The Lies we Steal (The Hollow Boys Book 1)

“But I do know, I’m obsessed with the way you feel pressed against me. The way your lip curls when you’re angry makes me want to piss you off just so I can see it. I’m constantly angry when I hear other people make you laugh, it makes me want to hurt them, because for a moment they were making you happy and I want that job.”
She smiles against my skin as I continue.
“And right now, I could stay here for a lifetime just feeling your heartbeat rise. I’m not sure what I can give you, but whatever is left of me, whatever I have, it’s yours, for as long as you want it.”

I knew there was something in her that craved me realizing it wasn’t me, but the chaos that came with me.

She liked the shadows too. Liked to lurk there. Stay there

At first I was going to let it go, but even after that class she was gnawing at me. Bugging me with her multicolored eyes. A mixture of gold, brown and green swirled into one spiral. So I checked Facebook before I messaged Silas. I hadn’t been on Facebook in fucking years. I had to create a fake ass account to even look her up. Turns out she isn’t into social media either.

Everything inside of Thatcher is dead.

All emotion. Feeling. Remorse. Everything.

You never know how good ownership feels until you’re the one who is never allowed to have anything, the one who’s always being taken from.

As hungry as I was for retaliation, I couldn’t help but hope this was the end. That Chris drugged Rosemary trying to get in her pants and it ended terribly. We could torture him until he died slowly. Then we could get on with our lives.

Except Silas, of course. It would take him years.

I’d watched them grow up together, Rose and him. She was the only one who really understood his schizophrenia. When they were together, it was like they were in their own little, twisted world.

I wasn’t sure how long it would take for him to get over. If ever.

Every tattoo that was on my body, I’d either done or drew myself. My entire body was my portfolio

I had nothing I wanted to live for.

By twelve I had covered the space with them. So, when they remodeled it into his office, I never saw those pictures again. They had all been thrown away. Just another nail in my emotional coffin.

Not wanting him to win, never wanting my doodles to ever fall into their hands again, I started drawing on myself. My fingers, my hands, arms and thighs. Wherever I could reach.

I often wondered if my father and mother even glanced at me, saw that I actually had talent. But I could have been an MIT graduate at ten with an IQ that rivaled Einstein and it still wouldn’t have been enough to equal my brother. There was nothing I could ever do that would be good enough for them.

I think it was better I learned that at a young age instead of living my entire life vying for their attention when it would never happen. They had everything they needed in a child when they had Dorian. I was just waste.

By twelve I had covered the space with them. So, when they remodeled it into his office, I never saw those pictures again. They had all been thrown away. Just another nail in my emotional coffin.