The Lies we Steal (The Hollow Boys Book 1)
The Lies we Steal: Chapter 12

Briar

I felt sick. 

Physically, mentally, spiritually, all of the ally’s possible in the human body. 

For the past two days I’d been riddled with anxiety. 

Constantly looking over my shoulder expecting to see a police officer or worse, one of them. Food barely had taste and even worse, I could hardly keep anything down. 

Every time something hit the bottom of my stomach, I thought about the blood. I thought about the snakes and the screams, sending all I’d swallowed right back up my throat. 

My insides were burning, acid reflux and the need to tell someone. Anyone. Keeping this secret that I had no business keeping was killing me on the inside. Eating me up. 

My nights were haunted with dead bodies, death, and rotting corpses tossing and turning until the dull sun casted into the dorm room. 

Nightmares of how my heart nearly exploded out of my chest. How my feet ached from running so hard and it still wasn’t enough to keep me from his clutches. I saw his eyes in my sleep, I saw them when he was on top of me, peering into my soul. 

So dark. Evil. Fueled by so much hatred. 

It made me jolt from my bed, covered in sweat. His voice ringing in my ears, 

“Show me how scared you are.” 

The way his hands held my wrists, his fingers digging into my skin. His palm over my mouth, the way his scent assaulted me in ways that made me ache. I could still feel his rough, hard body pushed into mine. 

He felt dangerous. Like holding onto lightning. Everything about him made me feel unsafe and vulnerable. I had been at his mercy. He could have done anything he wanted to me, and I hated that. 

I hated him for that power he had over me. 

But what scared me more, more than his psycho friends, more than his murderous hands, was how even though I was afraid for my life, it excited me. 

In that moment I had felt alive. Every cell inside of me reverberated with vitality. I could have jumped off a cliff with no fear, robbed a bank. I felt superhuman with all the adrenaline that ran through me. 

My body was still holding on to the attraction I felt for him the night of the party. My mind knew how crooked it was to be pulled to a guy like him, my brain understood the consequences. The destruction he would do. 

But my body. 

My body loved the flow of electricity. The endorphins. 

Risking my life, my freedom, had been something I’d done since I was taught how to steal. It was a drug that I had quit before coming here, one I was determined not to run back to. 

And Alistair Caldwell’s hands felt like the worst kind of relapse. 

I hated him most for that. 

Thinking about him made me reach into my hoodie pocket, slipping my finger across the bulky ring that once adorned the king of my nightmares’ hand. I could feel the hollow pieces from his carved initials, tracing them over and over again. 

I stole it in case they did kill us. That way the police would know who to look for. If I was going down, I wouldn’t go down alone. 

For the past two days I’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. To see him walk inside my mathematics class, head straight towards me and suffocate me with his bare hands. Finishing the job he’d started in the woods. 

I hadn’t seen a single one of them and neither had Lyra. 

The quiet creaks and groaning of the nearly ancient library make me shiver. I quickly turn my head over my shoulder, making sure there is nothing, or no one behind me. 

Making my eyes strain to search between the rows and rows of dimly lit bookshelves almost expecting him to be lurking in the shadows. However, there was nobody of importance, just other students searching for material. 

I turn back in my seat, pulling my foot up in the chair and tucking it beneath me. My headphones in my ears as I return my gaze to the laminated newspaper articles. 

The genealogy department inside the school library was way more extensive than I’d thought. I’d read through what felt like hundreds of articles about the history of this place and the town it sits upon. 

Mostly, I’d looked for anything with the last names, Caldwell, Van Doren, Hawthorne, and Pierson. This all felt like an elaborate chess game, and I was losing terribly because I didn’t know my opponent properly. 

From what I’d read they were each a descendant from the town’s original founders. Their families had been interwoven since the 1600’s. Which meant old money and even older secrets. While there was basically nothing pertaining to them by themselves, there were a slew of reports surrounding their families. 

Silas’s father was one of the world’s most successful technology owners. He’d created a system that protected big corporations from being cyber hacked. It seemed any company that made money had invested in Hawthorn Inc. He also had two younger brothers, who were both in middle school and quite intelligent, winning awards left and right. 

Rook’s family was littered with lawyers and judges. The people in charge of balancing the scales of right and wrong. How could they have gotten it so wrong with this generation? There wasn’t much about his mom, and I wasn’t even sure she was around. 

The Piersons, without a lack of a better word, were attention whores. There wasn’t much on Thatcher, which didn’t surprise me, but his multimillion-dollar grandparents were everywhere. They’d built a real estate empire after leaving the farming business in the fifties. But the biggest scandal surrounding that family was Thatcher’s dad who was currently on death row after killing thirteen women in four years. 

Here I was, thinking my family was screwed up. I was the poster child of happiness compared to some of these people. I mean, imagine growing up the son of a serial killer, you can’t help but wonder what that does to a kid. 

You can’t help but understand how he turned out the way he is now. 

It also made me question, is it nature? Or nurture? Is there something biologically coded into Thatcher’s brain? Or did the sociopathic tendencies only surface after the world told him he was a monster? 

Even though the other families had multiple features, The Caldwells took the cake of most articles published in Ponderosa Springs. 

Pages and pages of their story. How they came from nothing and built a legacy. The original migration to the area had been for religious freedom and from that they created one of the world’s most wealthiest towns. More than that, I’d found out that Alistair had an older brother named Dorian and he seemed to love the limelight. 

All-star swimmer, valedictorian in high school and at Hollow Heights, he’d won just about every award you could think of. I almost gasped with how similar they looked. Almost like twins, even though Dorian was older. The main difference was Dorian was cheerful, a bright smile illuminating his features so his dark hair and eyes didn’t look that dark.

He was now living in Boston, a part of one of the best residency programs in the United States and would soon be a surgeon according to this newest article. 

I couldn’t help but stare at the picture on the front page of a past write-up about family ties, Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell stood proud behind Dorian each with a hand on his shoulder as he sat in a chair in front of them. All the while, Alistair was shoved to the side, no warmth, no attention, nothing was given to him. 

He was an outsider everywhere. Including around his family. 

“Hey, are you ready to go?” 

I jump, placing my hand on my heart, the quick change of speed making me want to pass out. I’d been so on edge, restless, everything made me flinch. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Lyra smiles softly, her hand still resting on my shoulder. 

I quickly gather the research I’d been diving into, organizing it into a neat pile, before nodding. 

“Yeah, let’s get back before dark.” I say. 

Normally I wouldn’t mind walking through campus at night. But normally I’m not worried about four killer assholes with a grudge against me either. 

Together, we make our way out of the library. Instantly I pull my clothing around me tighter to prevent the cool breeze from slicing through. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I think we need to. We need to figure out a plan, who we are gonna tell.” My voice interrupts the void silence of our walk. 

To anyone passing by we were just two girls chit chatting about life. 

I had wanted to tell someone immediately after reaching safety. I still wanted to tell someone. I felt now would be the perfect time. 

The only reason I hadn’t was because Lyra was adamant on how horrible of an idea it was. 

She was genuinely so terrified of them even the thought of them finding out we said anything would send her into a breakdown. 

“Not this again. I thought we agreed on not talking about it.” She groans. 

“No, no. You agreed. I never said that. It’s our responsibility to tell someone. What about that man’s family? Don’t you think they deserve to know?” 

It bothered me to think there was someone out there missing. Someone with a family missing them and we’d yet to inform anyone. 

“You don’t understand, Briar.” Lyra tells me again as we walk through the grounds towards our dorm. My thin jacket is doing a shit job keeping the chilly wind from my skin. Summer is long gone, and fall has quickly arrived. 

“I know they have money, but it doesn’t protect them from everything.” I argue for the hundredth time. “This isn’t some Tarantino flick. People don’t just get away with this kind of stuff if you tell someone.”

“They do if you have the right last name, look,” She breathes, looking around her quickly as if to make sure they aren’t there. “They are the sons of founding families. Things are different in Ponderosa Springs than where you grew up. There is a hierarchy, unspoken rules, and one of those is those boys are untouchable.” 

It all sounded so unbelievable. Were they so protected that they could really get away with murder? 

“I know all about it. Founding families. Rich bullshit. I know. We can go to authorities outside of Ponderosa Springs. We have options, Lyra. We can’t just let them get away with this. Their legacy doesn’t make them invisible to the law.”  

Her face is cold, serious, but I can still see the incline of fear in her eyes. “Yes, it does. They are above all of it. Sure, they each hate their wealth and family for the damage they’ve inflicted, but those last names shield them from everything. The fact they let us go in the first place is a gift. You don’t know because you didn’t grow up here, but they will do anything to protect each other. Lie, steal, cheat, kill. We are gum beneath their shoes. If it’s them not going to jail or us living, they will not think twice about choosing each other.”

My Converse pad against the cobblestone as we wind through the campus, other students walking past us. All of them worried about grades or parties, and we somehow drew the short straw. We were concerned about our lives and what we could have possibly done to curse God so wrongfully, that he’d thrown us in the path of The Hollow Boys. 

My clutch on Alistair’s ring tightens. 

“So what, you really want to keep it to ourselves? Act like it never happened? You think you can do that?” I ask. 

“Don’t judge me! You don’t see it but it’s what is best for both of us.” She responds sliding through the door first. 

“Lyra, we can’t—” 

“Briar! I already know what happens when you snitch on people like them. When you spill secrets about those families that are not your place to speak about.” She slings her arm out, 

“My entire life was ruined because my mother thought the same way you did. And now she’s six feet under rotting because of it.” Her voice is shaky, her bottom lip wobbling as she turns to face me in the hallway. 

My eyebrows furrow, “What are you talking about?” 

I’d assumed her mother had died from a heart attack, maybe a car accident? What did they have to do with her mom dying? 

She rakes her hand through her kinky hair, the rain making it frizz, her fingers getting caught in it as she sighs frustratingly. 

“Henry Pierson is what I’m talking about. Thatcher’s father. Butcher of the Spring. He murdered and raped women. Kept them in his basement for weeks at a time, just to prolong the torture as long as possible. He did unspeakable things to those women. And because my mother tried to be a hero, tried to be like you, she was one of those women.” 

My eyes widen, bubbling of stomach acid making me ill. 

A few weeks ago this place had been a dream. A land of opportunity. 

It had quickly turned into my greatest nightmare. 

“She saw him putting a body in his trunk while she was out for a run. Immediately, she went to the police thinking they would do something. Thinking they would protect,” Lyra scoffs, biting her bottom lip hard and looking up at the ceiling. 

“But she learned the hard way, there is no one who can protect you from someone like that. Here, there is nowhere to hide. Not from founding families.” Angry tears well up in her eyes, gathering in the corners before a few of them fall, “I was there the night he showed up. Looking to tie up loose strings.” 

I gasp my fingers covering my mouth, almost as if doing this will prevent the end of Lyra’s story. 

“He broke in and my mom, she put me in her closet. I liked to sleep with her when I was little. She tried to call for help, but it was no use, he overpowered her. I watched what he did to her, Briar. I saw what men like them are capable of. I saw death that night. I laid next to her until the cleaning lady showed up the next day. I watched her decompose and swell up. I saw all of that. I saw what happened, and I’m trying to warn you. I’m trying to save you by begging you not to say anything. It won’t end the way you think.” 

Small tears drop from her eyes, dripping down her chin and onto the floor of our dorm hallway. I didn’t even know what to say. How do you reply to something like that? 

For the past two days I’d done nothing but bug her about telling someone, anyone, needing to release this off my chest but I never realized what this might be doing to her. 

How opening my mouth to the wrong people who affect her life and mine. I’d never been in this position before, at the mercy of someone else. There was nothing I could do to protect myself or Lyra. We couldn’t call for help or reach out. We were all alone in this. 

I hold my breath, reaching forward and grabbing Lyra’s hand showing my support. This unknown swelling in my stomach. Knots of nerves and anxiety because I didn’t know what would happen next. I didn’t know what my next move would be, but we would do it together. 

Would they leave us alone? Would they finish what they started? What were they doing killing someone in the first place? What was it about their lives that were so bad, it made them turn to murder? 

These were lingering questions that I was afraid I’d never get the answers to. 

“Okay, I understand. I won’t say anything. I promise.” I whisper softly, pulling her into a tight hug. Even though I didn’t fully believe the words I said. I wouldn’t say anything, not until I was positive nothing would happen to Lyra. 

My eyes shut for a moment, thinking of how horrible it must have been for her. The nightmares she must have had, the hatred she must feel having to watch Thatcher waltz around the campus. Knowing that his father is the reason you became an orphan. There was the rage in my stomach for her. 

Her arms hugged me back, “How do you stand looking at him, Lyra? Why are you still staying here?” I question. If it was me, I feel like I would have darted away from this town as soon as possible. 

She pulls back a bit, wiping her face clean of the tears, “It’s hard to explain, but I feel close to her when I’m here. Leaving here is like leaving her, I don’t think I’m ready to do that yet.” 

I can tell there is more she wants to say, there is something she isn’t telling me, but I don’t push the envelope. I believe she has shared quite enough family history for the day. 

Silence returns as we walk to our room. Up the grand stairs to the third floor. I’d gotten sorta used to the extravagant decorations and over-the-top formalities. It was starting to become normal. Even though I’d only just started to settle in, I knew if these sleepless nights and haunted memories continued, I’d have to transfer next semester. 

I couldn’t stay here if I was constantly worried about who was watching me. Who was standing behind my back. But I also couldn’t leave Lyra alone to fend off hungry wolves alone. 

There was noise in the hall when we reached the top step, at the end of the long corridor where our room sat on the left was a crowd of neighboring girls. Their voices bouncing off the walls and ricocheting towards us. 

Utter panic begins to set in. I know it’s not a coincidence they are huddled around our dorm room, just like it wasn’t a coincidence that I’d felt someone watching me in the library before Lyra showed up. 

They were watching us. Toying with us. 

Even though neither Lyra or myself had seen them physically since the other night. They were still there. Prowling in the dark. Waiting patiently for the perfect time to strike. Ambush predators, animals that capture their prey with stealth and luring. 

They’d become pursuit creatures last night out of necessity. But I knew just as well as they did, men like them, they didn’t chase. They waited. Using the element of surprise to their advantage so that they strike when you least expect it, and the fear is freshly lit in the embers of your eyes. 

That’s what makes the hunt fun for them. 

I don’t let my fears deter me from finding out what exactly it was that had grabbed everyone’s attention. What had been so interesting it caused everyone to leak out of their own spaces and into the hallway after a long day of classes.

“Excuse me,” I mumble, parting through bodies. Navigating my way through them with Lyra on my heels. Her steps less anxious than mine as if she already knew what was waiting. 

“What is that?!”

“Fucking weirdos!” 

“It reeks!” 

There was one single nail piercing the skull of a skinned and sliced critter. Its medium-sized body dangles from sliver nails, a stream of dark fluid flows down the door and congealed in a blob on the floor. The smell had fermented due to the heat blaring through the halls. 

Rotting meat and savage intent seeped into my body. My skin crawled with inevitability. My palms sweating, my mouth dry and my heart striking my sternum like a drum. I pushed through, grabbing the doorknob and thrusting the door open. 

I frantically made my way to the cage on my desk, flipping the lid open and clicking my tongue. Hope disintegrates in my chest. My sweet all-white girl doesn’t come skittering out of her hideaways for a treat as she normally does. 

Desperately I toss around the swings and houses, searching the entire space of her home. A sob rips from my throat as I pick up the metal cage throwing it furiously to the ground. The pieces shattered on the floor. 

I’d never felt such fury in my life. No one had ever done something like this to me before, came into my space, and stolen from me. I’d always been the one doing the taking. I’d been in control of what someone could keep and what they couldn’t. 

“Briar…” Lyra whispers behind me, my shoulders rising and falling with massive breaths, water running down my cheeks. My vision is blurry with anger and pain. Her eyes sad for me, but a piece of her wants to tell me, say I told you so. I can see it. 

I turn seeing the entire floor watching me like I’m some circus act. I want to scream, to yell at them to get the hell out, and I’m about to. 

But I see the paper. The white paper that’s beneath my dead rat that’s hanging from the door. I swipe my tears with the back of my hand, stalking to the door, the girls behind it jumping back at my aggressive nature. 

I rip the note off the wall, peering down at the words scribbled in dark red, no doubt blood. There was no signature, nothing, because he knew I would identify who it was from. It wasn’t from Rook, not Thatcher, or Silas. 

No, it was from the one with the dark eyes. 

I’m coming for what’s mine, Little Thief. Until then, keep quiet.

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