King Of The Diamonds

Chapter 23 | after

There's Nothing Worse Than Too Late.

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When my Mom was alive, and before my father turned, she used to tell me the story of the day Brett was born.

Both Royal and I were with my fathers friends in Brazil, while Mom and Dad had gone to Chicago to look for a home for us and her waters broke, despite her being only 7 months.

They rushed her to hospital instantly, but many staff were delayed because of a storm. She told me how the sky roared that night, and she'd never seen anything like it before. Eventually, she gave birth to a little boy, naming him Brett after her father. According to them both, the moment Brett started screaming was the exact moment the storm halted.

My Mom told me how she never forgot that day, because of the pure fear that she could lose her baby. My father gave him the middle name Raiden, meaning Thunder God.

I don't know how accurate that story was, or which parts my mother altered for my childhood ears.

But I did know this.

The world had roared, raining and thundering and crying, as my little brother was brought into this world.

And the sky was entirely silent the day he was took out of it, and the day after, and the day after.

He died young and broken and desperate.

The same way we all knew he'd die.

It didn't feel real.

But I knew it was.

It was unavoidable. I knew one of us was going to go out young, but Brett? Hell no.

Brett was sneaky and snide and smart.

But as he lay on that concrete, blood oozing from his body, he wanted to be dead. It wasn't the first time he wanted the sweet relief of death, I knew that for certain.

Yet it was the first time that death greeted him.

That's how I knew it was coming, that's how I knew he was dead.

Brett King was infamous for always getting what he wanted.

"Mr King?" My head shot up, my eyes catching that of the counsellor. "I have to ask, can you identify him as your brother?"

"Yeah." I swallow visibly, looking down at my brothers cold, dead body lay across the metal table. "Brett. He's called Brett."

"I've been told to tell you that Brett died from exsanguination, presumably caused by a gunshot and knife wound. The bullet to the head and the knife to the right lung. Yet his body showed many signs of physical abuse and even torture. May I ask if you had any knowledge of this?"

"Brett was involved with the wrong kinds of people." The lie tastes bitter in my mouth, but I continue with the lie that we had conducted. "Neither me or any of my siblings have seen or heard from him in weeks. He probably pissed someone off."

"Ah." Her voice was sympathetic, but I knew it was all for show. Working in a job like this would make even the most innocent of children cold. "It's also difficult to inform you that the Police are not conducting a murder investigation due to lack of evidence. Your brother was found in an alleyway with no security camera footage, and his body was wiped clean of any fingerprints that could've helped the police. The person who did this to him knew what they were doing."

That they did.

I nod my head at her, walking out of the morgue.

It'd been 5 days since my brother was murdered.