Page 1 of All Ghosts Aren’t Dead (The Forgotten #1)

BAILEY

I wasn’t allowed to cry— men don’t cry —but my nose burned anyway. Tears bubbled up in my eyes before spilling down my cheeks and dribbling over the curve of his knuckles.

His nails were sharp against my skin, the tips of his fingers hard against my jawline as he forced his palm over my mouth. A cursed word ripped from his lips when I sank my teeth into his fingers, but he didn’t let me go.

He didn’t even flinch.

The arm anchored around my waist tightened, and I felt his cheek on mine. His breath was warm against my tears, and all his bones seemed to melt when he whispered, “Please.”

I shook my head.

“Yes.” His throat rumbled, and a choked sound left his mouth. It was the same ugly, desperate noise he made during punishments.

I hated it.

I hated when they hurt him.

“Bailey.”

The breath punched out of my lungs when he spun me, and he clamped both hands on my cheeks, pulling my face up toward his.

Lips flattening, shadows cut across his cheeks right before he let out another pained growl. “They’re going to take me away now.”

No.

No.

No.

My chest burned, and I slammed my eyes shut. Beneath my rib cage, my heart started to shrivel.

I deserved it—the pain. Satan put Hell in my blood, and God was only trying to help me.

It happened all the time… God squeezed and squeezed and squeezed my heart until the evil ran away.

“Bailey!” He wrapped his hand around my jaw and squeezed so hard my eyes popped open.

It didn’t hurt. No. Jonah never hurt me.

“Do you trust me?”

I nodded.

Of course I did.

Jonah was the smartest person I knew. He could read… and write. He used words I didn’t understand.

The Prophet said Satan infected souls in all sorts of ways, but it never made any sense… how Jonah and I could both have evil in our blood.

“Then fight,” Jonah begged. “You get the hell out of here. Do not end up like me, okay? Do you remember what to do if they try to take you?”

I nodded.

Kill them.

Kill them all.