Killed by Dad's Criminals, Dissected by Mom

Chapter 5

Mom seemed to have a premonition, gripping Dad's arm tightly, her nails digging into his flesh.

"The deceased is your daughter, Emily."

Mom staggered to the ground, repeating in disbelief, "Emily? How can it be her?"

Dad held onto Mom tightly, preventing her from collapsing.

A police officer whispered, "Captain Johnson, they found a self-built house near the crime scene in the abandoned development."

Dad made a quick decision, "Let's go to the crime scene. The lab must have made a mistake."

In the car, Mom repeatedly dialed my number.

Dad drove intently, assuring, "Don't worry. Emily's probably at the station, conspiring with the lab to fool us."

But he should have known this wasn't something to fake.

I felt suffocated, like a snake coiled around me.

The self-built houses were notorious for harboring shady characters.

Some residents even had fake IDs, unafraid of police investigations.

When my parents arrived, caution tape already encircled the house.

As the door opened, a nauseating stench hit them.

The bedsheets were soaked in blood, and the walls and floor were splattered with it.

Even as a spirit, I couldn't stop shuddering from the torture I endured before dying.

The day I was kidnapped, Sophia called me.

She said she injured her leg, which might affect tomorrow's competition.

Even though I disliked her, I didn't want to worry my parents.

But when I reached the place she mentioned, I was knocked out from behind.

When the blindfold was removed, I saw Sophia and a man with a sinister smile.

I didn't know who the man was.

But Sophia's words chilled me, "I brought her here like you asked. Now let me go. I need to deal with those old folks."

The man's cheek twitched, smirking as he waved her off, "Keep your mouth shut."

As Sophia turned to leave, she sneered, "Pretend we never saw this door. Don't worry, I can't wait for Emily to die."

After she left, the man seemed to notice my confusion and fear.

He cruelly gouged out my eyes, shoving a rag in my mouth as I screamed in agony.

"Don't recognize me, huh? Your parents caught my brother. He only killed his wife but lost his life because of them!" The cold blade traced my skin, and I trembled uncontrollably.

The man's next words stunned me, "I waited so long and caught the wrong one."

"If your sister hadn't told me your parents adopted her to protect you, I wouldn't even know you existed!"

He tortured me for a day and night.

With my eyes gone, I didn't know where the next cut would land. Only the warmth of blood and the relentless pain reminded me I was alive.

Until the next day, when my body was numb from pain, the phone rang.

The man chuckled, "It's your dad. Seems they care about you."

Dad's impatient voice reached my one remaining ear, "Emily, on such an important day as your sister's tennis match, you dare not show up?"

Mom added, "She's an ungrateful wretch. Sophia lost points because she didn't come to watch."

I whimpered for help, but tongueless, I couldn't make a sound.

Before hanging up, I heard Dad scold, "Pretending to be dead, huh? Shouldn't have brought her back in the first place."

At that moment, Mom weakly entered the place where I met my end.

The man let out a quiet laugh. "Your father called. They do seem to care about you."

My father's impatient voice cut through to my only functioning ear. "Emily, how dare you not show up on the day of your sister's big tennis competition?"

My mother chimed in, "She's so ungrateful. Sophia lost points because she wasn't there to cheer her on."

I whimpered for help, but without a tongue, no sound came out. Before the call ended, I heard my father's cold rebuke, "Now she's pretending to be dead? We should have never taken her back."

At that moment, my mother stumbled into the place where I met my end. She covered her mouth and sank to the floor, tears splashing onto the ground. I looked at her tear-streaked face, puzzled.

Whenever Sophia got even a minor scratch, my mother would tear up. But this was the first time I saw her cry for me. My father took a deep breath, put on gloves with a steady hand, and picked up the blood-stained journal from the table. His eyes widened in disbelief as he opened it.

Inside were photos of Sophia and notes about the places she frequented. But it wasn't her who had died. A look of shock crossed my father's face, as if realizing something profound. His chest heaved as he clutched his heart, his once straight back now bent.

I heard his mournful cries mixing with my mother's sobs. Mom, Dad, you always said you wished I had never been found. Now, as you wished, I can never return. So why aren't you happy?