Ignite Me - Tahereh Mafi Page 0,54
I don’t think I could ever reciprocate those feelings.
I don’t even know that I understand what just happened between us.
It seems impossible that Adam and I could fissure and break apart so abruptly. I care so deeply for him. He was there for me when no one else was; he gave me hope when I needed it most; he loved me when no one else would. He’s not anyone I want to erase from my life.
I want him around. I want my friend back.
But I’m realizing now that Kenji was right.
Adam was the first and only person who’d ever shown me compassion. The first, and, at the time, only person who was able to touch me. I was caught up in the impossibility of it, so convinced fate had brought us together. His tattoo was a perfect snapshot of my dreams.
I thought it was about us. About my escape. About our happily-ever-after.
And it was.
And it wasn’t.
I want to laugh at my own blindness.
It linked us, I realize. That tattoo. It did bring me and Adam together, but not because we were destined for one another. Not because he was my flight to freedom. But because we have one major connection between the two of us. One kind of hope neither one of us was able to see.
Warner.
A white bird with streaks of gold like a crown atop its head.
A fair-skinned boy with gold hair, the leader of Sector 45.
It was always him. All along.
The link.
Warner, Adam’s brother, my captor and now comrade. He inadvertently brought me and Adam together. And being with Adam gave me a new kind of strength. I was still scared and still very broken and Adam cared for me, giving me a reason to stand up for myself when I was too weak to realize I had always been reason enough. It was affection and a desperate desire for physical connection. Two things I’d been so deprived of, and so wholly unfamiliar with. I had nothing to compare these new experiences to.
Of course I thought I was in love.
But while I don’t know much, I do know that if Adam really loved me, he wouldn’t have treated me the way he did today. He wouldn’t prefer that I was dead.
I know this, because I’ve seen proof of his opposite.
Because I was dying.
And Warner could’ve let me die. He was angry and hurt and had every reason to be bitter. I’d just ripped his heart out; I’d let him believe something would come of our relationship. I let him confess the depth of his feelings to me; I let him touch me in ways even Adam hadn’t. I didn’t ask him to stop.
Every inch of me was saying yes.
And then I took it all back. Because I was scared, and confused, and conflicted. Because of Adam.
Warner told me he loved me, and in return I insulted him and lied to him and yelled at him and pushed him away. And when he had the chance to stand back and watch me die, he didn’t.
He found a way to save my life.
With no demands. No expectations. Believing full well that I was in love with someone else, and that saving my life meant making me whole again only to give me back to another guy.
And right now, I can’t say I know what Adam would do if I were dying in front of him. I’m not sure if he would save my life. And that uncertainty alone makes me certain that something wasn’t right between us. Something wasn’t real.
Maybe we both fell in love with the illusion of something more.
THIRTY-TWO
My eyes fly open.
It’s pitch-black. Quiet. I sit up too fast.
I must’ve fallen asleep. I have no idea what time it is, but a quick glance around the room tells me Warner isn’t here.
I slip out of bed. I’m still wearing socks and I’m suddenly grateful; I have to wrap my arms around myself, shivering as the cold winter air creeps through the thin material of my T-shirt. My hair is still slightly damp from the bath.
Warner’s office door is cracked open.
There’s a sliver of light peeking through the opening, and it makes me wonder if he really forgot to close it, or if maybe he’s only just walked in. Maybe he’s not in there at all. But my curiosity beats out my conscience this time.
I want to know where he works and what his desk looks like; I want to know if he’s messy or organized or if