This is from the first chapter of SHATTERED, the novel that may or may not be book 2 with Razorbill:
Nothing can protect me now. No one can protect me now. I pushed them all away. I lost everything. I gave it to him, and he gave me this.
I think my wrist might be broken. Every time I move it, pain tears up my arm and steals my breath away. I try to shift my weight, leaning more on my leg that doesn’t feel bruised and sore, but the glass scattered around me crunches under my weight, and I stop.
It’s shattered. The whole beautiful sculpture. It’s in a thousand pieces around me, littering the floor, each tiny piece symbolizing another hour I spent searching out the sea glass, painstakingly assembling it with all of its mates.
And now it is nothing. Just like me.
I reach up towards the bed and pull the ratty patchwork quilt off the mattress and cover myself completely, until I can’t see the lightning striking outside the window anymore. The room is still buzzing with the sounds of the pouring rain, but I welcome it. It fills the room and drives away the silence.
Lightning strikes, and the flash glints off a piece of tumbled glass poking into my cocoon, and I kick it swiftly away. I can’t ignore the pierce of pain as I watch it disappear. He knew how much that sculpture meant. He knew the nights I stayed up late putting it together.
And he threw it in an explosion of rage.