Hate looks like everybody else until it smiles. Until it spins around and lies with lips and teeth carved into semblance of something too passive to punch."

There will be a bird today. It will be white with streaks of gold like a crown atop its head. It will fly. There will be a bird today. It will be white with streaks of gold like a crown atop its head. It will fly. There will be a—I have nothing but a small notebook and a broken pen and the numbers in my head to keep me company. 1 window. 4 walls. 144 square feet of space. 26 letters in an alphabet I haven’t spoken in 264 days of isolation. You can’t touch me, I whisper. I’m lying, is what I don’t tell him. He can touch me, is what I’ll never tell him. Please touch me, is what I want to tell him. I press my lips together and stare out the small square of glass they call a window. There aren’t many animals left, but I’ve heard stories of birds that fly. Maybe one day I’ll get to see one. The stories are so wildly woven these days there’s very little to believe, but I’ve heard more than one person say they’ve actually seen a flying bird within the past few years. So I watch the window. Now I’m not so sure. Now I’m worried. Now my mind is a traitor because my thoughts crawl out of bed every morning with darting eyes and sweating palms and nervous giggles that sit in my chest, build in my chest, threaten to burst through my chest, and the pressure is tightening and tightening and tightening

His eyes scan my silhouette and the slow motion makes my heart race. I catch the rose petals as they fall from my cheeks, as they float around my body, as they cover me in something that feels like the absence of courage. You're probably assuming - correctly - that I went into this book with low expectations. This is completely true. Any so-called "dystopia" with a runway model on the front cover leaves me feeling sceptical. However, I was also prepared to allow myself to be surprised; a lot of my friends loved this and one of the biggest criticisms didn't actually bother me - purple prose. I think there's a fine line in writing between the pretty and the purplish and different readers will define it in their own way. For example, some reviewers thought that Lips Touch: Three Times was just a mess of bloated purple prose, whereas I thought it was one of the most beautiful books I read last year. I have a high tolerance level for flowery writing. But... I waste no time climbing onto the barely concealed springs of my mattress and I’m so exhausted I can hardly feel the metal coils threatening to puncture my skin. I haven’t slept in more than 24 hours. Adam is a nice name is the only thing I can think of before exhaustion cripples my body. Four I’m tired and weak from hunger, but other than a few general aches, I seem to be fine. I’m alive. I’m breathing and blinking and feeling human and I know exactly why.In case y'all didn't know, not only was this book optioned by Warner Bros as a movie, it has now been optioned as a TV SHOW BY ABC STUDIOS -with Tahereh as a producer. Ah, Ms. Ferrars. I don’t know what you hope to accomplish by sitting in the corner.” Castle’s easy grin dances into the room before he does. The only reason I gave this book 4 and not 5 stars is because I really dislike Adam and Juliette as a couple. My eyes are focused on the window and the promise of what could be. The promise of something grander, something greater, some reason for the madness building in my bones, some explanation for my inability to do anything without ruining everything. There will be a bird. It will be white with streaks of gold like a crown atop its head. It will fly. There will be a bird. It will be—

Shit!He practically flings the tray through the opening, pausing only to slap his palm against his shirt. "Shit, shit." He curls his fingers into a tight fist and clenches his jaw. He’s burned his hand. I would’ve warned him if he would’ve listened. I try to move and Warner catches me. I’m off-balance, unsteady; I still feel as though my legs are anchored to this bed and I’m suddenly unable to breathe, seeing spots and feeling faint. Need up. Need out. But sir,” he says, eyes trained on my arm, “you’ll need assistance—there’s a process—you’ll require a convalescent aide—” My skin is cold and clammy; I’m making a herculean effort to breathe. Torture is roaring through my right arm and making it difficult for me to focus. I have to squeeze my eyes shut, grit my teeth, and force myself to pay attention. Shatter Me Is A Young Adult Dystopian Hexalogy Written By Tahereh Mafi. The Series Centers On Juliette Ferrars, A 17-year-old Girl With A Lethal Touch. The First Book Of The Series Was Published On November 15, 2011. An E-novella, Destroy Me, Told From Warner’s Point Of View, Was Released On October 6, 2012. The Second Book In The Series, Unravel Me, Was Published On February 5, 2013. After The Publication Of The Second Book, Another E-novella, Fracture Me, From Adam Kent’s Point Of View, Was Published On December 17, 2013.Wait, what? He reaches for my arm but I pull away. But there’s no light—we can’t even see where we’re going— Besides Juliette's constant whining and lameness and the cringeworthy romances, this story was just a sadder and lamer version of X-Men. It had too many X-Men vibes going on. What’s your name? he says. I can feel him breathing much closer than he was before. My heart is racing and I don’t know why but I can’t control it. Why won’t you tell me your name? Oh, so you’re talking to me today?” He’s angry. His eyes flash before he looks away and I realize he’s more embarrassed than anything else. He’s a tough guy. Too tough to make stupid mistakes in front of a girl. Too tough to show pain.