The Lies we Steal (The Hollow Boys Book 1)

Briar

The school function Thomas had made me promise I’d attend was in fact, not an assembly. 

The entire school, or I guess what looked like it, had gathered outside the back of the Burley District where I spent most of my time. It was where most of the mathematics classes were held.   

Instead of an open common like the middle of the grounds, a recreational hall like behind the Iruine District, or the creepy mausoleum beyond the Rothchild District. There was in lieu a hedge maze. 

Was it really a surprise that Hollow Heights would have a lavish maze probably with some spooky story attached to its name? Not really. 

I’d learned quickly it came with the territory. 

Ponderosa Springs and the university that was built upon it was not for the faint of heart. 

The over ambitious seven concentric circles made of boxwood hedges took up all the space behind the building before it faded into forest line. One single entrance into the encroaching formed grass, and what I assumed was one way out. In the center sat a tower with a double helical external staircase, just to confuse people more. 

Nighttime had come fast, students wearing glow in the dark bracelets and holding flashlights as they huddled in groups, laughing, enjoying another collegiate event they’d talk about on their wedding day. 

I envied them. 

Their oblivious nature and privilege. 

I wondered how many people would show up if they knew students were being taken and teachers were being murdered in the woods. 

Would they still enjoy themselves? Would the umbrella of wealth shield them from things even as cruel as death? 

I wasn’t so sure.  

Slipping my thumbs neatly into the holes at the cuff of my long-sleeve shirt, the polyester felt smooth against my skin when the wind pressed it tighter into my body. Lyra had braided my hair tightly down my back, hiding the slight red that stained my dirty blonde strains. 

We scrubbed the shower for hours on our hands and knees with little proof. The white tile had a faint pink layer now. Not to mention, my skin was still tinted the same color even after a clean shower. 

“They call it the Labyrinth.” Lyra speaks, walking in tune with me as we glide down the cobblestone steps to the damp grass in front of the soaring maze. 

My stomach rumbled with lack of food and exhaustion, “Of course it is.” 

I cross my arms in front of my chest, leaning on my left foot to peer into the entrance, greeted with the sight of darkness and a scarce amount of moonlight. There was no way we could navigate our way through this without a flashlight.

“It was inspired by the Greek myth, you know Theseus and the Minotaur? The builders wanted it to be a replica of the one in Crete. They do this game for the freshman every year, the challenge is always different and it’s usually a puzzle of some sort. I had been looking forward to this when I was high school.” The use of past tense does not escape me. Had been looking forward to, as in she could not care less now. 

They hadn’t only stolen our sense of safety, they’d stolen our sense of joy. We were so afraid to do anything fun, so scared they’d pop up around the corner and burn us to the ground. 

Which sucked because I’d always consider myself pretty decent at puzzles. 

“Welcome the freshman class of Hollow Heights!” One of the teachers announces with a microphone at the top of the cobblestone steps behind us. 

“We are excited to include you in a century old tradition here! Every single year is a different game but the reward is always the same. If you find the golden key inside the Labyrinth you win access to one of the school’s many hidden rooms that have been remolded into private recreational halls.”  

There is a loud cheer and resounding enthusiasm from our peers, more excited for the competition than the reward I’m sure. Although this is a renowned university with more plaques and awards than the fucking pope, they don’t offer organized sports, afraid athletics will become more of a priory than education and that cannot happen at a school like this one. 

If anyone for one single second thought Hollow Heights was doing anything to steer the greatest young minds of generations off course, they’d be discredited immediately. People try for years to get their children in here, to even have their applications touched by a fucking paperclip. 

This is where our future America would be coming from. 

It messed with my mind to know four of those people already had a rap sheet bloody as a tampon, what did they plan to do after this? Would they be helping kids? Ruling the free world? 

“Teams of two and three only! Each team will have fifteen minutes inside the maze to locate the key, if you are unsuccessful, after the air horn goes off raise your flashlight up to the sky and wait for a teacher to come and guide you out of the maze. As always we want to ensure your safety during these fun times…” They go onto a list of safety precautions that more than half of us won’t remember in twenty seconds, the other half didn’t listen the first time around. 

My eyes scanned the sea of students, subconsciously searching for one of them. Another quick lesson I’d learned is if you saw one of The Hollow Boys the other three were not far behind. There was never one without the other. Like sharks that hunted in a pack, it’s never the shark you see you need to worry yourself about, it’s the one lurking in the shadows that you can’t spot that’s more likely to take off a hunk of your leg. 

I don’t see Silas’s black hoodie, Thatcher’s frozen tinted hair, or hear the click of Rook’s zippo over the noise. I didn’t even feel the pressure that comes when Alistair’s eyes are on me. That’s usually how I know they are sniffing around. 

The panic. The sweat. The adrenaline. 

It’s like every feeling I’d ever experienced combined into one yet at the same time it was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. 

God, I hated him for it. 

But tonight I didn’t see them. I couldn’t sense their presence. Organized school functions weren’t exactly their thing anyway. Too many eyes, too many expectations to be upheld. 

I nudge Lyra with my hip, smirking a bit, “We can still make this fun, yeah? It would be nice to have a secret place to hide.” 

She laughs, breathy and it’s the first sound of joy in the last few weeks. 

“You really think we are going to find it before try hard Tracy and golden boy Garrett do?” Her eyes advert to Easton and Mary, a power couple in both vision and personality. 

I don’t miss the yellow and purple bruise adorning his otherwise perfect face or the way Mary has intentionally matched her cardigan to the color of his shirt. 

“This isn’t about whose daddy can buy them the biggest yacht. This is about navigating a maze. No money. No status. Sure, from day to day they have the upper hand, but right now, we have the advantage.” 

“Our charming personalities?” 

I push her shoulder lightly, the breeze catching her curls and pushing them behind her shoulder, “Besides that, smartass. Our advantage is street smarts. You think these kids have ever had to think on their feet before? Get themselves out of a tricky situation without their mom and dad? I doubt it.” I wasn’t being mean, just telling the truth. 

It seemed to me Lyra and I were the only two people at this school who’d grown up below the millionaire line. Sure Lyra had money now as an eighteen-year-old, but she grew up in the system and I knew how that was. I saw what foster care did to kids. What it turned them into and let them become. 

From birth you’re brought into this world without the ability to take care of yourself. You have to learn and adapt from others. Most have parents who guide and teach them. To show them the wrongs and rights of life. 

Then there are others. This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

The outcasts, the castaways, the loners of the world who learn all these things themselves. We learn the hard way, we learn by failing, by mistakes. We grow claws and sharp teeth instead of warm hearts. We fight our way to the top. We take care of ourselves and our own. That’s it. 

“You’re not worried about—” She pauses, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one is listening, “The maze catching fire or being hooked by a bear trap?” 

I don’t laugh, even though I should. I wouldn’t put it past any of them to do something like that. 

Was I worried? Yes. 

Was I going to let that ruin this? I was going to try like hell not to. 

“I doubt they’ll be here tonight. Plus they can’t get into the maze when we are inside, there are teachers at both entrances. We should be safe to enjoy ourselves tonight, okay?’ I reassure her. 

She nods, not realizing that I plan on continuing, “But I really think we should consider telling someone, Lyra.” 

Nothing comes out of her mouth for a while, silence as we hear an airhorn blare around us over and over again signaling the start and finish of people’s time inside the Labyrinth. 

“Let’s take tonight. Just this moment. Just one night of normal and we can talk about what we need to do in the morning.”

It was the closest I’d gotten to a yes from her. I knew she was more apt to say no right now, but I still felt like this was a small win. She was beginning to warm up to the idea of confiding in someone. The police. A teacher. Anyone who could help us. 

I hook my arm through hers, “You gonna be able to keep up in that skirt?” The green and black plaid material brushed the top of her thighs, putting me in the mind of Slytherin uniforms from Harry Potter. 

It was cute the way Lyra was such a paradox. She wore plaid skirts and corduroy pants to collect creepy insects from the mud. Always coming into the dorm with dirt dusting her knees and palms. The way she crossed her legs when she sat with a book in her lap yet burped louder than any grown man I’d heard after downing a can of Coke. How she could be so soft, so feminine, yet do something that would be viewed as tom boyish. I admired the way she was able to balance out the pieces of herself so easily. 

“Probably not, but we are gonna give it a shot.” She laughs, pulling me towards the shortening line for the entrance to the maze. 

We talked to pass the time, watched as students failed over and over again, the shrill airhorn piercing the sky just before a teacher announced another team had yet to locate the key. 

Our turn was next, we stood between Lyra’s psych teacher and my statistics professor, waiting for the go-ahead to enter the looming darkness between the plush green hedges. 

A gust of wind hit me from the back, pushing me forward enough that I had to catch myself on the edge of the maze. It barreled through the trees, their achy limbs groaning and swaying beyond us. 

Looking down at my balled fists, the way my nails dig into the flesh of my palm, as the rhythm of my heart begins to pick up. 

“Briar!” Lyra snaps her fingers in front of my face, attempting to bring me back to earth. 

“We are up.” She smiles, heading into the Labyrinth first. 

The fog has settled low on the ground, sucking her up into the mist as she disappears inside. Fear licks the back of my neck, but I quickly shake it off. Following after my friend. 

My hand reaches out to run along the side of the hedge maze, my other clicking the on button on my flashlight. The glare hits Lyra in the face and she raises her hand to shield off the bright light. 

I point the light towards the left, then back to the right seeing the two different paths. The fog making distant visibility nearly impossible. 

“Wanna split up? We can cover more ground that way.” She offers. 

My first instinct is to say no. We are stronger in numbers always. But this is a school function, not a plan of escape from them. So I nod, 

“I’ll take the left. Good luck.” I give a smile in good spirits. 

As we go our separate ways, I take a deep breath, tilting my head to crack my neck a bit. When I begin to navigate through the lefts and rights, everything becoming a bit blurred as I do so I try to pick up the pace. 

I know we only have so long inside here and I hate losing. The farther I get inside the more lost I feel, every turn, every change in direction feels like the wrong way. The height of the maze is too much for me to look up and over the hedges, so I can’t even tell if I’m close to the middle or not. 

I’m sure the airhorn will be going off any second now, that thought alone has me running faster. 

“I am a lifetime rat owner, I should be able to get out of this stupid thing.” I grumble, taking a deep breath and coughing a bit. My lungs wet from the fog. My heart ached a bit at the mention of Ada. If they let me graduate without killing me, I was coming back to stab him for killing my pet. 

I place my hands on my knees, dropping my head to catch my breath. 

When I lift it again, I lift it with my flashlight, scanning it in front of me. The light passes through the mist, catching the white paint of the tower that stands tall a few feet in front of me. 

“I’ll be fucking damned.” I whisper, a grin on my face. 

As I approach the structure I spot the golden skeleton key dangling from a single thread from the steps. Reaching on my tippy toes, I wrap my fingers around the brisk metal, pride filling me to the brim. 

I hear the pluck of the string letting the key go as it falls into my hands. There are a few seconds for me to admire the faux gold, but my action seemed to trigger a horrible set of events. As if the string had been booby trap and I’d been the perfect victim. 

Screams, high-pitched, ear-piercing shrieks erupt from around me. Voices shouting from outside the Labyrinth. I jump, spinning from left to right expecting someone to be near me. Instead there is a consistent ring of shots fired into the night, a distinct sound of gunfire. 

It’s just fireworks, I rationalize, even though there is no sparkle or flicker of colorful light that ascends into the clouds. I can tell myself it’s fireworks all I want, but it won’t change the truth. 

“Everyone remain calm and please, head to the courtyard!” I hear one of the teachers announce over the microphone, the voice echoing towards me. 

I wasn’t sure what was worse. 

Being trapped in this maze or not knowing what was happening outside of it. 

My survival instincts had been triggered more in the past few weeks than ever before. This was nothing like getting busted by the cops or almost being caught by the guy you’re stealing from. 

This is much worse. 

“Lyra!” I scream at the top of my lungs, my throat ringing painfully. “Lyra!!” I bail out, my flashlight guiding me as I start to retrace my steps that I’d already begun to forget. 

My eyes are straining to see in the darkness, working to look for Lyra, while also trying to get me out of this maze safely. The fog and screaming had already discombobulated my senses enough, now there was blaring music that begun to vibrate the walls of the Labyrinth. No lyrics, just discordant chords signaling a looming fate in my future. It sounded like music that was played on a carousel, meant to attract people to the bright colors and spinning horses. 

It’s just some joke the upper classmen pull on the younger students, I think. That’s all this is. 

“Lyra!” I try again but hear nothing called back for me. The sound of a loud thud reaches my ear, just before my eyes dart to the right and onto a thin black cylinder that had just begun spewing bright red smoke from the top. It leaked and bubbled spreading around me in thick waves. 

Starting at my feet before escalating up my body, I didn’t wait for it to continue taking up space. I started moving forward, my arms stuck out in front of me like a glorified mummy. 

Thud. Thud. Thud. 

More smoke bombs flying across the tops of the hedges, landing in random spots around me. The fumes have overtaken my vision, completely swarming me in an alarming bright red color. 

Terror washing over me, raising the fine hairs on the back of my neck. My heart pounding in my ears as my eyes burn with irritation. 

I was not frightened nor was I afraid. 

What I felt was beyond a useless noun. 

What I felt was a tangible, living force that crept over me like a hungry beast. It chewed at my raw flesh, tearing me limb from limb until it could feast on the immobilized heart inside my chest. 

I could no longer control my hands as they trembled. 

Coughs littered my lungs, waving my arms with little use trying to move the smoke from my vision. Everything was a blur, all of it spinning too fast. I stood for a few moments, my stomach churning, closing my eyes wishing I was little again. Wishing I was back home in Texas and seeking comfort in my father’s arms. Allowing him to protect me. 

I thought of my father and how he raised me to be stronger than this. Braver than the girl who lays down at the feet of those determined to knock her down. He showed me how to steal the wealth right under their upturned noses. I was taught to be unafraid of the bumps in the night. Because I was the bump in the night. 

A shaky breath grazes my lips, my flashlight doing nothing except illuminating the clouds of smoke directly in front of my face. I focused my ears to the sounds of screams, to where the voices echoed from, if I could head in the direction of them, it would lead me out of this maze. 

“Lyra!” I choke out, hoping my strangled voice will alert someone. 

I shove the key into my pocket, popping the flashlight into my mouth and holding it with my teeth as I tear my pullover off my head and tossing it onto the ground. 

A black wife-beater sticks to my skin with the help of some sweat that had trickled down between the valley of my breasts and onto my stomach. I steady my breath and try to calm the panic, moving towards the exit. 

That’s when I hear the snickering. 

A dark, hooded chuckle that made my muscles tense. They cause me to move my legs faster. Knowing something was close. They were close and I was trapped in here with them. The menacing aura from the sound had my bones shaking with panic. Echoes of laugher bouncing off the inside of my chest, buzzing in my head. 

The carousel music spun faster, surging louder and louder with every step forward. 

I felt a breeze of wind behind me, a chaste of a touch on my lower back making me spin around only to be met with more smoke. Another whisper of a hand against my left leg has me turning again. They were right there. Just beyond the wall of smoke, hiding, playing. I spun in circles while they grazed my body when I turned away from them. 

I was stuck in a false reality. Shoved inside a haunted game I wanted no part of. My stomach swirled, my mind swimming as they cackled and brushed against me. Appearing and disappearing into the shadows.

They were everywhere and nowhere at the same time. 

Impossible to keep up with. 

“What the fuck do you want?!” I scream, fed up with the games, tired of the cat and mouse torment. My flashlight pointed straight ahead as my chest heaved up and down with anger, “What do you want?!” I yell again. 

More laughter follows, my flashlight catching glimpses of their faces as they inch closer and closer. Walking side by side, their broad shoulders moving in synch with one another. Bits of a clown mask cover the one on the far left, the one in the middle with the signature jigsaw face, and the last sported a simple plain white one that had blood leaking from where your eyes would be. 

Vomit sits in my throat as they approach me. I back up, up, up, until I hit something solid. I was sure this is what hell felt like. The one with the white mask, the tallest, reaches out and hooks a piece of my braid between his fingers, rubbing it between his thumb and pointer. 

I stayed so still while he leaned into me, pressing my hair into the nose holes of his mask and inhaling desperately loud. 

“What do you want?” I ask with a scratchy, broken voice. 

What I thought was a piece of the maze, begins to move behind me. I step away from him, only to step closer into another body. I had nowhere to go, there was nothing I could do to prevent his arms encircling me, his palm clamping over my mouth as he pressed his hard body into mine.

The one who lurks in the shade and is a child of the night. Even with a mask I knew which one he was. I could feel it. 

I ready myself to scream at the horror in front of me, 

“Your fear.” His animalistic tone loud over the music and commotion. I can taste the leather of his gloved palm as I wail into his large hand.

The front of his mask is touching my nose. My eyes crossing to make out the black and white skull on the upper portion of his face, the part where his lips should be is hidden by a thick, black gas mask that distorts his voice. 

“Your silence.” He continues.

The smell of plastic and smoke is almost overwhelming, but not as strong as the underlying scent of clove and black magic. Adrenaline pumps through my veins like liquid gold. Every nerve ending firing, every atom shaking with energy. I was alive. 

I was in the hands of death and I felt so fucking alive. 

“The truth.” He grunts. 

What truth? 

That he’s a murderous son of a bitch? I could have already told him that. 

Alistair’s arm snakes around my waist, heaving me closer if possible, the labored sounds of his breathing through the mask, making me quake. I cringe as his dark eyes embed in my soul through the skull. 

“I own you now, Little Thief. We own you. You belong to us. Be sure to remember that.” The growl wobbles my bones, my bottom lip trembling.

I cower at his statement, knowing I couldn’t do anything about it anyway. I couldn’t save myself from this moment. I couldn’t stop this from happening. 

My heart thudded so hard, I knew he felt it against his own chest. Hot, wet, fluid soaked between my thighs, my body sexually aroused from the charge of primal terror. I told myself it was just my body’s natural reaction. That I couldn’t help it. It was a biological response. 

His grip on my body tightened, the hand over my mouth become harder, “You like being afraid don’t you, Briar? You like playing in the shadows with us monsters?” He questions, baiting me like a child. 

I jerk against his grip, trying to show as much deviance as possible in my eyes. I was tired of being chased and him catching me. I was exhausted from running, from waiting for him to make a move. I didn’t want to play the scared little girl anymore, even though I knew I was not on the inside. 

My body nearly refused, pieces of me wanting to seek out his warmth and the desire that wafted off him in waves, but I fought that back. With all the strength I had left in my body, I reared my head back before slamming it forward into his nose. 

A satisfying crunch registers only briefly before I am tearing away from his body and sprinting towards the opposite direction, not stopping to see how he reacted to the headbutt that was making my head throb in pain. I stumble into the maze, falling into the sides of the hedges, scratching and cutting my arms. I could hear him behind me, his heavy footsteps, the way his boots beat into the ground. 

My chest ached for a clean breath of air, without the smoke, my legs burning as I rounded another corner. 

I turned for a split second, just to see how close he was to me and when I did my body collided with another. My immediate reaction was to fight them off, kicking, scratching, screaming bloody fucking murder. 

“Briar! Briar!” My name is yelled from my attacker as they attempt to gather my hands in their grip, fighting my nails off their body. 

“Help! Someone help!” I barrel out, continuing my fight. Delirious and broken. 

“Briar! It’s Dean Sinclair, I’m trying to help!” Who I thought was one of my attackers turns out to be the dean of our school. A dean who had wondered into the maze in search of the two students trapped inside after the commotion outside of it. 

The walls surrounding me seem to cascade down as I slump into the arms of someone that’s not them. The devil could be reaching his hand out to help and I’d take it. Mr. Sinclair wraps his arms around me holding me to his broad chest that smells of old spice and cradles the back of my head, “It’s okay, you’re okay.” He coos, probably feeling the erratic jumps of my heart and seeing my frazzled state. 

I shut my eyes, tears escaping them and it was at that moment I was so tired of crying. 

I was so fed up with puking and feeling helpless. Playing a game they were experts at. Nothing but a pitiful little pawn in their chess match. They were ruling my life, my nightmares, taking over my life. 

A life I fought to have and I was just letting them take it. 

They were spoiled assholes with vendettas I wasn’t involved in. They wanted to kill me, fine. But I was done with their torments and their sick jokes. 

I was done being the puppet. I was done being the mouse in this cat dominated game. 

If they want to play then fine. 

I’ll play too.