Imagine Me (Shatter Me #6) - Tahereh Mafi Page 0,13
worse, and they reminded the people to be grateful for the protections provided by The Reestablishment; that, without them, the world would be a lot worse. It fairly scared the shit out of everyone. Things feel a lot quieter now. The civilians seem subdued in a way they weren’t before. It’s stunning, really, how The Reestablishment managed to convince people that the sky collapsing while the sun just disappeared for a full minute were normal things that could happen in the world.
It’s unbelievable that they feed people that kind of bullshit, and it’s unbelievable that people eat it up.
But when I’m being super honest with myself, I’ll admit that what scares me the most is that, if I didn’t know any better, I might’ve eaten that shit up, too.
I sigh, hard. Drag a hand down my face.
This morning feels like a weird dream.
Surreal, like one of those melting clock paintings The Reestablishment destroyed. And I’m so wrung out, so tired, I don’t even have the energy to be angry. I’ve only got enough energy to be sad.
We’re all just really, really sad.
The few of us who could squeeze into this room: me, Castle, Nouria, Sam, Superman (my new nickname for Stephan), Haider, Nazeera, Brendan, Winston, Warner. All of us, sad, sorry sacks. Sonya and Sara left for a bit, but they’ll be coming back soon, and when they do, they’ll be sad, too.
Ian and Lily wanted to be here, but Warner kicked them out. He just straight up told them to get out, for reasons he didn’t offer to disclose. He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t even look at Ian. Just told him to turn around and leave. Brendan was so stunned his eyes nearly fell out of his head. But all of us were too afraid of Warner to say anything.
A small, guilty part of me wondered if maybe Warner knew that Ian talked shit about him that one time, that Warner knew (who knows how) that Ian didn’t want to make the effort to go after him and J when we lost them at the symposium.
I don’t know. It’s just a theory. But it’s obvious Warner is done playing the game. He’s done with courtesy, done with patience, done with giving a single shit about anyone but J. Which means the tension in here is insane right now. Even Castle seems a little nervous around Warner, like he’s not sure about him anymore.
The problem is, we all got too comfortable.
For a couple of months we forgot that Warner was scary. He smiled like four and a half times and we decided to forget that he was basically a psychopath with a long history of ruthless murder. We thought he’d been reformed. Gone soft. We forgot that he was only tolerating any of us because of Juliette.
And now, without her—
He no longer seems to belong.
Without her, we’re fracturing. The energy in this room has palpably changed. We don’t really feel like a team anymore, and it’s scary how quickly it happened. If only Warner weren’t so determined to be a dickhead. If only he weren’t so eager to put on his old skin, to alienate everyone in this room. If only he’d muster the smallest bit of goodwill, we could turn this whole thing around.
Seems unlikely.
I’m not as terrified as the others, but I’m not stupid, either. I know his threats of violence aren’t a bluff. The only people unperturbed are the supreme kids. They look right at home with this version of him. Haider, maybe most of all. That dude always seemed on edge, like he had no idea who Warner had turned into and he didn’t know how to process the change. But now? No problem. Super comfortable with psycho Warner. Old pals.
Nouria finally breaks the silence.
Gently, she clears her throat. A couple of people lift their heads. Warner glares at the floor.
“Kenji,” she says softly, “can I talk to you for a minute? Outside?”
My body stiffens.
I look around, uncertain, like she’s got me confused with someone else. Castle and Nazeera turn sharply in my direction, surprise widening their eyes. Sam, on the other hand, is staring at her wife, struggling to hide her frustration.
“Um”—I scratch my head—“maybe we should talk in here,” I say. “As a group?”
“Outside, Kishimoto.” Nouria is on her feet, the softness gone from her voice, her face. “Now, please.”
Reluctantly, I get to my feet.
I lock eyes with Nazeera, wondering if she has an opinion on the situation, but her expression is unreadable.