The Bad Seed

by Lee Hayes

  Cross wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t want this situation to turn violent, out of fear that someone would get hurt.

  “Okay, Brandon, why don’t you put some clothes on so we can talk?”

  “I talk much better without my clothes; ask your friend. Baby, all I’ve ever wanted was you. Everything I’ve done was for you. You love me and I understand how hard it is for you to admit it because of this situation, but no one can stop our love.”

  “This boy is crazy as shit,” Lorenzo said. “And I’ve had enough. I’m calling the police. Where the fuck is my cell phone?” Lorenzo looked around the room and disappeared into the hallway.

  “Are you going to let him do that, baby? You gonna let him turn me in for some shit I did for us?” Brandon’s voice became elevated.

  “Brandon, you need to calm down.”

  “I know, I know. I just get so excited when I’m around you. See, look.” Brandon smiled sexily and looked down. Cross couldn’t help but notice Brandon’s growing erection. “You see what you do to me? I can’t help it.” Brandon stepped closer to Cross, who pushed him back.

  “Brandon,” Cross began with a heavy voice, “you need to listen to me and listen to me good. I don’t love you. I will never love you. You and I will never, ever be together. Do you hear me, you stupid boy?”

  Brandon flinched as if he had been slapped across the face; the words stung.

  “Stupid? Baby, why are you talking to me like that, huh? Is this foreplay? Ahhh, I get it. You’re trying to upset me because you like it rough, huh? That’s cool. I like it rough sometimes, too.”

  Cross shook his head, almost in disgust. He couldn’t figure out how to get through to Brandon, so he decided on being direct. “You are fucking delusional. I don’t know what else I can say to you to get you to understand that if you were the last man on earth, I still wouldn’t fuck you. You see, I like my men much more sophisticated than you. You’re just a boy who doesn’t know his head from his asshole. You wanna play grown-up games but you’re too much of a child to know when the game is over.”

  “I ain’t no fuckin’ child!”

  Cross was intentionally pushing his buttons in the hopes that it would shock him back into reality, but he wasn’t sure it was working. Brandon looked confused, as if he couldn’t decide what his next move would be. Cross felt a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach and he felt like running away, but he didn’t. He wanted to talk Brandon off the ledge.

  “Why don’t you take your little backpack and go to the playground with the rest of the children?” He pushed again.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought we had something, Cross?”

  “Why the hell would you think that? You don’t know this, but when I first started teaching, I tried to have you removed from my class, but no other teacher would accept you, so I got stuck with you. I didn’t want you then and I don’t want you now.”

  Brandon froze in place.

  As Cross looked into his eyes, he saw tears form in the corners and then fall down his face. Brandon remained still as the tears fell. His eyes were fixated upon Cross. Cross heard Brandon’s heart break but it was necessary to end this.

  Then, Brandon spoke. “Do you have any idea what I’ve sacrificed to be with you? My mother tried to keep us apart, but you don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

  Cross suddenly felt a sense of dread like he had never felt before. “Brandon, what does that mean?”

  “You think I’m crazy, but I’m not. I know what I’m doing. I’m going to leave now. Is that okay?”

  “Did you do something to your mother?” he asked with concern. Brandon didn’t speak.

  Cross was torn between pursuing this line of questioning and letting Brandon go. He decided to let him go; if Brandon had done something to his mother, there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t lash out at him.

  Brandon bent over and picked up his backpack and the clothing surrounding it. Brandon slid into a pair of jeans and threw on a blue shirt. Cross looked toward the door for a second, hoping Lorenzo was nearby. He didn’t see Brandon lunge toward him and plunge the knife into his stomach.

  It took him a few seconds to realize what had happened. Cross felt his own blood ooze out of his body and stain his shirt. It wasn’t until he tasted blood in his mouth that he truly understood what had happened.

  Brandon held him against the wall and pushed the knife in deeper.

  Brandon whispered in his ear. “If I can’t have you, then no one will.” Brandon kissed him hard, in spite of the blood in Cross’s mouth. The kiss was deep and full of youthful passion. As he kissed him, he pulled the knife out.

  Cross managed to let out one loud scream for Lorenzo before he collapsed to the floor. When Lorenzo raced into the room, Brandon stabbed him, too.

  Lorenzo went down swiftly.

  EPILOGUE

  Brandon, clad only in a pair of tiny bikini underwear and an oversized pair of expensive sunglasses, lounged at the pool of the beautiful mansion of his benefactor on Grand Turk Island in the Turks and Caicos Islands. The sun bathed this island paradise with a magnificent splendor and Brandon couldn’t resist soaking up some rays. He was enjoying a second tropical drink brought by one of the servants; he didn’t know what the drink was nor did he care to find out. It suited his palate well.

  It was here on Grand Turk Island that he found peace.

  On Grand Turk Island, the bluest water he had ever seen sparkled with a brilliance he did not understand; it cleansed his hands of blood.

  With all the brouhaha sounding the attacks, Brandon had fled. Once he had left Cross’s house that morning, he had slipped out of town unnoticed, with the assistance of his benefactor.

  He could never go back to the United States, at least not as Brandon Heart. His benefactor had promised to use his considerable wealth to buy him a new identity, but Brandon was in no hurry to leave this island paradise.

  Here, the warm breezes blew away unpleasant thoughts.

  Here, the troubles of the world were a thousand miles away.

  Here he found peace, even if it was without Cross.

  When he thought about the sacrifices he had made for love, he felt no remorse. Love always required sacrifice and great love always required great risk; love is a gamble and you win some, you lose some. In hindsight, Brandon saw the error of his ways. If he had played the game differently, had been a little more subtle and patient, then maybe he would be in paradise now with Cross instead of his benefactor. Lesson learned: patience is a virtue.

  He wished Cross hadn’t forced his hand and driven him to commit the ultimate act. When Cross mocked him and cast him aside, Brandon felt his hands had been tied and that he had no other choice. He couldn’t let the blood sacrifice of his mother be in vain. He offered his mother for slaughter, yet Cross scorned his love.

  If he wouldn’t give his love to Brandon, then Brandon wouldn’t let him give it to another.

  “Brandon, why don’t you come inside? We need to get ready for dinner,” his benefactor called out. Brandon smiled. He wasn’t being called for dinner; he was being called for something more carnal. He had grown particularly fond of Blues Carmichael and he thought if you can’t have the one you love, then love the one you’re with.

  “Alright, Blues, I’ll be there in a second, baby.” He looked up and saw Blues blow him a kiss. Now, more than ever, he was happy he had met Blues.

  They were kindred spirits, cut from the same cloth.

  Brandon grabbed his phone and logged onto the Internet. He read a story about a dead mother, a crying father, a wounded lover, and a remarkably strong-willed teacher who had survived a vicious stabbing by a “deranged student” as described in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution.

  Deranged.

  Brandon didn’t like that word. He wasn’t deranged. He was just crazy in love.

  Some monsters, like Blues are made; others, like Brandon are born bad, rotting from the inside out.

  Once
a monster, always a monster.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lee Hayes is the author of the novels Passion Marks, A Deeper Blue, The Messiah and the editor of Flesh to Flesh: An Erotic Anthology. He currently resides in the Washington, D.C. metropolitan area. He can be reached at lee@leehayes.info or via Facebook at www.facebook.com/leehayeswriter. Please visit his website at: www.leehayes.info