A Game of 21 Questions

Chapter 1

I don't know what to say.  I'm honestly shocked this happened.  I mean who would kill my brother?  Who would want to kill my brother?  I stare into the depths of the green carpet.  I hate this carpet.  People are just...crazy.

"I'm sorry for your loss Mr. and Mrs. Becken," the country-accented police officer said apologetically.  His mustache quivered.

"It's okay," I continue, "thanks for telling us."  I still stare at the carpet.

"You do know that Chicago P.D. did sign a search warrant on this property, right?"  My mom started sobbing a bit harder hearing that.

"Yes."

"Good, I'll be on my way," he said, "and again, sorry for your loss."  He opened the door slowly, and with looking back, shut it behind him.  He was gone.  I looked back to my mother, trying to focus on her instead of what I just heard.  I try everything in my power to comfort her, but it doesn't work.  I sit back, watching her sob into her tissue.  When she's done with one tissue she hastily searches her purse for another one.  I hate seeing her like this.  It puts me on edge.

"Would you like a glass of water?" I ask anxiously.  Water always seems to calm her down.

"Yes, please," she manages to choke out.  I walk to the kitchen and grab a water bottle out of the fridge.  She hates water from the tap.  She always goes on about how it's contaminated or some shit like that.  That was back when we were a family.  Dad, Mom, John, and I.  Nows there's just two

I return with the glass of water, and sit right next to her on the couch.  John and I used to play "The Floor is Lava," game.  We would have to jump from couch to couch and try not to touch the floor.  John always won.  I would always remember in school John made fun of me because I couldn't do much of the things he could, like sports.  He'd make fun of me in front of his friends.  I didn't like him very much.

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I decided to look through John's stuff in his room.  Maybe I could find something...I don't know.  I looked around desperately, but then I found it.  His suitcase.  He always told me to never touch that thing.  I mean never touch that thing.  Well he is dead, so I guess that rule doesn't apply anymore. 

I reach the case and open it.  I search it over and over again to make sure I haven't missed anything.  I check the side compartments and a small black and white flash drive.  Hmm, I thought, I wonder what information this holds.  I run over to the computer in what used to be my room.  Thank God mom never got rid of it.  I turned the computer on.  I plug it in carefully, and his files pop up.  I scroll through, scanning each one, but one caught my eye.  It was called "My Death Video."  John never really understood what "cool titles," are.  I click on it, and a minute long video pops up.

"Hello, my name is John Becken," I listen intently, "I live on 481 Paper Avenue, Chicago, Illinois.  If you're watching this I'm probably dead.  Listen close because I don't have long to say this."  He seems anxious.  Why?  "If you find my brown suitcase labeled 'John Becken,' open it.  Look in the right side compartment, there should be a key.  When you get the key go to the address 21, Third Avenue.  It should be a large building with 25 floors.  It's called 'Roth Records.'  Go into the elevator, and go to the 21st floor.  It should be specialized workers only, that's what the key is for.  Good luck," he starts to leave but sits back in his chair again, "If you're watching this Mark, baby brother, I want you to know that I care about you.  I know it my not seem like it, but I do."  He hesitates for a moment before saying his last words to the screen.  "I love you."  The screen goes black and I'm left with so many questions flying around in my head.

I fall on the ground and start sobbing.