Woes of a Brother

November 2, 2010
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I used to think I would be such a good person, that I would not tell lies, but now I know lying is what I do. A tear slowly trickled down my cheek, and the sun glared off of the black casket. The lid stood open and the lifeless face of my twin brother pierced my eyes. I know what I did, I didn’t deny, but I couldn’t get caught. How was I going to get out of this one? Soon the only ideas I had were lying, doing what I do best. I was the one last seen with him. The cops are going to suspect, they’re going to question.

The funeral had ended, and I was brought to the police station for interrogation. I sat surrounded by a dark, cold, black room. The metal table showed my reflection as I rested my head on my hands. I lifted my head, and saw myself on the table. A lot of question came to my mind, all coming at once. Who am I? WHAT am I? Am I a monster? How can I live like this? What are my parents going to think of me?

The opening of the steel door snapped ne out of my daydreaming. A tall man with a suit and hat walked into the room, with a tape recorder in one hand and a clipboard in the other. He pulled the chair out from under the table, laid the tape recorder, which was now on, on the table and sat down.

I stared at his pale face, and watched him slowly look up at me. He sighed deeply and began to question me.

“Tell me what you did.”
“I didn’t do anything.” I said seriously. I was always a good liar.
“Come on. Everyone knows you did it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve done nothing.”
“You’re gonna go to jail for this. I hope you know that. H*** you might even go to a mental institute,” the anger showed in his voice.
“I can’t go anywhere if I didn’t do anything. So, I was last seen with him, so what. I was taking him to the park. What’s the big deal?” I made myself sound so innocent, and all while I was being a mastermind. I had him all read like a book, and there was no way he’d get the information out of me.
“What’d you do at the park?” The cop’s pencil rested in his hand, he was ready to write.
“Shot some hoops, went swimming, sat down and talked, got a bite to eat.”
“Where’d you go when you left?”
“An alleyway.”
“To do what?”
“Tell me exactly what you did in the alleyway.”
I knew this was it, I had no lies left, I did good, but what was I going to tell him? There’s nothing kids do in a small alleyway. Not around here at least. I had to tell him, and then I had to do something. If I killed him, everyone would know. I had to break the tape recorder after I told him.
“I did it.”
“I did it okay! I took him to the alleyway after the park and I killed him. I’m a killer. I like the feeling of killing. I like it a lot. So I killed him, right there. He’s dead, and I’m the one who did it.” Then I reached across the table and took the tape recorder and threw it at the wall. It shattered into quite a few pieces, and it was broken. It would no longer work.
“I got you, I got you already.”
“No, you don’t have any evidence. The cameras? They’re off; I asked them personally if I could have some privacy. Your tape recorder, shattered. You have no evidence of what I did, and you can never prove it. I’ll be set free, no one will take your word, I have to tell them myself. There’s nothing you can do.”
“I’ll find away to get you behind bars you psycho.”
“You think I’m a psycho?’ I let out a small chuckle. “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

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Karamel This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Nov. 4, 2010 at 11:17 pm
This is interesting: it's new to me, how you wrote in the POV of the criminal himself. I know the main character doesn't think he's necessarily a criminal, but let's face it: he is. Maybe add a few more descriptive details. A professor once told me that if you throw scent into your story, you will have captured your reader, at least a little. Scary, I admit, but new for me. Good job.
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