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submitted by altencruz
I downloaded an app called 'How Will You Die?’
I first opened the app at the dinner table.
Even though I’m almost 21, I still live near my two brothers and our mom. Every month we get together for a nice dinner. This particular dinner wasn't exactly "nice"; my oldest brother, John, had just goaded all four of us into downloading it.
"Heart attack," Tim said, pushing his plate of steak away with a troubled look on his face. "At only 62."
"Ha, look at mine! Shark attack at 84," my mom said, throwing back her head with laughter. "Very creative. John, what's yours?"
He refused to meet her eyes. "Car accident.”
"There's no way an app could predict your death," I said, crossing my arms. “It’s dumb.”
“What does yours say?” Tim asked.
I tapped on the icon, which was a clock that had claws for hands. As soon as I did, white letters filled a black screen.
HOW WILL YOU DIE?
TAP TO FIND OUT!
I tapped the button.
Cause of death: fratricide
Fratricide? Like… . brother murdering brother? Okay. I had to admit, that was a little creepy. I glanced at my two brothers across the table, then quickly focused back on my phone.
"What? What does it say?" Mom asked.
"Uh… I die at age 20," I said, not willing to reveal the cause just yet.
"Aren't you 20 next year?" Tim asked.
"No. I'm 20 now."
"Oh, shit," he whispered.
"What was the cause?" John asked.
I glanced at them, uneasily, my heart beginning to pound. "Uh. Fratricide."
The room went silent. Both of them stared at me, then glanced at each other.
"Look, look. Like you said, Anthony… it's just some stupid app, right?" John said, with a nervous laugh. "There's no way it could actually predict your death."
"Right," I added, hesitantly. "No way."
I glanced over my brothers. Both of them were tall, muscular, well-built. I was short and skinny. The shrimp of the family. One of them could easily--
No! It's just a stupid app! I mentally scolded myself.
"When exactly does it say you'll die?" Tim asked.
I found the 'countdown' tab and tapped it. A little timer appeared on the screen.
0 days. 0 hours. 26 minutes.
"Uh… in twenty-six minutes."
The room went silent. Even mom looked worried, her gray eyebrows furrowed.
"Well, the app is just a stupid prank," John said, swishing one of his enormous hands through the air. I imagined those hands around my neck. Squeezing the air out. The world growing dark.
"Yeah, don't worry about it, man," Tim said, getting up with his plate. The steak knife sparkled in the overhead lights, and I imagined him grabbing it. Charging at me. Plunging it into my throat. “John, want to help me clear the dishes?”
And then it was just Mom and I, sitting across from each other. She must’ve read the worry on my face, because she reached across and squeezed my arm. “The app is just for entertainment, Anthony. It’s not real.”
I lowered my voice to a whisper. “If it’s for entertainment, why would it say ‘fratricide’? I bet half the people who download it don’t even know what that word means.”
Dishes clinked softly from the kitchen.
“And you know that things have been rocky with John and Tim lately. John’s furious about the will, even now. After he showed up that one time--”
“He was drunk,” Mom interjected. “He’s sober now.”
“He had a knife,” I whispered.
“It wasn’t a knife, it was a swiss army tool, and he only mentioned it because you--”
“Okay. What about how both of them beat me up, all the time? When we were kids, even teenagers?”
“Rough-housed,” Mom corrected. “Not beat you up.”
“When I’m half their size, it’s beating up,” I shot back. “I don’t even get it. They’re the popular ones. With the girlfriends and good jobs. They have so much more than I do.”
“So you’re a little different. So what?”
I frowned at her.
“You have a good head on your shoulders. They don’t. That pays for a lot, these days.” She started up from the table. “I’m going to the bathroom. When I get back, none of you better be talking about this anymore. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something, and I don’t have time for this app nonsense.”
“The will, again?”
“You’ll find out when I get back,” she said.
I watched her leave.
As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut, the water turned off in the kitchen.
Shuffling footsteps. And then two hulking shapes appeared in the doorway. My brothers stood there, faces darkened in the shadows.
Both of them smiling.
I didn’t think. I leapt up from the table and ran for the door. “Hey!” “Stop!” “Anthony, please!” They both shouted after me, but I didn’t listen.
I just ran. Like I ran, when they wanted to “roughhouse”.
I got in the car and started it up. Peeled away and sped to my apartment building. I kept glancing in the rearview mirror--but no pair of headlights showed up. I pulled into the parking lot, glanced around, then ran out. My entryway was on the other side of the building, and I sped around the corner as fast as I could.
I was so focused on getting inside, I didn’t notice the figure standing in the shadows, right next to the entryway.
“Can you help a brother?”
A pale face poking out from a black hoodie. Blue eyes, that somehow looked strangely familiar. Where had I seen him before? Did he live here? “I--uh--”
"I just need some money. Come on,” he said, a twinge of impatience in his voice.
“Sorry, I need to get--”
His hand shot out from the darkness and grabbed me by the wrist. “You have to give it to me.”
“Let go of me!”
“No.” His voice was cold and hard. Then he yanked me back. I toppled down. "Get away from me," I shouted, scrabbling away from him.
"Give it to me!" he snarled, those strangely familiar blue eyes staring into mine. "You have to.”
“I don’t have to give you anything!”
“Yes, you do,” he said, leaning over me. His reeking bad breath filled my nose. “Isn’t that what flesh and blood does for each other? I finally found you, and now you won’t even help your own brother?”
And that's when I realized.
Those familiar blue eyes. The structure of his face. Mom’s words echoed in my mind: So you're a little different. She wasn’t just telling me I was scrawny, or a nerd, or a social outcast.
She was telling me I was adopted.
I pulled my legs up and kicked him. Hard. Where it hurts.
He let out a moan of pain. Doubled over. I shot to my feet, pressed my fob to the entry, and ran inside.
I didn’t stop until I was in my apartment, panting, wheezing. With shaking hands, I pulled my phone from my pocket. Tapped on the How Will You Die? icon. The app loaded, then opened.
Cause of death: Cancer
Age of death: 81
submitted by BlairDaniels