Destroy Me by Tahereh Mafi Read Free Book Online

implicit act of disrespect; a level of comfort even Delalieu does not allow himself. But unlike my men, the sycophants who surround my father consider themselves lucky. Being a member of the supreme commander’s elite guard is considered a privilege and an honor. They answer to no one but him.
    And right now, this soldier is trying to prove he outranks me.
    He’s jealous of me. He thinks I’m unworthy of being the son of the supreme commander of The Reestablishment. It’s practically written on his face.
    I have to stifle my impulse to laugh as I take in his cold gray eyes and the black pit that is his soul. He wears his sleeves rolled up above his elbows, his military tattoos clearly defined and on display. The concentric black bands of ink around his forearms are accented in red, green, and blue, the only sign on his person to indicate that he is a soldier highly elevated in rank. It’s a sick branding ritual I’ve always refused to be a part of.
    The soldier is still staring at me.
    I incline my head in his direction, raise my eyebrows.
    “I am required,” he says, “to wait for verbal acceptance of this invitation.”
    I take a moment to consider my choices, which are none.
    I, like the rest of the puppets in this world, am entirely subservient to my father’s will. It’s a truth I’m forced to contend with every day: that I’ve never been able to stand up to the man who has his fist clenched around my spine.
    It makes me hate myself.
    I meet the soldier’s eyes again and wonder, for a fleeting moment, if he has a name, before I realize I couldn’t possibly care less. “Consider it accepted.”
    “Yes, s—”
    “And next time, soldier, you will not step within five feet of me without first asking permission.”
    He blinks, stunned. “Sir, I—”
    “You are confused.” I cut him off. “You assume your work with the supreme commander grants you immunity from rules that govern the lives of other soldiers. Here, you are mistaken.”
    His jaw tenses.
    “Never forget,” I say, quietly now, “that if I wanted your job, I could have it. And never forget that the man you so eagerly serve is the same man who taught me how to fire a gun when I was nine years old.”
    His nostrils flare. He stares straight ahead.
    “Deliver your message, soldier. And then memorize this one: do not ever speak to me again.”
    His eyes are focused on a point directly behind me now, his shoulders rigid.
    I wait.
    His jaw is still tight. He slowly lifts his hand in salute.
    “You are dismissed,” I say.
     
    I lock my bedroom door behind me and lean against it. I need just a moment. I reach for the bottle I left on my nightstand and shake out two of the square pills; I toss them into my mouth, closing my eyes as they dissolve. The darkness behind my eyelids is a welcome relief.
    Until the memory of her face forces itself into my consciousness.
    I sit down on my bed and drop my head into my hand. I shouldn’t be thinking about her right now. I have hours of paperwork to sort through and the additional stress of my father’s presence to contend with. Dinner with him should be a spectacle. A soul-crushing spectacle.
    I squeeze my eyes shut tighter and make a weak effort to build the walls that would surely clear my mind. But this time, they don’t work. Her face keeps cropping up, her journal taunting me from its place in my pocket. And I begin to realize that some small part of me doesn’t want to wish away the thoughts of her. Some part of me enjoys the torture.
    This girl is destroying me.
    A girl who has spent the last year in an insane asylum. A girl who would try to shoot me dead for kissing her. A girl who ran off with another man just to get away from me.
    Of course this is the girl I would fall for.
    I close a hand over my mouth.
    I am losing my mind.
     
    I tug off my boots. Pull myself up onto my bed and allow my head to hit the pillows behind me.
    She slept here, I think. She slept in my bed. She woke up in my