Page 4 of The Lies We Steal

“Wouldn’t be the worst scandal here.”

“So if a pathologist would lie about something like defense wounds and foul play, what else is he covering up? Better yet,whois he covering up for?” Thatcher asks.

“I think we should pay the good doctor a visit.” I scan my eyes across my two friends. Rook’s mouth quirking up into a smile as he flips his zippo across his fingers, snapping it shut.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” He mutters.

Thatcher grins sharply, “As long as I get to cut first.”

We made a deal.

A promise to one of our best friends, that we’d figure out who did this to his girl. Left her dead and dirty. All of us giving up our plans to leave this toxic place for an entire year, just to get the revenge he needed.

Not even God could save the people who got in the way of that.

Briar

We are all thieves, Briar. I just got caught.

That’s what my father used to tell me every time he was whisked off in the back of a police car.

To an extent, he was right. We're all thieves.

We steal air from the atmosphere so that we can breathe. We steal happiness. We steal lighters, there is no such thing as, “Hey man can I just borrow your lighter?”

If you believe they are going to give it back, well, you’re just an idiot with one less lighter.

But most of us, all of us really, we steal time.

We aren’t owed any set number of minutes on this earth, yet we take it anyway. Every day you wake up, is another day yanked from the inside of the hourglass.

I was eleven by the time I learned how to pickpocket. Nearly a professional, I’d mastered the art of seven bells within six months and soon I’d become a criminal prodigy.

So while my mother was flipping burgers, my father would set up mannequins all dressed in men’s suits, strewn with pockets, and they would be rigged with seven strategically placed bells.

My goal was to pick the mannequin clean, without ringing a single bell.

I was his mini-me. His pride and joy. His little criminal.

I had dexterity, speed and I was agile.

Pickpocketing, lock picking, safecracking, all the things to make a perfect crook I’d excelled at by thirteen.

Other little girls learned ballet. I could break into a firesafe without breaking a sweat. I mean hell, there wasn’t a lot I couldn’t do. Even when he’d first started guiding me, I knew it was wrong. Stealing was bad. Everyone knew that.

But those moments I spent with my dad? Those late nights perfected my technique and were the best time of my life. His profession kept the lights on, food on the table, it kept my family together.

Yeah, some families probably bonded over board games, mine bonded over larceny.

“There is honor among thieves, Briar. Honor among us.”

I’d been used to him going in and out of jail, spending a few months here and there, but he always came back to me. He promised he’d always come back to us.

But one day he didn’t.

My moral compass never did have true north. Maybe it was why I was always so curious about things I shouldn’t be. I was aware that my behavior is not socially ethically, but I didn’t regret anything I’d ever done. I did it for my mom. I was working with the skills I’d been given.

When life gives you lemons, steal a fucking juicer.