hands can kill people. My hands can destroy everything.
I should not be allowed to live.
“I want,” I gasp, struggling to swallow the fist lodged in my throat, “I want you to get rid of the cameras. Get rid of them or I will die fighting you for the right.”
“Finally!” Warner stands up and clasps his hands together as if to congratulate himself. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. I’ve been waiting for the fire I know must be eating away at you every single day. You’re buried in hatred, aren’t you? Anger? Frustration? Itching to do something? To be someone?”
“No.”
“Of course you are. You’re just like me.”
“I hate you more than you will ever understand.”
“We’re going to make an excellent team.”
“We are nothing. You are nothing to me—”
“I know what you want.” He leans in, drops his voice.
“I know what your little heart has always longed for. I can give you the acceptance you seek. I can be your friend.” I freeze. Falter. Fail to speak.
“I know everything about you, love.” He grins. “I’ve wanted you for a very long time. I’ve waited forever for you to be ready. I’m not going to let you go so easily.”
“I don’t want to be a monster,” I say, perhaps more for my sake than his.
“Don’t fight what you’re born to be.” He grasps my shoulders. “Stop letting everyone else tell you what’s wrong and right. Stake a claim! You cower when you could conquer. You have so much more power than you’re aware of and quite frankly I’m”—he shakes his head—“fascinated.”
“I am not your freak,” I snap. “I will not perform for you.”
He tightens his hold around my arms and I can’t squirm away from him. He leans in dangerously close to my face and I don’t know why but I can’t breathe. “I’m not afraid of you, my dear,” he says softly. “I’m absolutely enchanted.”
“Either you get rid of the cameras or I will find and break every single one of them.” I’m a liar. I’m lying through my teeth but I’m angry and desperate and horrified. Warner wants to morph me into an animal who preys on the weak. On the innocent.
If he wants me to fight for him, he’s going to have to fight me first.
A slow smile spreads across his face. He touches gloved fingers to my cheek and tilts my head up, catching my chin in his grip when I flinch away. “You’re absolutely delicious when you’re angry.”
“Too bad my taste is poisonous for your palate.” I’m vibrating in disgust from head to toe.
“That detail makes this game so much more appealing.”
“You’re sick, you’re so sick—”
He laughs and releases my chin only to take inventory of my body parts. His eyes draw a lazy trail down the length of my frame and I feel the sudden urge to rupture his spleen. “If I get rid of your cameras, what will you do for me?” His eyes are wicked.
“Nothing.”
He shakes his head. “That won’t do. I might agree to your proposition if you agree to a condition.”
I clench my jaw. “What do you want?”
The smile is bigger than before. “That is a dangerous question.”
“What is your condition?” I clarify, impatient.
“Touch me.”
“What?” My gasp is so loud it catches in my throat only to race around the room.
“I want to know exactly what you’re capable of.” His voice is steady, his eyebrows taut, tense.
“I won’t do it again!” I explode. “You saw what you made me do to Jenkins—”
“Screw Jenkins,” he spits. “I want you to touch me— I want to feel it myself—”
“No—” I’m shaking my head so hard it makes me dizzy. “No. Never. You’re crazy—I won’t—”
“You will, actually.”
“I will NOT—”
“You will have to . . . work . . . at one point or another,” he says, making an effort to moderate his voice. “Even if you were to forgo my condition, you are here for a reason, Juliette. I convinced my father that you would be an asset to The Reestablishment. That you’d be able to restrain any rebels we—”
“You mean torture—”
“Yes.” He smiles. “Forgive me, I mean torture. You will be able to help us torture anyone we capture.” A pause. “Inflicting pain, you see, is an incredibly efficient method of getting information out of anyone. And with you?” He glances at my hands. “Well, it’s cheap. Fast. Effective.” He smiles wider. “And as long as we keep you alive, you’ll be good for at least a few decades. It’s very fortunate that you’re not battery-operated.”