After You Died by Dea Poirier

After You Died by Dea Poirier

Author:Dea Poirier [Poirier, Dea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Polis Books
Published: 2021-03-20T16:00:00+00:00


After

I’m still reeling from seeing the crazy house, so I follow Sayid aimlessly. Sayid works his way behind the hospital, toward the tree line behind the building. I’ve never been into this stretch of woods. I trust Sayid completely, but venturing into the unknown in the black of night still makes me anxious. A few feet into the woods, and the Spanish moss has eclipsed the moonlight completely.

“Where are we going?” I ask after we’re so far in that I can’t see the lights of the school behind us.

“There’s a drop point up here for my shipments. I’m going to need your help carrying them back,” he says, and smoke trails from his words. “Once or twice a week, depending on how fast product is moving, one of the guards brings in items from a list I give him. He drops them off in an old shed in the woods.”

“How do you pay for them?” I ask. While I know they have some kind of arrangement, there has to be some money changing hands. Otherwise I don’t see why the guard would keep it up.

“It depends. Any actual money I get, from kids like Becks, the guard gets half. Everything else, well...”

I hold up my hand, “You don’t need to give me any more detail.” Though I have an idea what goes on, I don’t want details. If he doesn’t tell me what happens, it’s easier to pretend it doesn’t.

Helping Sayid with his black-market business is the least I can do for all the stuff he gives me for free. I’ve offered to take his shifts in the laundry a thousand times, but he’s always told me no. His pace slows, and I catch up to him. We walk side by side, his arm brushes against me, and goose bumps rise on my arms.

I look at him at him as the silence brews between us. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but I want to talk to him about something, anything.

“Is it true that Gord asked the judge to be sent here?” The question tumbles out of me. It’s a rumor I heard weeks ago, one that’s probably not remotely true. But it’s the best conversation starter I have.

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye with a tight-lipped smirk. Before he says anything, he offers me a cigarette, and I take it. “That’s true,” he finally says.

“Why would anyone want to come here?” I ask. It seems crazy that anyone would choose to come to Dozier, that anyone would ask for this.

“This place had things that he didn’t have at home. Food for one.”

Guilt pools inside me. I shouldn’t have brought it up.

“He made the best choice he could based on the options he had. He went before the judge, and he asked to be sent here. No judge is going to argue that. You want to go to Dozier, you get a one way ticket. For him, this is better than any life he could have on the outside.



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