Unravel Me (Shatter Me, #2)(7)

I don’t miss the mechanical way Adam is delivering this information. Something isn’t right and I can’t believe I didn’t notice the signs until just now. I haven’t wanted to, I realize. I haven’t wanted to admit to myself that Adam looks more exhausted, more strained, more tightly wound than I’ve ever seen him. Anxiety has built a home on his shoulders.

“Adam—”

“Don’t worry about me.” His words aren’t harsh, but there’s an undercurrent of urgency in his tone I can’t ignore, and he pulls me into his arms before I find a chance to speak. His fingers work to zip up my suit. “I’m fine,” he says. “Really. I just want to know you’re okay. If you’re all right here, then I am too. Everything is fine.” His breath catches. “Okay? Everything is going to be fine.” The shaky smile on his face is making my pulse forget it has a job to do.

“Okay.” It takes me a moment to find my voice. “Okay sure but—”

The door opens and Sonya and Sara are halfway into the room before they freeze, eyes fixed on our bodies wound together.

“Oh!” Sara says.

“Um.” Sonya looks down.

Adam swears under his breath.

“We can come back later—,” the twins say together.

They’re headed out the door when I stop them. I won’t kick them out of their own room.

I ask them not to leave.

They ask me if I’m sure.

I take one look at Adam’s face and know I’m going to regret forfeiting even a minute of our time together, but I also know I can’t take advantage of my roommates. This is their personal space, and it’s almost time for lights-out. They can’t be wandering the corridors.

Adam isn’t looking at me anymore, but he’s not letting go, either. I lean forward and leave a light kiss on his heart. He finally meets my eyes. Offers me a small, pained smile.

“I love you,” I tell him, quietly, so only he can hear me.

He exhales a short, uneven breath. Whispers, “You have no idea,” and pulls himself away. Pivots on one heel. Heads out the door.

My heart is beating in my throat.

The girls are staring at me. Concerned.

Sonya is about to speak, but then

a switch

a click

a flicker

and the lights are out.





FOUR


The dreams are back.

They’d left me for a while, shortly after I’d been freshly imprisoned on base with Warner. I thought I’d lost the bird, the white bird, the bird with streaks of gold like a crown atop its head. It used to meet me in my dreams, flying strong and smooth, sailing over the world like it knew better, like it had secrets we’d never suspect, like it was leading me somewhere safe. It was my one piece of hope in the bitter darkness of the asylum, just until I met its twin tattooed on Adam’s chest.

It was like it flew right out of my dreams only to rest atop his heart. I thought it was a signal, a message telling me I was finally safe. That I’d flown away and finally found peace, sanctuary.

I didn’t expect to see the bird again.

But now it’s back and looks exactly the same. It’s the same white bird in the same blue sky with the same yellow crown. Only this time, it’s frozen. Flapping its wings in place like it’s been caught in an invisible cage, like it’s destined to repeat the same motion forever. The bird seems to be flying: it’s in the air; its wings work. It looks as if it’s free to soar through the skies. But it’s stuck.

Unable to fly upward.

Unable to fall.

I’ve had the same dream every night for the past week, and all 7 mornings I’ve woken up shaking, shuddering into the earthy, icy air, struggling to steady the bleating in my chest.

Struggling to understand what this means.

I crawl out of bed and slip into the same suit I wear every day; the only article of clothing I own anymore. It’s the richest shade of purple, so plum it’s almost black. It has a slight sheen, a bit of a shimmer in the light. It’s one piece from neck to wrists to ankles and it’s skintight without being tight at all.

I move like a gymnast in this outfit.

I have springy leather ankle boots that mold to the shape of my feet and render me soundless as I pad across the floor. I have black leather gloves that prevent me from touching something I’m not supposed to. Sonya and Sara lent me one of their hair ties and for the first time in years I’ve been able to pull my hair out of my face. I wear it in a high ponytail and I’ve learned to zip myself up without help from anyone. This suit makes me feel extraordinary. It makes me feel invincible.

It was a gift from Castle.

He had it custom-made for me before I arrived at Omega Point. He thought I might like to finally have an outfit that would protect me from myself and others while simultaneously offering me the option of hurting others. If I wanted to. Or needed to. The suit is made of some kind of special material that’s supposed to keep me cool in the heat and keep me warm in the cold. So far it’s been perfect.

So far so far so far

I head to breakfast by myself.

Sonya and Sara are always gone by the time I’m awake. Their work in the medical wing is never-ending—not only are they able to heal the wounded but they also spend their days trying to create antidotes and ointments. The one time we ever had a conversation, Sonya explained to me how some Energies can be depleted if we exert ourselves too much—how we can exhaust our bodies enough that they’ll just break down. The girls say that they want to be able to create medicines to use in the case of multiple injuries they can’t heal all at once. They are, after all, only 2 people. And war seems imminent.