Page 9 of Please Hate Me

“No, it’s not your fault. Pregnancy hormones, you know?” I cleared my throat. “So, who’s going to be picking you up from the airport?”

Chapter 4

Lucian

My eyes darted around the airport, searching for Cameron around every corner. His flight was supposed to land half an hour ago, and if I didn’t see him soon, I was going to lose my mind. To make matters worse, Sebastian stood next to me, holding a giant poster with the word Princess written in red. He’d decorated it withstickers, of all things—sparkly stars and hearts, complete with a shining crown sitting atop the capitalP.

This was the most I had seen him smile in years. He used to do shit like this in high school, back when I was dating Mason Albright, and he was trying to steal her from me. To him, she was nothing more than a toy. He never considered that she was with me because she genuinely liked me. She had always just been something for him to take. Yet another way to prove his superiority. He’d cook up some harebrained scheme to ask her to prom or take her for a drive and then act all giddy, just like this. But he never stood a chance with someone like her. And even if he did, she was a million miles away, making music and living my dreams.

Anyway, now wasn’t the time to think about that whore who fled the country the second things got hard. Right now, I needed to smother Sebastian’s ego just a little.

“Don’t you think the sign is overkill for someone who won’t show up?” Steam from my coffee cup flooded my face as I questioned Sebastian.

“Lucky, if you keep up that negative attitude, I’m going to think you’re jealous.”

I rolled my eyes at his stupid pet name. “What the hell would I have to be jealous of?”

“Once you see her, you’ll understand,” Sebastian assured me. “She’s stunning.”

Our dad used to pit us against each other, comparing our accomplishments like collectibles. Seb was always better than me academically. He was some type of fucked up genius that graduated high school before he was ten. But I had the social game on lock. Prom king, tons of friends, not to mention I was one hell of an athlete. The only thing Seb and I had in common was that neither of us was good enough to impress our dear father. After a while I realized I’d be a disappointment no matter what, so I started doing whatever the fuck I wanted. But Sebastian tried to mold himself into our dad’s golden boy. Part of me felt bad for him.

Not bad enough to quit teasing him, though.

“Anyone can look nice when they pull pictures from the internet.”

There were two possible outcomes to this scenario.

One: Sebastian’s fictional lover could just... not show up. He’d get a few texts about how she was“running late”and“just waiting for her baggage,“ but in the end, he’d have to accept he’d been stood up and go home.

Two: Sebastian’s girlfriend could be a completely different person than the pictures she’s been sending him. What would he do if some random girl just ran up and jumped into his arms?

Either way, Sebastian would be devastated, and I couldn’t wait for him to be miserable.

“You know I went to see her back in April, right?…. And again in June. If I hadn’t gotten busy with work, I would have—“

“How is work anyway?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Oh, the case?” He laughed.

“Uh, yeah—do you have some other job?”

Sebastian was supposed to be one of the smartest people alive, but moments like this reminded me what a dumbass he was.

“No, I just didn’t think it interested you.”

It really didn’t. All serial killer stories were the same: some deranged fuck-up killed a bunch of people while the cops sat around jerking each other off. Everyone always missed the signs, and honestly? I could do Seb’s job if I tried hard enough.

“I wanna hear it.”

Sebastian lowered his sign, holding it under one arm while straightening his glasses with the other. “Well, it began about fifteen years ago in rural Quebec. Rumors started of a cult based around this kid—I think he was maybe seventeen at the time, but the reports aren’t conclusive...”

Listening to Sebastian’s lecture reminded me of being in school. He sounded just like a teacher, droning on while I fought to pay attention. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he delved into the details of his latest case. I begrudgingly listened, partly out of curiosity, but mostly to distract myself from my growing frustration over Cameron’s continued absence.

“They called themselves the Sons of Christ,” he continued. “They believed in some twisted prophecy that this young boy was God’s avatar on earth. One day he would supposedly have a son, and that boy would be the second coming of Jesus. Once thatson came, all of his most loyal followers would be rewarded with immortality.”

I crossed my arms close to my chest, causing the leather of my jacket to squeak. “People believed that bullshit?”

Sebastian nodded once. “And what’s even more disturbing is that they actually attracted a significant number of followers. Among those followers were hundreds of women volunteering their wombs to carry the second coming–”

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