20| after

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Detective Solomon is sitting behind his desk, his eyes locked on the screen of his computer, dark circles under his eyes. All around him, people move back and forth with big folders in their hands, cups of coffee, and ongoing phone calls. The whole thing resembles a beehive.

He can hear them buzzing inside his head. Probably because he hasn't slept properly since the body was found. Probably because coffee and cigarettes don't make for a very good meal. Probably because he can't stand this fucking case anymore.

He looks at the play button without clicking on it. Solomon found the police recording while doing a background check on Levi Brightly. It was dated November of last year.

That's the thing about an investigation like this one. There are all kinds of clues. The case screams obvious. It begs to be talked about and people do. Everyone has something to say, someone to blame.

After a while, he finally presses play. On the screen of his computer, Levi Brightly sits on a chair of an old, barely lit interrogation room. Everything about him makes Solomon's stomach recoil. His face's a terrible crime scene, eyes like rotten tomatoes, swollen and bloodshot, cheekbones covered in sick, bruised skin, and lips busted open.

The detective thinks of a punching bag. On the screen, Levi moves slowly and carefully as if the wrong move might open up his stiches. Solomon knows there are a lot of stitches under his ribs. He knows there are broken bones.

The officer doing the interrogation clears his throat.

"I'm sorry about what happened to you," he begins. Levi doesn't say anything to that. "My name's Clive Holland. I'll be taking over your case. If you don't mind, I would like to go over the events of Friday night with you."

Levi nods slowly, crossing his arms over his chest in protection. He's wearing a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled upwards to cover his neck. It doesn't cover enough though. Solomon can make out the hand-shaped bruises on his skin if he focuses his eyes on it for long enough.

"Your parents were out of town," the officer says.

"Cooking seminar," Levi says.

"Yes, and your brother took it upon himself to throw a house party, correct?"

Levi nods.

"He has lots of friends," he says. "They were all there. The house was a mess."

"And were you friends with these people?"

If Levi could, he would have shown the officer a bitter smile, but he can't, and so he doesn't. Only his eyes give it away. He shakes his head.

"My brother and I move in different circles," he says. "He has his friends and I have mine. Especially now that he's in the police academy."

"Still, I'm sure your brother brought his friends over enough times for you to get to know them," he says and Levi nods. The officer doesn't need to ask his questions. Levi already knows what he wants to hear.

"They never liked me," he says. "Both the old and the new ones. Most of the times they just ignored me or laughed at my expense when they thought I wasn't listening."

"And your brother?"

"Usually, he was the one throwing the punchline."

"I see," the officer says. "So why did you go to that party? You didn't really know any of them. They didn't even like you."

"Sean told me to come. He's a childhood friend of my brother, the only one who was ever nice to me. Sometimes, when the others were all busy playing video games, he would come to my bedroom and hang out with me instead."

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