Download After Eden (After Eden, Book 1) by Helen Douglas PDF

By Helen Douglas

While mysterious new boy Ryan Westland indicates up at her tuition Eden Anfield is intrigued. at the face of it, he's a regular American teen. So how come he doesn't realize pizza and hasn't heard of Hitler? What puzzles Eden such a lot, besides the fact that, is the curiosity he's taking in her.

As Eden falls in love with Ryan, she stumbles throughout a e-book in Ryan's bed room - a biography of her ally - written fifty years sooner or later. Unravelling Ryan's mystery, she discovers he has one unbelievably very important function ... and he or she may perhaps simply have destroyed his in basic terms likelihood of good fortune.

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Additional info for After Eden (After Eden, Book 1)

Sample text

26 Jaspe r Jones I shake my head. Incredulous. I try desperately to conceive of alternatives, ways of escape. ‘Well, no. We can’t. We can’t bury her, here and now. Okay? I don’t know. We don’t have any shovels. Or anything. Either way, it’ll take hours. The sun will be up before we’re finished. ’ ‘Not in the ground, Charlie. ’ And Jasper Jones motions towards the dam, its surface still as a sheet. My stomach knots. We are going to drown the dead. ’ I’m caught in a rip, being dragged out further and deeper against my will.

It’s almost dawn! We have to go back. Now! ’ Jasper Jones squints and slowly glances up. ’ He seems to ponder it. ‘Yeah, you’re right. Okay, Charlie. ’ His words are slurred. Now I really fear getting lost on our return. But not nearly as much as I fear my parents finding my bed empty. I can’t even imagine. ’ 48 Jaspe r Jones Jasper stands unsteadily and treads heavily. He slaps a hand on my shoulder. Looks at me, intent yet vacant. Full of sorrow. His breath is like acid. ‘Orright. ’ He pauses.

I’m lost. I can’t look to my left. I’ve blocked 23 C r aig Silv e y Laura’s body from my sight and my mind, but she keeps pressing, keeps insisting. She’s so close. It is too much to think about. Too much for one sitting. It’s too fast. Too, too fast. We seem to be wilfully ignoring Laura Wishart. Hanged. Hanging. Just metres away. If we don’t look, if we talk around her, she’ll dissolve into the night. And this won’t have happened. And I can go back home, sleep, and wake without the weight of knowing.

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