My Brother, The True Killer novel Chapter 1

The injustice of his accusation, the weight of his hatred, tethered my soul to him, even in death.

I watched as Lucas stood in the autopsy room, examining the dismembered body with the medical examiner. Neither of them realized it was me.

"Many parts are missing," Lucas observed, his voice clinical. "Based on the muscle density, the victim was a young woman, likely starved for days before death. There's barely anything in the stomach. The killer's motive for that is unclear."

"The body was also exposed to high temperatures, destroying most of the identifying features and DNA. The dismemberment is similar to that infamous serial killer case from a few years back. And Mom and Dad's case..."

His eyes filled with a sudden, intense rage. He slammed his fist on the table.

"It's him. It has to be the same bastard who killed our parents ten years ago!"

The medical examiner, noticing a smear of frosting on Lucas's cheek, spoke gently. "Is it your birthday today, Lucas? I'm sorry if we interrupted your celebration."

Lucas's face softened. "It's not mine. It's Lydia's birthday."

The ME looked surprised. "You two finally made up? That's wonderful, Lucas. Your parents' death wasn't her fault. You've been holding onto this anger for too long. It's time to let go."

The mention of my name extinguished the warmth in Lucas's eyes. His voice turned cold.

"Lydia? That freak? Who would celebrate her birthday? It's Simone's birthday."

The name Simone pierced through me like a shard of ice. Simone was the girl Lucas had adopted, the sister he cherished, the one who had taken my place.

If he knew I had died on Simone's birthday, his hatred would only intensify.

"Don't mention that freak. She doesn't deserve it."

Lucas took a deep breath, his analytical mind taking over.

"There's a high concentration of endorphins and serotonin in the deeper tissues. The victim was likely tortured, kept awake and aware of the pain. This wasn't a random act of violence. The killer had a personal grudge."

He had inherited our mother's brilliant mind, her forensic instincts. He was right.

"Unless," he continued, "there was a power outage, disrupting the killer's plans, forcing him to speed up the process."

I remembered watching Simone, from my spectral vantage point, as she methodically dismembered my body. The power had gone out for three days. I couldn't smell the decay, but I could hear the crows gathering, their caws growing louder with each passing hour. The boarded-up windows rattled with the frantic buzzing of flies, their bodies piling up on the windowsill, a grotesque mirror of my own fragmented remains.

Yes, Lucas, keep going.

With your brilliant mind, you'll find the killer.

You have to avenge me, Mom, and Dad!

But then, his phone buzzed, and the light in his eyes dimmed.

He never checked his phone at work.

Unless it was Simone.