Goodbye, My Brother

My brother had witnessed so many murders that he should have remained calm even when faced with a catastrophe. But at the moment, he was like a drowning fish and said, "Pretty close."

Capital punishment, the thing that everyone knew what it meant.

Familiar modus operandi.         

My brother raised his hand and tried to trace the white paper, but he was trembling so badly that he couldn't hold the tip of the pen at all.

The detective on the side patted him on the shoulder and said, “Mr. Fuentes, maybe it was a coincidence or a copycat crime."

For some reason, when my brother was trying to profile the murderer, the brushstrokes drew the victim first.

The outline looked very much like me. But when he reached the facial features, he stopped drawing.

I knew he might be thinking that it should not be me. So, he took out his mobile, flipped to my phone number and pressed the dial button after hesitating for a while.

But no one answered.

He waited impatiently for three rings, then hung up the phone before saying in disgust, "What the hell! How dare she not answer my call."

I could not understand why he was annoyed. It could be because I ignored him and did not answer his calls within seconds, or maybe it was because the scene was too bloody and my brother was restless.

"Captain, we have a new discovery. Look here, the bloodstains here look a bit strange."

After hearing the new discovery, Henry, the Captain and my brother walked over to the bloodstain that belonged to me.

I saw him frowning and staring at the bloodstains in a daze.

Unfortunately, the traces I left behind were covered by more blood. So, after the large amount of blood dried, only the grotesque remained.

"Looks like scratches from a death struggle."

The Trace Division Criminalist took photos and speculated. Then, the statement was recognized by everyone.

I was so anxious that I screamed at my brother, "Brother, if you look more carefully, you might be able to discover the secret I left behind."

But he only looked back and left with the detectives.

Back at the police station, my brother stayed up late and worked overtime to profile the murderer based on photos from the scene.

But just like the other unsolved case, he could only draw the outline of the murderer and had no clue about the facial features. As a result, a sheet of drawing paper was crumpled into a ball and thrown all over the floor in annoyance.