by Dea Poirier
“Get the fuck away from my sister.”
He rounds on me, his head cocked. “The two of you deserve much worse than this.” He spits the words at me. He grabs my bound palms and drives the knife into them. Pain shoots from my hand up my arm. He squeezes my hand as he mixes our blood together. Seconds after he’s done, the wound on my hand closes.
“What are you talking about?” I ask him.
“He thinks we killed his family,” Eden says. “He hasn’t shut up about it for weeks.”
I open my mouth to question it. I’ve never met Dominic’s family, neither has Eden. There’s no way we’re responsible for killing them, or anyone else.
“Enough,” he growls. He strikes the flame, tosses it to my feet, and smiles at me. “See you on the flip side, Ash.”
Dominic looks back one last time before he disappears. The fire grows around us. I kick my chair backward into the flames. I groan as the pain floods through me. The fire burns my back, my arms. But more importantly, it burns my ropes. In a few agonizing seconds, I’m free. The flames lick Eden’s feet. But I have to get Sayid free first. He doesn’t have the gifts we do.
I free Sayid and drag him to the edge of the room, far from the flames. But as I turn to Eden, she does the same move I did and kicks her chair backward. I pick Sayid up and sling him over my shoulder, he’s heavy, but I don’t feel nearly as weighed down by him as I should.
Eden’s at my side in seconds, and we rush out the back door. My eyes sweep the sides of the house, the engine of the Buick hums from the front of the house. Directly in front of us the woods are close. I head for the trees and Eden follows. My heart hammers in my chest as fear floods through me. I have to get them both away from Dominic. I have to keep them both safe. There’s nothing I could do to save Olivia, but I can save them.
We get far enough into the woods that I can no longer smell smoke, or hear the pops of the fire. I set Sayid down, he slumps against a tree. He’s still out cold, maybe that’s for the best. I turn toward my sister. There are a million questions I want to ask her, there are so many things I want to say, that I need to say. But instead I hug her. When I pull back, her face contorts, tears pool in her eyes.
“What do you remember?” she asks with her voice impossibly low.
I shake my head. “Scattered memories. But they don’t make sense. There was a girl in all of them. I thought it was you at first, now I’m not so sure. What do you remember?”
“Everything,” she says simply. Her face is tight, stricken. Her eyes drop to the ground. “Asher,” she says as her eyes meet mine again.
“Yeah?”
Eden is never like this. She’s being really weird. She sighs and presses her lips together before she says, “I’m not who you think I am.” She looks down. “You knew me before as Elizabeth. That other girl, the one you thought was me, I think that was Olivia.”
My mind is swallowed by confusion. It’s not possible. Is it? That would mean...
“I think Olivia is still alive,” she says.
Her eyes meet mine, and a shiver ricochets down my spine. My eyes move over the trees. If she’s not dead, that might mean I’m not so crazy after all. If Olivia is out there, if she’s still alive, where is she?
Read other books by Dea Poirier
Thank you to the incredible editor who helped me with this book, Chantelle Aimée Osman. And thank you to the rest of the Polis/Agora team for helping me bring this book into the world. I appreciate your support, guidance, and all of your hard work.
Thank you to my agent, Jill Marsal.
To my incredible critique partner, Elesha, you are the best. Thank you for everything <3.
To all the people who read After You Died over the years and provided me feedback, without you this book wouldn’t be possible. Thank you for your words and your time.
To all my readers who have bought my books over the years, thank you—I hope there are at least thirty more to come!
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading After You Died. I hope that this story has touched you in some way, like the story of the Arthur G. Dozier School did for me. When I first heard about the Dozier school in 2013, I started reading the stories of the boys who’d lived there—survived the school. I’ve woven some of their stories and their history into this novel because I think it’s important that their stories are told.
In the state of Florida, the Arthur G. Dozier School for boys fought allegations of abuse, murder, and more for years. The school finally shut its doors in 2011. Yes, 2011. The school was open for over a hundred years, and there are unmarked graves still being exhumed on the property today. Many of these victims, we don’t know their names, who their families were—if someone out there is still hoping they’ll come home one day.
Many of these victims, their only crime was being unwanted. Orphans, truants, petty thieves, they were all locked away in this school and treated with the same cruelty. If you enjoyed this book, please do some research on this school and other schools like it that have been allowed to operate in this country. Please believe the survivors and honor those that did not survive.
Dea Poirier
