Box of Crayons

Chapter 3 - Brown

As I reenter, Andy drops the box in his lap while trying to put the red crayon back in the box. He grabs the box again. This time he holds the box in front of his face as he slides the red crayon back in place.

I ask, "What's with the crayons?"

He puts the box back in the left pocket of his hoodie. "It-It's nothing."

I let it go for now while sitting on the other side of the table. "Are you ready to start again?"

He says, "I-I I guess so."

I respond, "Go on. What happened after the hair cutting incident?"

He leans forward looking me in the eyes. As if someone else might overhear him, he whispers,  "Then I killed someone." He leans back looking back down at his lap.

I ask, "Who? How did it happen?"

He says, "Corrina Maxwell. I was in college at State at the time. I met her in a coffee shop just off campus. She was three spots in front of me in line. The chocolate colored hair was down to the middle of her back. It was like her hair was paused in time just for me. It was perfect and straight.  Then she moved up in line, and I realized it wasn't mine. A deep craving within my soul pulled me forward, but I dared not to get too close.

A few weeks pass before I get the courage to introduce myself. She was upset one day, and I tried to comfort her.  I didn't like the disheveled look of her hair. I wanted to fix it, but I was too scared to touch. I thought that maybe it would pull me in and drown me. I wanted her to fix it since I couldn't. I asked her if she had a hairbrush. She then went to the bathroom to fix herself up. When she came back I tried to describe how beautiful she was to me, but really I was talking about her hair.

She had just broken up with her boyfriend and didn't want to be alone. She invited me to her apartment. When we get inside, she pressed herself against me while crying. The only thing I could think of was the soft whisper touching my cheek. She pulled away for a moment, and pressed her warm lips on mine. Her tongue exploring my mouth. She had her eyes closed, but mine were open. My hand crept up her back until it reached her bra strap. I was afraid to reach higher, but then she shifted her mouth and her hair brushed against my hand."

The young man starts to fidget with something in his hand at this point.

He continues, "I don't remember when the kiss ended, but I didn't want to take my hand out of her hair. She pulled away from me, but she grabbed my hand pulling me towards another room. After a couple of steps I realized that I had an erection. At the time I wasn't sure if it was the kiss or her hair that caused it, but I know now.  We went to her bedroom. I I-I..."

I say, "it's OK son. I can understand not wanting to kiss and tell. Does anything happen in the bedroom that I should know about? Anything violent?"

He nods with tears falling down his cheeks. "After..  After she got up from her knees, I saw a pair of scissors on her bedstand. I-I grabbed them. She screamed when she saw. She fought me, but I did manage to get some of her hair. She kicked me in between my legs, and pushed me out of her apartment. While I was pulling up my pants, she opened the door one last time and threw one of my shoes at me, and that was the last time I saw them."

I nod. "OK so how did she die? How did you kill her?"

He gives me a confused look. "I killed her. When I woke up the next day, I had more of her hair than I had left her apartment with. I would recognize her hair anywhere. I wouldn't have left it on the counter like he did though. I have a much better place to put it. I heard about her death on the news later that day." He fidgets with something in his hand again.

I say, "What is that you have in your hand?"

Alarmed, he starts putting it away. "Nothing!"

I half stand up to see him slide the last bit of a brown crayon back into the box.