After You Died

by Dea Poirier

  He walks over, but I don’t budge. The shame welling up inside me has glued me to the floor. He stops when he gets to the nook, and turns slowly to look at me.

  “Asher, there isn’t a guard here. There isn’t anyone here,” he says, his brows fall, and he looks at me like he’s concerned about me. Like, just maybe, he thinks I’m crazy. “Are you sure that’s what you saw?”Maybe I am crazy.

  I run over, weaving between the hay bales as I close the distance between us. Where the guard had been, straw is scattered. But there isn’t so much as a drop of blood remaining. I sweep the straw out of the way. Nothing.

  Did I imagine the dead guard? What else have I imagined? My thoughts are a jumbled mess.

  “We need to go back down, I’ve got an idea to deal with him.” He dusts the straw off his jeans and heads back down the ladder.

  For a moment, he looks like he’s going to walk toward one of the horses, then he thinks better of it. Slow steps lead him back way from Ginger. He offers me a cig, but my hands are shaking too badly to smoke it, so I wave it away. I cross my arms, and hold my elbows.

  He looks toward the horse behind him, Ginger. “Are you, um, friendly with any of these things?” The way he cowers away from her, you’d think she was a seven-foot-tall spider.

  I’m friendly with all of them. They’re horses, not barracudas. I try not to roll my eyes at him. I walk over to her, and rub her snout. The warmth of her body seeps into my hand, calming me. She nuzzles me.

  “Great,” he says. But the way he says it, his voice falters. I’m not sure if it’s fear, or disgust. “We’re going to need her to carry the body into the woods so we can hide it. It hasn’t been dark long, so we should have plenty of time.”

  “Are you up for it?” I ask Ginger. She can’t agree, but she’s always thrilled to get out of her stall. I grab a bridle and slide it over her head, open the lock, and lead her out. Once she’s out, she stomps twice and snorts. Her ears perk up immediately, and her brown eyes search the night. The way she twitches, and nudges me, I can tell she’s excited. I tie her lead to one of the support posts.

  The way my body aches, I’m not sure I’ll be able to lift the body. Sayid steps toward it first. I follow, he grabs the feet, and I grab the wrists. The skin of the corpse is cool, it sends a chill up my spine. Even though I doubt I’m responsible for his death, it weighs on me. I don’t even know his name. He might have a family, he might have his own Eden waiting on him. I shake my head, and try to snap myself out of it. There isn’t a single reason I should feel guilty this sack of shit is dead.

  This guy wasn’t worth a shit. There’s nothing to feel bad about.

  It’s much harder to lift and maneuver a corpse than I expect. Several times the body slips from our grip and slaps to the floor with a hollow thud. Finally I decide to I hold the corpse under the arms, only then are we able to sling the body over Ginger’s back. She gives me a look, guilt makes me think for a moment she might be judging me. I shouldn’t be making her do this. It’s bad enough Sayid is helping me hide a body. Cigarettes are one thing, but this is in a whole other universe of favors.

  Sayid is too scared of Ginger to take the lead, so I do. She follows me through the stables, and around back. It’s only twenty feet to the tree line. Under the cover of night, and the trees, I feel a bit better.

  “I owe you,” I say to Sayid.

  “Yes, yes you do.” He sneers at Ginger, and falls back a few steps.

  Lingering behind, Sayid kicks the roots that protrude from the ground as we pass them. Ginger and I avoid them entirely. I’m not sure if Sayid is doing it on purpose, or if he’s just clumsy. Every time he hits one, my jaw clenches, and my nerves flare.

  “Just up here, we should be good to drop him,” he says.

  I look up ahead, and see a small clearing. That must be where he wants to stop. The moon pours into the clearing, somehow it’s the only spot in Florida the Spanish moss hasn’t managed to invade. It’s all but abandoned, there isn’t so much as a lingering footprint in the dirt here. Ginger walks into the clearing, I pull on her lead to stop her. Sayid walks toward the body, then thinks better of getting closer.

  I tug on the shirt of the corpse. He falls head-first onto the ground. A wet pop echoes through the trees, the sound sickens me, bile creeps up my throat. I shudder. Ginger shakes her head from side to side, I guess she’s happy to be free of the weight. I lean against her, my arm slung over her neck. In the woods, beyond what I can see, I hear the branches snap as someone stomps through them.

  I can tell from the panic in Sayid’s eyes, he heard it too. I hold Ginger still, not wanting her to make a noise that might draw attention to us. For all I know a guard is patrolling the woods, searching. The footsteps grow closer, louder. Sayid ventures closer to me.

  “We’re going to have to ride her, get out of here and away from whoever is out there,” I whisper to Sayid. My hand rests on her neck. Her ears are perked up, watching the trees.

  “I’m not getting on that thing,” he says looking at Ginger with disgust.

  “Have you ever had a dog?” I ask him, my voice as low as I can manage.

  His eyes squint, brows furrow. “No, why?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

  “Well, do you like dogs?” I ask, trying to find some comparison that might get him to understand.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Horses are no worse than dogs. If you ask me, they’re better.” My whispers are hushed, barely audible. Dark hands made entirely out of tension claw at me. Whoever it is out there, they’re almost to the clearing. They can’t be more than ten feet away.

  “A horse can kill you,” he argues.

  “A dog can kill you just as easily,” I snap back.

  I pull myself up on Ginger’s back. Thankfully, I have years of experience riding bareback. Going without a saddle will be nothing new for me. As sore as I already am, chances are I won’t even feel it tomorrow. I hold my hand out, and wait for Sayid to take it.

  The footsteps are so close now, they threaten to breach the clearing. Sayid looks toward the sound, and takes my hand. I pull him up. Just as I pat Ginger on the neck, and nudge her side with my foot, I see the gleam of a knife cut through the trees.

  Ginger rides through the forest like an expert. She works around trees, avoiding roots and stumps. I close my eyes, lost, letting the wind hit my face. I can hear someone chasing us. But with Ginger’s speed, there’s no way they’ll keep up. When we reach the stables, we both hop off her back, and I open the stall for her. She wants to argue, she wants to be free, out for a ride. Still though, she does as she’s bid.

  Sayid and I run through the orange trees back to Madison. On the back porch, Sayid grabs my arm. Where he touches me, my skin tingles in response. I turn to look at him, and where I expect a smile, instead his brows are creased, his mouth a thin line.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He pulls away and lights a cigarette. He paces the porch, glancing at me every few steps.

  My guts knot, and my mouth goes dry. “Come on, spill. What’s wrong?”

  “What isn’t wrong? That was really close, and really stupid. We shouldn’t have done that.”

  I nod. “I’m sorry. You didn’t have to help. I don’t want you to end up in the white house because of me.”

  “I can’t get in that kind of trouble. Contraband, that’s one thing. I wouldn’t spend months in the white house for that. Hell, I might even get off with a warning from the right guard.” He shakes his head and takes a drag. “But killing another inmate, even someone like that, it’s too risky. I can’t be a part of that.”

  I look down at my feet, confusion prickles at the back of my mind. “What are you saying?”

  He looks away, toward the trees.

  My nose tingles, and emotion floods into me. The frustration and sadness nearly knock me over. The look on his face says it all. The silence builds between us. I swallow hard as I say a silent prayer that his words don’t mirror my though
ts.

  “I can’t do this,” he says as he points between us.

  I sink beneath the weight of his words. All the life rushes out of me at once. Tears sting my eyes. Sayid turns, I reach for him, but he pulls his arm away and disappears into Madison. I walk toward the office, my arms crossed over my chest. Eden. I need to talk to her. The further I walk, the more I pick up my pace until I’m nearly jogging. Light pours from the windows, pooling on the dark ground. Inside, a guard stalks from one side of the office to the other. I duck out of view, my heart pounding. If I’m seen out at night, I’ll get dragged to the white house.

  After

  “Asher, come on, let’s go.” Olivia calls.

  She’s way ahead of me, already up the stairs in the mansion. The wood bows under my feet, it creaks and groans under my weight. It feels so brittle, I’m sure it’s rotted through. I creep carefully, testing my weight on the battered steps before I climb. Clinging to the banister, afraid I’m going to fall through this ancient house. Beneath my feet squeaks, moans and a snap echo.

  Every step sends a fresh wave of fear through me. I hold my breath when my weight shifts onto the step, like the air in my lungs will make me too heavy. The second I reach the landing, I let it all out at once.

  The halls are littered with plaster, torn wallpaper and shredded newspapers. Old brittle leaves cling to the walls, decaying. The house is so old, and in such a bad state, I swear I can hear the termites chewing away in the walls. Each step atop the piles of debris cracks and crunches. Olivia managed to pad through as silent as a cat, not even a whisper of a sound when she walked. At the end of the hall, I see her standing in front of a broken window. Moonlight streams in what’s left of the gauzy curtains, there’s a glow behind her, like a spotlight.

  Her blonde curls twist and twirl on a gentle breeze that I can’t feel. Even the shards of glass clinging to the window frame seem to glitter and glow. I hear something rustle downstairs, probably a raccoon desperate for food.

  “Olivia, come on, it’s not safe up here,” I say from the door frame, my hand clings to it, like it will save me from anything in this decaying heap.

  She doesn’t speak, she holds her arm out behind her, milky fingers extended, searching for mine. I take a step inside the room, the breeze inside is frigid, colder than the air should be in Florida. Wood bows beneath my feet, I step to the side hoping to find a safer place to stand.

  Beneath my shoes, the floor starts to give way. There’s a thunderous crash, and I dive forward trying to avoid falling through. Dust clouds the room. I hit something as I fall. A burst of splinters and dirt flies in my face, burning my eyes, drying out my mouth. I sputter out a cough, spitting mouthfuls of dirt to the floor. There’s a rush, and something warm. Rain.

  Droplets stream down my face, I rub my eyes trying to see through the blur. Once the haze fades and I look down, my hands are smeared with red.

  Blood? Am I bleeding?

  I look up to the window and that’s when I see what I hit. Olivia’s stuck, shards of glass from the window piercing through her neck and abdomen. Her eyes are wide, pleading as she searches my face.

  “Oh God,” is all I can manage to say, the blood pours from her body. My voice cracks.

  I pull myself from the floor, as soon as I reach her side, her cold fingers search for my hand. I survey her body, trying to figure out a way to lift her off the glass, there has to be a way to save her before it’s too late. If I drive for help it will be at least an hour before I’m back—she’ll be dead by then.

  “Just hold on, I’ll get you out of this.” Tears sting my eyes. I know it’s a promise I can’t keep.

  She shakes her head at me. Somehow, even now, she manages to smile.

  Wood groans and snaps. Creaks and pops surround me. The rest of the room is about to collapse, maybe even the whole house. But I don’t care. I’m going to stay with her. Panic wells in her eyes, she mouths, “Go”.

  I shake my head. “I’m not leaving you.” The tears pour down my face. She’s barely hanging on. Her lips are no longer fleshy pink, they’re blue. She struggles to breathe, gurgled haggard breaths shake her body.

  “I love you, Olivia.” I lean over to give her one last kiss, as I pull away she flashes me one last smile. The sweetest one she can manage as she slips away.

  There’s a groan far off in the house, and outside I hear laughing. In the darkness, beneath the full moon, Dominic is watching us. Laughing.

  I WAKE UP panting. A cold sweat slicks my body, emotion wraps its cold fingers around my throat. Sayid is still asleep. In the corner of my eye, I see the slightest glimmer of white fabric disappear down the hall. Tears burn my eyes. I have to get out of this room, out of this house, sorrow tightens throat, begging to get out. The weight of my grief caught in this room suffocates me.

  I creep down the stairs and follow the white dress as it disappears around the darkest corner. The smell of sweat is heavy in the air. There’s a groaning, rocking sound coming from the recreation room. I walk to the back and follow Olivia to see where the sound is coming from.

  In the darkness, I can make out two figures. A guard and a student. Though I say nothing, I don’t even breathe, they see me. There’s a rush as they try to cover themselves and pull their pants back on.

  I’m not interested in them. I just want to see her. Before they even zip up, I’m on the front porch. The door opens behind me, and before I turn, I say, “I didn’t see anything.”

  A large hand grasps by bicep as I try to get away. I pull and twist. But it’s no use. The guard overpowers me. Behind him, someone runs up the stairs.

  “Stop, now,” the guard demands.

  “I said I didn’t see anything,” I repeat.

  “That’s convenient, but we have to be sure.” He twists me around and holds me by both arms, a sinister smirk across his wide face. Buzzed blond hair pokes out from his skull, shiny with sweat. A large brow swoops over his dark eyes. His face, his whole body is so square, it almost doesn’t seem possible. He drags me across the yard, and I know where we’re going.

  The closer we get to the white house, the more I kick and dig my heels into the wet earth. As we grow near, my heart threatens to beat straight through my chest. An invisible hand tightens around my throat, and each breath is harder to take than the last. When I trip him up, he grabs me around the waist, and drags me. Rocks cut into my flesh, and I claw at the ground, trying to stop him. We’re still a hundred yards or so away but I can hear the muffled screams, the churn of an old fan, the moans. Fifty feet away, there’s a sour smell in the air, but I can’t place it. I stop struggling, and go limp. Outside the white house there’s a stack of what looks like bodies wrapped in white sheets. The moon light shines bright enough that I can see the blood seeps through in spots.

  The guard trips and drops me. I freeze, he picks himself up and sits on the small of my back. Cold metal presses into the back of my head, he grabs a fist-full of my hair and yanks my head back. The gun is sharp against my skull. I hear a click, and my whole body goes tense.

  He’s going to shoot me. Maybe that would be better than dying slowly in the white house.

  “You are going to fucking walk in there or I’m going to knock your fucking teeth out. Then I’ll fuck the hole where they used to be. Do you understand?” As he asks, the gun in his hand shakes, and the rage seethes through every word. The way he drags out each and every word, you’d think he wasn’t sure I could even speak English.

  I try to nod, but I can’t. He’s still holding my head back.

  “Yes, yessir.” I manage to say, but I can’t keep my voice even. My whole body shakes, panicked tears pour from my eyes. My body doesn’t want to move.

  He pulls me up by the back of my shirt. I stand, my legs barely able to hold me. Fear quakes through my body. It’s nearly eighty degrees, but goose bumps rise on my flesh, my teeth chatter. The scuff of his feet behind me reminds me to walk.

  The stench inside nearly knocks me over. Shit
, vomit, and ammonia swirl together. I dry heave. I stumble forward, my foot slips on the grimy concrete. Behind me, he holds a flashlight. The stream moves to the left side of the room. What looks like twenty naked boys are huddled on the floor. They’re stained with blood and bruises. Frightened eyes call out to me in the dark. My insides may as well be lead. I can’t help you, I can’t even help myself.

  I’m forced to a back room. The guard shackles me face-first to a wall. He walks away for a moment. When he returns I hear the clink of metal. Something dangles in his hand, the gleam of steel catches my eye. He takes a deep breath and winds up. I hold my breath, my whole body tenses. The steel bites into my flesh, opening it. Pain surges through me. Blood pours from the wound. He lashes again, and again. With each impact, white spots explode behind my eyes, my teeth grind together. Tears pour from my clenched eyes. As he beats me, my mind is far away, and I slip into the darkness.

  WHEN I WAKE, the muscles in my arms burn. They’ve been chained up for so long I can’t feel my fingers anymore. I stand. There are shuffles and coughs behind me, but I can’t see the boys. Though I don’t think any guards are present, no one speaks. No one dares speak. The fan churns. Guttural moans cut across the low hum of the fan.

  I want to know how long they’ve all been locked in here. How often they’re beaten. If once you’re in here you stay until you die. It isn’t until the sun fades from the sky that I hear footsteps again. He beats me again, and again. Metal digs into my skin, blood pours from my body. For what feels like days, he returns to take out his frustrations on my flesh, each time he beats me until I lose consciousness. Though I try to count the days, the hours I’m in the white house, I find myself weak and disoriented. The only states here are pain and darkness. One blurs into the other, one becomes the other. A cycle that seems it will never end.

  Please just kill me.

  A BEEPING FAR off lulls me. I’m stuck somewhere, not awake, but no longer asleep. The rhythm pulls me slowly from the darkness. A needle sticks out from my arm, tubes snake up to bags that hang beside me. I sit up as much as I’m able with the things I’m hooked up to.