"Three days had passed, since they found the body..."

Three days had passed since they found the body. I stared at it from across the room. It smelled like death, if there can even be such a scent. The smell was bitter, disgusting, like chemicals and rotten meat, but what can you expect when you have a job like mine? This is strictly professional, I thought to myself, pulling on my latex gloves. I hadn’t told anyone yet, so why shouldn’t it be my job? I was the best, and this case absolutely called for the best.
I took a look towards the stainless steel table, isolated in the middle of the room. I watched my reflection twist and stretch, distorting itself in the curves and corners of the table as I slowly stepped closer to it, and reached my hand out to white sheet, covering the body. My hand shook, terrified of what I would see.

They would notice something was wrong, soon, when the data was due. This shouldn’t have been so hard. It was just like any other day at work; another pathetic soul, another life lost, another cold, dead body waiting for an answer.

But this was different. I already knew what happened that night. I knew exactly where he had been. He had called me only hours before to let me know. I told him not to. I did. I remember, but he did he listen to me? Did he ever listen to me? No, and look where it got him. But I did know. I knew his secret. He had made me swear not to tell. He told me that it would be fine, that he knew exactly what he was doing, and, like always, stupidly, I listened to him, hoping that, this time, he was right.

“You’ll know the rest later, okay? Just don’t say anything yet. Please. Just don’t say anything. This has to be done. You’ll understand later.”

So now I had a few options. I hate having options. I’ve never been good with making decisions, and this decision, particularly, was throwing big red flashing lights my way, screaming at me to get away! But it was too late. I had to do something. I couldn’t just walk away.

Option one: I could lie, pretend I didn’t know him, examine him, announce the cause of death unknown, keep his secret, and let some other unfortunate “expert” try to solve, what I knew was, an unsolvable case. Option two: I could tell them how I knew him, tell them his secret, solve the case, stop the villain, be a hero, and deny his dying wish. Thinking over my two, equally unpleasant options, I forced myself to throw back the sheet, and stare at my brother’s face.