Page 43 of The Lies We Steal

“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.

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