Where’s my brother? by Marcelus Breckenridge

He sat and pondered whether she was lying or telling the truth. He stood in front of her, sweat dripping, eyes burning like the sun, the cold metal in his hand pushing for the attention of his anger.

 

“Where is James?” he questioned the woman dressed in bloody overalls and a pink blouse. She smiled with laughter coming through her teeth. Her teeth showed the blood for her beating and her laughter echoed evil. The tall man, dressed in black slacks and sneakers, paced the floor, tapping one finger against the cold metal in his hand, staring furiously at the beaten woman. Her shoe flew at him, revealing her polished toes, and she laughed aloud as she said, “You will never see James face again, as long as you live.” Those were the last words she spoke before the angered man shot her.

 

Jasmine Jones was the woman killed by the man looking for James. The man was Marcelus Breckenridge, a CEO at Nike Industry, and James was his little brother who had gone missing. James Matlock was a troublemaker: He gambled, drank, stole, and cheated. Unfortunately, James stole from the wrong people, the Gangers. The Gangers was a well-known, wealthy family who just so happened to be very dangerous. James stole and sold information about Jose Ganger’s company, which caused the family to send a death threat to James. However, once they found James’s apartment, he was already gone. The problem was, no one knew where James went and whether someone else had found and killed him.          

 

Marcelus left the filthy room covered with blood from the body of Silvia Gordon, an assassin whom James had mesmerized, cheated and stolen from. She had actually come looking for James when she found Marcelus trying to find evidence as to where he might be. However, Marcelus was unaware that she had come to kill his younger brother.

 

The building felt abandoned as he left it, the air slapping him in the face. He pulled his Ray Bans out of his shirt and put them on. He noticed an all-black Bentley SUV parked slightly on the corner of the building. It looked as though it was still running and ready to pull off. The thought came to his mind that that must have been her get-away car. He walked closer to it and looked in the inside. There was nothing, not even an air freshener, over the window. It was clean. Disappointed, Marcelus walked down to his gray 2012 Charger and began to the next destination, James’s ex, Patrice.

 

Patrice was a very angry woman who didn’t like liars, cheaters or thieves, but she loved James. Although James and Patrice had broken up a year ago, she was always the one he went to when something was wrong. Marcelus pulled across the street from her little off-white ranch house. Her one step porch was painted a light blue, and the door was pure white, with a line of red across the top. Marcelus knocked under the sign on her door that said “In God I Trust.”

 

Dressed in a pale green t-shirt and ripped-up jeans, she opened the door smiling, holding a cup of ice cream. “Marcelus! How are you?” she welcomed her old friend and ex-boyfriend’s brother into her home. He entered with caution while nodding at her. She sensed the tension in his face and body language.

 

“What is the matter? Is something wrong? You look like you just lost all your stock or something?”

 

Marcelus smirked at her not-so-funny joke “I’m fine, how are you?” He proceeded into her living room where he took he seat.

 

“Well, I’m fine. Just sitting here with Mr. Kibbles, eating ice cream and watching Wild Out with Nick Cannon. What brings you over?” Patrice now had a concerned look on her face. She was wondering what brought James’s brother, whom she had not seen in seven months, to her house.

 

Bluntly, Marcelus asked, “Where is James?”

 

Patrice was puzzled and sat beside Marcelus, gazing into his still bloody red eyes. “I don’t know where James is. I haven’t talked to him in three weeks. Why, is something wrong?” Marcelus shook his head, stood and walked towards the door. Patrice followed him, wanting answers.

 

“Marcelus, what is wrong? Is there something wrong with James?”

 

A firm hand touched her arm and the words came from Marcelus lips: “I don’t know.” Patrice’s face was unreadable and paler than her shirt; she was stuck and did not understand.

 

“James went missing,” said Marcelus, and threw his head down.

 

“Oh, no!” gasped Patrice. Marcelus’s head shot up and he stared at Patrice.

 

“The last time I talked to him, he told he got rid of the trouble. He said everything was good now. What do you mean he is missing?” Patrice began to panic.

 

Marcelus was clueless and puzzled. Sweat and a tear rolled down his face. His bodied trembled from the questions in his head. As he walked out the door, he thought of ways to find his brother. But he soon realized that he didn’t have the ability and strength to find him. All hopes had failed, and his dreams of finding James were dead.

 

By the time his mind stopped racing, Marcelus realized he was home, but something was wrong. His stomach turned as the smell of horror came out the crack of the front door and, as he touched the knob, he noticed it was unlocked. The creaking door opened slowly as his palms sweat and suspicion filled his mind. As he looked through the door, blood was spattered over the white walls and stained the light grey carpet. There James was, lying lifeless, dark and gloomy. As a fast reaction, Marcelus ran with fear, heart beating rapidly, head spinning, eyes burning, to James Matlock. He lay next to the cold body, grieving, gasping for his own life.

 

With blood-shot eyes, Marcelus noticed a note stained with blood on James’s chest. He slowly pulled it off, blood dripping onto his shirt. “Where are my diamonds?” it said.