Imagine Me (Shatter Me #6) - Tahereh Mafi Page 0,40

day he was dragged in here. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was a corpse. I’ve been checking, too, every once in a while—making sure I caught that gentle rise and fall of his chest—just to be certain he was still breathing.

I think he’s in shock.

Apparently, once he realized J was gone, he tore the remaining soldiers to pieces with his bare hands.

Apparently.

I don’t buy it, of course, because the story sounds just a little to the left of what I consider credible, but then, I’ve been hearing all kinds of shit about Warner these last couple of days. He went from being only relatively consequential to becoming genuinely terrifying to assuming superhero status—in thirty-six hours. In a plot twist I never could’ve expected, people here are suddenly obsessed with him.

They think he saved our lives.

One of the volunteers checking my wound yesterday told me that she heard someone else say that they saw Warner uproot an entire tree with only one hand.

Translation: He probably broke off a tree branch.

Someone else told me that they’d heard from a friend that some girl had seen him save a cluster of children from friendly fire.

Translation: He probably shoved a bunch of kids to the ground.

Another person told me that Warner had single-handedly murdered nearly all the supreme soldiers.

Translation—

Okay, that last one is kind of true.

But I know Warner wasn’t trying to do anyone around here a favor. He doesn’t give a shit about being a hero.

He was only trying to save J’s life.

“You should talk to him,” Castle says, and I startle so badly he jumps back, freaking out for a second, too.

“Sorry, sir,” I say, trying to slow my heart rate. “I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s quite all right,” Castle says. He’s smiling, but his eyes are sad. Exhausted. “How are you doing?”

“As well as can be expected,” I say. “How’s Sam?”

“As well as can be expected,” he says. “Nouria is struggling, of course, but Sam should be able to make a full recovery. The girls say it was mostly a flesh wound. Her skull was fractured, but they’re confident they can get it nearly back to the way it was.” He sighs. “They’ll be all right, both of them. In time.”

I study him for a moment, suddenly seeing him like I’ve never seen him before:

Old.

Castle’s dreads are untied, hanging loose about his face, and something about the break from his usual style—locs tied neatly at the base of his neck—makes me notice things I’d never seen before. New gray hairs. New creases around his eyes, his forehead. It takes him a little longer to stand up straight like he used to. He seems worn out. Looking like he’s been kicked down one too many times.

Kind of like the rest of us.

“I hate that this is the thing that seems to have conquered the distance between us,” he says after a stretch of silence. “But now Nouria and I—both resistance leaders—have each suffered great losses. The whole thing has been hard for her, just as it was for me. She needs more time to recover.”

I take a sharp breath.

Even the mention of that dark time inspires an ache in my heart. I don’t allow myself to dwell for too long on the husk of a person Castle became after we lost Omega Point. If I do, the feelings overwhelm me so completely I pivot straight to anger. I know he was hurting. I know there was so much else going on. I know it was hard for everyone. But for me, losing Castle like that—however temporarily—was worse than losing everyone else. I needed him, and it felt like he’d abandoned me.

“I don’t know,” I say, clearing my throat. “It’s not really the same thing, is it? What we lost— I mean, we lost literally everything in the bombing. Not only our people and our home, but years of research. Priceless equipment. Personal treasures.” I hesitate, try to be delicate. “Nouria and Sam only lost half of their people, and their base is still standing. This loss isn’t nearly as great.”

Castle turns, surprised. “It’s not as if it’s a competition.”

“I know that,” I say. “It’s just th—”

“And I wouldn’t want my daughter to know the kind of grief we’ve experienced. You have no idea the depth of what she’s already suffered in her young life. She certainly doesn’t need to experience more pain to be deserving of your compassion.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I say quickly, shaking my