The Lies we Steal (The Hollow Boys Book 1)

Briar

Self-satisfaction had run through my blood strong today. I had a different pep in my step as of today. Walking around campus knowing Alistair was busy cleaning his car of roach shit. 

Lyra was convinced this was just provoking them. Making it worse on ourselves. Maybe we were, maybe the prank was a mistake, but at the very least they knew now, we were not going to lie down for them to spit on us. 

The maze had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

Fed up with being easy prey, tired of letting them win, even if I lost the war, I won a battle. I served Alistair a spoonful of his own medicine and I hoped it tasted like rotten milk. 

I crept down the entryway to the school’s recreational hall, the glass door with a simple lock the only thing keeping me from the pool. The glow of the lights beneath the water reflected off the walls as I approached. 

With smooth fingers I pulled two bobby pins out of my hair, taking the first one and pulling it apart with my teeth making a ninety-degree angle with it. Squatting to the ground to work with the other, I stick it inside turning to the left to create tension inside the standard padlock. 

I slip the first pin over top of the other, playing with the pins inside. It’s simple math really, a standard lock has five pins and each pin needs to be pressed up in order for the lock to open. However, there are seized pins, at least three that are harder to release, so I start with those. Wiggling the bobby pin up and down, until I feel the right amount of resistance. 

When I feel it, I press up hard hearing the gratifying click. 

“One down, two to go.” I whisper, continuing the same process until all the pins are pulled and the lock gives, falling open on one side. 

I smile smugly as I pull the padlock off the door setting it to the side before sliding inside the pool room. I take in the dark sky twinkling above me, English ivy climbs up the sides of the glass panels encroaching on the top of the roof where more see- through plates make up the top of the house. 

During the day, light was shown inside every direction, it was inviting and warm. But at night, there was an edge. Looking out at the forest, wondering if anything is lingering between the trees staring back at you. If you starred too long out there, you’d find exactly what you were searching for. Your mind entertains the darkness if you’re not careful. 

I clipped my phone into a small speaker, loud enough for me to hear but quiet enough not to alarm anyone of my presence. I’d decided against clicking on the indoor lights, the ones illuminating the pool seemed to be enough. 

The bright, warm lights gave the pool a sea-foam green tint making it more inviting. 

Stripping my clothes excitedly, leaving me in my black two piece. I’d been waiting all day to slip into the cool water. Swimming made me feel weightless. Nothing really mattered except the way my body moved. My brain could shut off for a little bit and I could just float. 

I needed that. 

No more Hollow Boys. No revenge plotting. No school or math problems. 

Just to float for a bit. 

My bare feet danced across the cold floors around the outside of the pool. Slightly damp and sticking to my feet, I inhale the chlorine that lingers in the wet air. The verbena and wild roses planted around the pool almost overwhelm it, but not entirely. I loved that smell. The chlorine that is. Huffing it like paint before meets as I readied myself on the diving board, prepared to launch into the water. 

Music hung in the air, soft distorted melodies, with subversive lyrics and full of angst. The kind of songs that fueled broken hearts and brought castaways home. 

Restless, I dive headfirst into the nine-foot-deep end of the Olympic sized pool. The rush of water cocoons around me, settling on the outside of my ears and making everything above the surface trivial. 

The pressure of the water hugs me, showing me comfort I lacked from being here. My family may have been poor, my father may have stolen for a job, but I grew up loved. 

I grew up in a home where hugs were given freely and often. Where the grill was always on in the summer, the smell of charcoal wafting around the warm air. Where in the winters we’d find the largest hill in our trailer park and sled down it with plastic lids to storage containers. Where my mom read my bedtime stories and tucked me in. 

I was used to being invisible to everyone outside of my home. To feeling cold and unwanted at school, judged at the grocery store, but I knew I would walk into a two-bedroom trailer that felt like home and supported me. I had basically nothing to call my own, except family and now it felt like I didn’t even have that. 

I’d never felt more isolated. 

Yeah, I had Lyra, I had Thomas and I called my mom quite often, but it didn’t feel like enough. Walking around here is a constant chill on my spine, always lugging the chip on my shoulder ready to defend myself. 

Minus being chased by psychotic men, I assumed most college freshman felt this way. 

Trying desperately to fit in, to find a place to belong in the world all alone. Going away from your family always sounds better in your head, until you’re states away, alone, eating ramen in a hoodie that hasn’t been washed in three days. 

But it’s a process. I know this to will pass in one way or another. Either I start to get used to the torment or I let it scare me away. 

I stay under until my lungs wanted to burst, until black spots began sprinkling behind my eyelids. 

Piercing the water with a gasp for air, I pushed my hair out of my face, slicking it down my back. Chlorine stinging my eyes enough to make me wipe at them. 

With a slow pace I make my way to the shallow end, stretching my legs out on the side of the pool, pulling my arms across my chest working the muscles out. 

I wanted to get my laps in for the night, I knew it would tire me out and I could possibly get some rest tonight. Which I needed, because I had a test tomorrow and I did not want to fail my first college test.

I picked the lane in the middle, number five, the song changing as I dive back underneath the water starting with the breaststroke for my first hundred meters. 

Five-hundred-meter medley was always my heat. I think it silently killed my swim coach that I was the only one on the team who could do all four swim styles. I won meets just to see the pissed off look on her face because just like everyone else, they expected me to fail. 

And I guess that’s what all of this comes down to. 

It’s why I haven’t tucked tail and ran far away from this homicidal school with kidnapping tendencies. 

I didn’t want to give them what they wanted from me. 

Failure. 

It’s all anyone has ever seen when they look at me. When they get past the invisibility, all they see is trailer park trash destined for the gutters.  

I wanted more for myself. I wanted to prove them all wrong. I lived for the moments I did, when I could see the shock on their faces. That’s what I’m going to try to do here. 

Build a better future for myself so that when people look at me, they see a woman riddled with success and confidence. They wouldn’t be able to imagine me as anything else. 

Those boys weren’t going to take that from me. I wasn’t going to let them see me fail either. Even if they look down at me from their respective thrones, thinking their terror pranks will run me away, ruin me. 

They would not be the end of me. They are not taking my future from me. 

By the start of my backstroke my arms were burning, I was taking sharper breaths, and staying beneath the surface for less and less time. Fatigue was settling deep into my muscles. 

But I pushed through. I demanded more from my body because my mind wasn’t finished yet. I swam because the water had always been a sort of freedom for me. A breakaway from the rules of gravity and the chance to feel absolutely weightless. 

There is something about the motion of it, when you break past the burn, it starts to feel natural. The way the water swirls around me, the cool water as I move through a different medium than air. 

I became a swimmer by accident. 

I was eleven and my mom signed me up for a summer program, I spent the entire three months in the pool. And at the end of the program, there was a race, one that I had won by leaps and bounds. 

It was the first positive label I’d ever been given. 

The girl who could swim like a fish. 

So I never stopped. 

I flipped beneath the water one last time, pressing off the side of the pool with my toes and heels as hard as I could propelling myself forward under the water like a swift dagger in the wind. 

I reappear at the surface, rotating my arms in constant circles as I force my body to finish this last meter of freestyle. My arms glide in and out of the pool, my legs kicking with power as the last of my stamina begins to dwindle. 

My fingers and hand slap the top of the concrete, marking the end of my medley. I stand straight up in the shallow water, my legs wobbly, as I take a deep breath. Holding myself up against the edge, regaining my sense of vision above the water. 

With little effort I lay back, letting the water carry me. My breathing regulates as I stare up at the star covered sky through the glass windows. Drifting off into a world all my own. 

Envisioning myself as a woman with power. A business owner. A trailblazer. Someone important. Someone who can’t be overlooked. I didn’t know what I wanted to do for work after college, mostly because I didn’t think I’d be able to afford college. Now the possibilities are endless. 

I have never-ending choices with a fancy degree from Hollow Heights. 

My eyes had shut on their own. Completely absorbed by the water, the silence of the water soothing the chaos inside my head. I don’t know how long I laid there, just floating, but I could feel my fingers beginning to prune. 

When I reopen my eyes the light from the pool beneath me is no longer bouncing off the windows. Everything is black. 

In my swimmers high, I think I still have my eyes closed. Only when I stand up in the pool, my feet sinking to the bottom, rubbing my lids, do I accept the fact I’m in the dark. 

Not just dark, the pitch-black oblivion. I can’t even see my hand in front of my face, not even the light from the stars is enough to stab through the black. 

It’s ridiculous. I know the pool lights probably went out or timed out, a simple explanation. But irrational fears drive up to my spine, whispering in my ear. 

What if this university has sharks they let out in here at night? Or crocodiles? They have about everything else dangerous and creepy, why should that be so far-fetched.

I look down at the water, the inky black liquid is only a sound in my ears. I can barely make out the top of it, let alone what’s beneath me. My toes prickle wanting me to take them out of this pool. 

Blood pumps hard through me, pounding against my skin with every beat of my heart. My mouth starting to dry up, like balls of cotton had just been shoved inside my throat. 

It’s a normal human reaction. Anyone would feel this way. The feeling that something is going to reach out grab my foot, yanking me beneath the water. Never seeing the surface ever again. Whether that be a ferocious great white or a human. 

I can thankfully still touch, not sure how far away from the edge I am due to my reckless floating. I begin to toe my way forward, one arm outstretched feeling for something solid that can help me out of the pool. 

Looking behind me is out of the question, I know as soon as I see the never-ending bleakness over my shoulder it’ll only make me panic more. 

The light bulbs just burnt out, that’s all—

*Splash* 

I lick my parched lips, freezing almost immediately. 

Whatever just entered the water with me did so ungracefully. Their weight vibrated the bottom of the pool, ringing up my already weak legs. 

Giant anaconda? 

Pissed of bull shark? 

Vengeful human? 

I’m facing the direction of the sound, slowly beginning to back up, measuring my distance by where the water sits on my waist. The farther I move back, the less water that pools around my stomach, meaning I’m headed towards the shallow end. 

If it’s an animal, I’m done for. They can see me in this darkness. They can feel my slight movements. My heart racing. 

But if it’s a human. One with a vendetta, then I have a chance because they can’t see me anymore than I can see them. 

There was only one splash, meaning there was only one of them in here with me. But the other three could very well be waiting around all my exits waiting for me to make a move. 

I hear the water ripple in front of me, a few feet away maybe if my senses are good. Another ripple, then another, like it’s moving towards me just as slowly as I’m moving back. Both of us careful about contrasting reasons. 

Me, wanting to get out of this pool with minimal damage and as quietly as possible in the hopes they don’t even notice I’ve left. 

Them, not wanting to spook me so that I don’t run, so that I don’t escape. 

The water is suddenly cold. Ice cold. How I imagine Alaskan waters run in the dead of winter. Little bumps riddle my thighs, my arms, my bottom lip trembling. I’d never wanted out of the water before. Not like I did right now. 

My back lands against the side of the pool, relief flooding my soul. Lifting my arms, I press my palms into the slate ground, heaving myself up backwards ready to grab my stuff and sprint out of here. 

But I get further in my head, then in real life. 

Hands, human hands wrench onto my hips, tugging me back into the water with no sympathy. I slide right back into the pool, as if I’d never left it. My lungs fill with a mighty scream, opening my mouth to yell for help only to have it covered by their palm. 

“Quite now, Briar. Wouldn’t want anyone to know you’re breaking into places you shouldn’t be after campus curfew.” 

That voice. Those hands. This feeling. 

Loathing, vile hatred simmers in my veins. The fact he’s gotten me into the position again, that his hands have a hold on me and my body is eating it up. Frothing at the mouth, wondering what he will do next, like a naive little girl. He pins me to the wall, easily with one hand on my hip.  

I feel his rough, soaked jeans rub against my naked thighs, his soft shirt sticking to my exposed arms. Who jumps in a pool with clothes on? 

I tear my mouth away from his grip, “I think murder would take priority over breaking into a swimming pool, don’t you, Alistair?” 

I can’t see him, only the obscure outline of his shape. The brawny shoulders, the way his head tilts in amusement at my response and I know without needing to see, there is a fatal smirk setting on his lips. 

Rocks, massive rocks weigh down my chest. Every breath hurts when I’m near him. He takes all the oxygen. Leaving me with nothing but his racy scent to inhale for fuel. Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Now why would you go running your mouth about something that doesn’t involve you? I thought we were starting to become friends.” He chides, with an underlying threat, making me nauseous. Making me dizzy. 

I feel his thumb graze my revealed stomach, little shocks cascade through my belly. I ignore his questions completely. He doesn’t deserve an answer.  

“You come alone? Or did you bring your pets to help you take down little ol’ me?” 

Nerve struck because I feel his thumb dig into my skin, rugged and demanding. Making me gulp in pain. All his big red buttons, the ones I’m not supposed to mess with, surround his friends. You can attack him, but the second you turn your attention to his shit minions, he’s ready to pounce. 

I attempt to jerk out of his grip, only to be rewarded with a slam back in place. My back drilling into the side of the pool.

“Cockroaches. A bit juvenile, even for a bum like you.” 

“Clothes on in the pool. A bit insecure, even for a guy with a small dick.” 

He laughs, deep and rich like dark chocolate cake. Bitter at first, but it gradually melts on your tongue turning sugary and sticky. My favorite type of chocolate. 

My body shakes in his hands, once again my brain is at war with the rest of me. Endorphins fill me, tingling my thighs, sweeping across my core. I swallow my bile, holding my chin out, even though he can’t see it. 

The hand not on my body, begins to run along my shoulder, just his fingertips ghosting over my silhouette. Seeing me with his hands. 

“You have something that belongs to me, Little Thief.” All laughter is gone. All reminiscence of his humanity fading. 

My eyes flick to my button-down on the chair near the speaker where music still plays, knowing his ring is tucked in the front pocket of the shirt. Thankful for the first time that he can’t see me. 

“And I want it back.” He snarls, his tone nips at my skin like feral wolves baring their teeth. 

“I don’t have shit.” I buck at him, which is pointless, but I don’t want him thinking I’m backing down. My heart thumping with the blatant lie. 

His hand seizes the back of my head, gripping the hair back there with an intoxicatingly vicious hold. Pulling me down, so that my face is pointed up towards him. I can feel his mouth floating above mine, and I promise myself that if he kisses me, I’m going to bite his tongue clean off. 

“You saw what we did to that teacher, didn’t you?” The vivid images haunt me. “That’s what happens to people who take things from me, Briar. They end up dead.” 

His breath is Novocain to my senses, numbing everything. The poison in his voice oozes into my pores, infecting me. All those images rush right back, the ones that plague me at night. Of the blood, of the snakes, of him. 

The ones of him are the worst because I always wake up with sweat trickling down my lower back and damp panties. 

“I’m not scared of you.” I wince, another lie. 

“Yeah? Prove it.” I swear I feel his top lip hit mine when he pronounces the P in prove. 

Winding his hand in my hair tighter, making it a leash for him to control me with. With speed and precision, he lodges his drenched right thigh between my legs. Wedging me open and lifting me at the same time. 

I inhale a gasp, my breath hitching in my throat, my head falling back into his grip as the slight friction bolts from my center down to my toes. Lightning strikes my bones. Everything was completely void, every molecule was gone. This immense force of energy surges through me, it was only a second of touch but felt longer. 

My entire body balances on his kneecap, all the pressure directed to my core. His coarse jeans rub the delicate skin between my legs. It takes me a few moments to notice my hands resting on his t-shirt covered shoulders. 

“Are you scared yet, Little Thief?” 

I grind my teeth, trying to breathe but all I get is gulps of him. His smokey breath filling me up, up, up. I was going to explode. Tendrils of terror wrapped around my throat, choking me. 

I was scared, yes. My mind, my heart. 

But my body, my sick fucked-up body, she liked it.

She liked it too much. 

So much that I couldn’t stop her from proving my point. 

“Eat me.” I bite out. 

I feel his smug grin, right above my lips. Taunting me. Toying with me. 

I feel it in waves. The way his knee begins to move in short circles, the tension never leaving my clit. I can feel everything like he’s touching nothing but bare skin. The thin material of my bikini does zero but aid his friction. 

The intensity slowly began to build. My tongue swelling in my mouth as I bite down on it, prohibiting any moans to escape. I felt hot all of a sudden, the water that had once turned to ice was now molten lava. Every movement of his knee strokes the flames higher and I can only watch. I can only feel as the inferno grows larger. 

I am simply embers and ashes of pleasure in his hands.

God and he fucking knows it. 

He flicks his tongue across his bottom lip, catching mine in the process and I get the faintest taste of him. Do you know how scary it is to nearly taste the one drug on earth that could kill you? 

I was hanging on the swing of life or death in Alistair’s arms. Seeking pleasure from the one who seeks silence from me. 

This is just to prove a point. I remind myself. I’m just proving a point. I’m showing him that I’m not giving up and he can’t scare me. Not anymore. 

He jerks up, making a tortured moan rip from my throat. Alistair inhales sharply, absorbing my pleasure as we exchange heavy grunts and groans. 

I couldn’t deny the wetness that leaked from between my legs, maybe I could blame it on the pool, but he knew, he knew just as well as I did. My body craved this. 

“Just tell me what I want to hear. Tell me you’re afraid of me, bum.” He mutters against my lips. 

Heat surges inside my stomach at his crude insult, my cheeks burned red, or maybe they burn because I shamefully rotate my hips over his muscular thigh. It flexes and tenses beneath my weight, pushing me further and further towards the edge. 

“Rot in Hell, trust-fund bitch.” My curse is barely a threat with how breathy it comes out. Instead of the soft, supple sounds of a lover’s name crossing my lips. Its degrading term filled with so much loathing. 

Hating him for making me love this. 

My nails claw into his skin. Making sure when he leaves, he bares marks from me. So that when he looks in that golden mirror in the morning, he remembers that I have nails and sharp teeth. 

How is it possible to be this turned on right now and my feelings so opposite? The tension inside of me only worsens when the desire escalates. My legs quivering, making the water splash around us. 

My hips move on their own accord, chasing relief, chasing approval. I’d never felt like this. 

I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to feel like this again. This hot. This high. This reckless. 

There was too much adrenaline. My heart couldn’t take it. 

A valiant cry builds in my chest. I tumble, no, I’m being thrown into the deep end of a sticky, ambrosial pool of need. The coil inside my stomach compresses tighter, all because of the boy full of wicked games. 

I didn’t think he could get closer, but he does. His lips pressed into mine, but not in a kiss. 

“You don’t get to use me. Not to make your tight, pink cunt come. Not for silly games with your friend. Not for anything. I will get what is mine, Briar. Even if I have to kill you for it.” He spews, my mouth moving with his every word. 

Wait, what? 

The water around me had become waves of pleasure, about to suck me under a tide of ecstasy, until it runs cold once more. 

He lets me drop into the pool, the abrupt change has me falling into cool liquid, regaining my thoughts before shooting back up, coughing for air. For my sanity. 

When I gather myself, I look around, the lights of the pool are on once again and there is no sign of Alistair Caldwell. 

My chest heaves, my mind reels, 

Was he really here? Did I fall asleep in the pool? Did I have another dream? 

The ache between my thighs gives me my answer. The throb at the back of my skull from his grip tells me all of that was very real. 

I was scared. 

I was pissed. 

I was empty. 

How is he so angry over a ring? It’s a piece of jewelry for fuck’s sake. I despise feeling like there is more to his story than what I can see. I don’t want to know his story. I don’t care. 

He is a sadistic brat who throws more tantrums than a two-year-old. There is no excuse for how he acts. 

None. 

Another song begins to play, as if the last thirty minutes never happened. Life begins again and I’m pulled from the time warp he throws me in. 

Frustration fills me so much, that I sink to the bottom of the pool. I drop like a rock, swimming until I’m sitting at the bottom.

Then, I widen my eyes, letting the chlorine burn him from my memory, open my mouth and scream.