That year, I was ten. I begged my brother to come home for my birthday. He died in a plane crash. Not a single trace of his body was ever found. From that day on, I became a festering wound, a constant source of their agony in my parents’ eyes. They resented me, blamed me for Caleb’s death. Every year, on the anniversary of his passing, they’d drag me to the cemetery and force me to my knees before his empty grave, a grim ritual of repentance. Eight years. Eight agonizing years. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life atoning, but on my eighteenth birthday, I was stalked and murdered by a killer. Before I died, I desperately tried to message Mom for help, but her voice was sharp, full of accusation. “You just don’t want to atone for what you did to your brother, do you? You’re a pathological liar! If you hadn’t forced him to come home, my son wouldn’t have died. This is nothing but the karma you deserve!” The call was mercilessly cut short. I stared blankly at the dark screen, and suddenly, all will to live drained out of me. She was right. What face did I, a jinx, a destroyer, have to live on? But then, eight years later, my brother, who everyone thought was dead, returned. And he brought his pregnant fiancée with him. When they learned of my death, they both shattered. **Chapter 1** On my tenth birthday, I made a fatal mistake. I caused the death of my own brother. Growing up, I lived in a happy home. Loving parents, an amazing older brother. I was everyone’s darling. But all of it, everything, was irrevocably ruined by a single phone call. It was my birthday that day, and I called Caleb, wanting him to come home to celebrate with me. Instead, he lost his life. A plane crash. Not a single trace of his body. From then on, Mom and Dad hated me with a burning intensity. They said it to me more than once. “Why did you force Caleb to come back? Why wasn’t it you who died instead?” That accident didn’t just kill Caleb. It killed me too. Guilt, regret, the constant accusations from my own parents – they pushed me deeper and deeper into an abyss. I must have asked myself a thousand times why I called Caleb back, why I caused his death, why God would take him away. If I hadn’t called him that day, would he still be alive? But there are no ‘if onlys’ in this world. And no one was willing to give me an answer. From that tenth birthday, my life was reduced to two words: atonement. Every year, on the anniversary of Caleb’s death – which was also my birthday. Mom and Dad would send me to the cemetery, making me kneel before his tombstone, begging for forgiveness. This kneeling went on for eight years. Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any bleaker, I was found by The Rain Reaper, and brutally murdered. Honestly, in that moment, I fought like hell to live. I pulled out the taser Dad had given me, disguised as a cute white lamb keychain. Dad worked a dangerous job, and he’d made a lot of enemies over the years. Once, Mom and I were kidnapped. Mom, trying to save me, was dragged for dozens of yards by the kidnappers’ car. Dad, fighting for us, was stabbed in the chest. With the help of the police, we eventually got out alive. So, from then on, Dad, worried for my safety, specially gave me that keychain, which concealed a high-voltage taser. After teaching me how to use it, he told me, “Dad can’t always be by your side. You have to protect yourself.” But for some reason, when the killer grabbed me, and I desperately fumbled with the pendant, trying to activate it and stab him— It just… didn’t work. It was broken. I lost my last chance to survive. Even now, I vividly remember everything I went through. A wrench, pliers, an axe – tool after tool, mercilessly used on me. My horrified expression only seemed to fuel the man’s twisted excitement. It hurt. It hurt so much that I sobbed uncontrollably, losing control of my bladder and bowels. I never imagined the sound of bones breaking could be so loud, echoing so clearly in my ears. Flesh tearing from bone, my vision blurring crimson. I drifted into unconsciousness. When I opened my eyes again, I was a spirit. To my astonishment, I found myself in the police station. Thunder and lightning crashed outside. Dad, dressed in his work uniform, his eyes filled with a deep, weary sorrow. Several young forensic pathologists were gathered around. On the examination table, there was a bag filled with expertly cut pieces of a body. This was what Captain Miller and his team had painstakingly recovered, the only body bag not completely washed away by the relentless rain. I never thought. That my death would be discovered so swiftly. Perhaps it was heaven’s pity for my tragic life. A homeless man rummaging through a dumpster found a bag, opened it, and thinking he’d stumbled upon some free meat, saw human fingers instead. A torrential downpour had just begun to uncover the gruesome dismemberment case. Outside, lightning flashed, thunder roared, and rain poured down. Every officer, along with their K9 units, scoured the city. Captain Miller’s face was livid. He couldn’t control his emotions. The brutal dismemberment case mirrored the methods of The Rain Reaper, a serial killer from seven or eight years ago. “Dave, doesn’t this case remind you of The Rain Reaper’s methods from eight years ago?” Dad’s expression darkened. The Rain Reaper was a killer who specifically targeted rainy nights, with a particular fondness for torturing and murdering young women. He had shattered countless happy families. Back then, Dad had finally gathered enough evidence to apprehend The Rain Reaper. But the killer, sensing he was cornered, escaped first. Then, for revenge, The Rain Reaper tampered with the plane Caleb was on, killing him in that accident. Neither of their bodies had ever been found. So Captain Miller immediately thought of that madman. If he hadn’t died, he would surely return for revenge. He couldn’t help but warn Dad. “Dave, if this really is The Rain Reaper, you have to make sure Eleanor and Skylar stay indoors. Most importantly, protect Skylar. She’s often The Rain Reaper’s preferred target!” But hearing my name, Dad’s anxious face instantly cooled. He spoke in a chillingly flat voice. “She should have died a long time ago.” Hearing those words. My heart ached. He was right. I should have died a long time ago. These past eight years, they were stolen years. Captain Miller knew about what happened back then. He wanted to offer comfort but could only frown, a deep crease forming between his brows. Back then, after learning of Caleb’s death, my parents searched the mountain where the plane crashed for three days and three nights. Finally, with bloodshot eyes, they knelt by the roadside, begging heaven to return Caleb to them. The pain of losing a child in their prime was something my parents could never move past. Thinking of this, Captain Miller sighed. “Dave, don’t think about it too much. The precinct is urgent; this case is high-priority!” Dad knew his duty and began his work. He carefully took out the pieces of flesh from the bag. But in that instant, he couldn’t help but curse under his breath. “Goddamn his whole ancestry.” “Is this even human?” Some of the younger forensic pathologists, seeing such a body for the first time, turned red-eyed. But for now, the most crucial task was identifying the victim. After the officers brought back all the body fragments they could find. Dad began piecing together the body. I floated beside him, watching him spend an entire day assembling a skinless torso. I felt a strange sense of relief. I knew how gruesome my death was, and I was afraid Dad would be scared if he recognized me. I was also relieved that my life, filled with so much guilt, was finally over. Captain Miller looked at the crimson body on the table. Even after years as a police officer, his face was disturbingly pale. He asked Dad the killer’s motive: was it to hide evidence, or was it a deliberate act of a psychopath? Dad’s face was grim. After a long silence, he spoke in a hoarse voice. “It’s not about hiding evidence. Our tests show the victim was flayed alive.” He clenched his fists, trying to control himself. “This was purely for revenge!” He pointed at my body. “Look, on this body, there are even traces of salt corrosion! The killer, to torment the victim, carved her flesh off piece by piece!” As he spoke, Dad’s face was filled with unbearable pain. He choked out, his voice thick with grief. “And she was just a young girl, sixteen to twenty years old! What kind of hatred, what kind of grudge could cause this?!” I floated beside Dad, silently applauding him. He truly was the best forensic pathologist in the city, able to accurately determine how I died. Captain Miller’s eyes grew colder and colder. “That sick bastard! A soulless monster!” His chest heaved with rage. Then he asked again. “We’re currently searching for missing females aged sixteen to twenty from the past two days. We hope to find the victim’s information as soon as possible.” Hearing this, Dad seemed to recall something and spoke again. “Right, the bag where the killer stored the victim’s remains is missing the right leg bone. It’s highly probable that the victim’s leg bone has congenital or acquired scars, deformities, or surgical marks that could identify her.” “And because the victim’s face was destroyed by acid, it will take time to restore her appearance.” He sighed, taking off his gloves. Next to Dad’s hand lay the blood-stained lamb keychain. Clearly, he had forgotten this was the very tool he had given me to protect myself. Having finished his work. My dad glanced at his phone, but seeing the content, he angrily called Mom. “Did you see Skylar Hayes’s calls? That liar, how could she say such a thing? I think she’s doing it on purpose, trying to provoke us!” Dad was clearly furious. “Doesn’t she know that if she hadn’t insisted Caleb come back, he wouldn’t have been killed by The Rain Reaper? And now, Skylar Hayes claims she was being stalked!” I watched Dad’s face, red with anger, and felt a pang of sadness. Dad, I wasn’t lying. I was really dying. How could I, the one who caused Caleb’s death, intentionally provoke you? How could I do such a thing? I was utterly helpless at that moment, which is why I sent you those messages, begging for help. But Dad couldn’t see me. Neither could Mom. I heard her on the other end of the phone, sounding just as angry. “I saw her messages too. I ignored them. She must just be trying to get out of her penance. That deadbeat girl, she doesn’t care about atoning for anything!” I listened to their accusations against me. Sadly, I covered my ears. Just when I thought my death would go unnoticed by them. My best friend, Chloe Jensen, rushed into the police station. She said I had been missing for two days. But just as an officer was about to take down my name. Dad stopped them both. “No need. Skylar Hayes is my daughter. She’s not missing; she’s just trying to blackmail me and her mother…” Hearing this, the officer looked awkwardly at Chloe Jensen. He knew Dad’s rank and could only turn and leave. I watched Chloe Jensen leave the police station, her face utterly distraught, tears streaming down. I wanted to chase after her, but I was bound to Dad’s side. Watching him process my skull, following him home after work. On the dining table, without fail, were roasted lobster, garlic butter shrimp, and baked salmon. Mom remembered Caleb’s preferences but never remembered that I was allergic to seafood. Once at dinner, Dad asked me why I wasn’t eating, and I thought he finally cared. I clutched my forks, gathering courage, “Dad, I’m allergic to seafood…” Mom slammed her fork down on the table, pointing it straight at my nose, her voice a furious hiss, “What sin did I commit to give birth to such an ungrateful child! I worked so hard to make this feast, and now I’m the bad guy?” I looked helplessly at Dad, the hero who used to protect me whenever I made Mom angry when I was little. This time, my hero just put a large piece of lobster onto my plate, “Eat your food, don’t make your mother angry.” Their gazes enveloped me, as if not eating would make me a sinner. In the end, all the seafood ended up in my stomach. That day, my throat swelled so much I could barely breathe, my eyes were so puffy I couldn’t see, and my whole body was in agonizing pain and itching. “H-help… help me…” My voice was terribly hoarse. I stumbled to the door, trying to open it, but the doorknob wouldn’t turn. Panic seized me. I pounded on the door, struggling to make a sound. “Help… help me… Dad, Mom… help me… I don’t want to die…” In a daze, I heard Mom’s voice from the living room. “It’s just an allergy; no one ever died from an allergy. Good thing I locked the door, she always fakes being pathetic, it’s disgusting! Last night, Caleb came to me in a dream and said he wanted the newest gaming console. Hurry, let’s go, the mall will close soon.” No! Mom, Dad, don’t leave me! I don’t want to die, save me… The living room door slammed shut with a bang, and I was utterly abandoned. Let it be. Maybe if I died, it wouldn’t hurt so much. I curled up in the corner, waiting to die. From downstairs, I heard the laughter of a father and daughter, clear through my only working ear. “You clumsy kid, you know you’re allergic to peanuts, and you still ate them! You almost died!” “I’m sorry, Dad, I didn’t do it on purpose, please don’t tell Mom.” “Your mom already knows. She was so worried her back started hurting, and she still made a table full of your favorite dishes for you. As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters. What parents would truly hold a grudge against their child?” I felt like a sewer rat peeking at someone else’s happiness, greedy and masochistically stealing glances at a joy that wasn’t mine. In that moment, I felt utterly ashamed, with nowhere to hide. I wanted Mom and Dad to love me too, to care about my food allergies, to cook my favorite meals, to fuss over me. But I was just the bad kid who killed Caleb, unworthy of love. But Mom and Dad, I don’t want to die, I really don’t want to die… I didn’t die that day. At the last minute, I jumped out the window and was rushed to the hospital. The doctor said I was lucky to arrive in time; any later and my life would have been in danger. An aunt by the bedside, peeling an orange for her daughter, said to me, “It’s a good thing you’re alright, otherwise your parents would be so worried!” I watched enviously as the aunt fed her daughter orange segments, one by one. My lonely reflection stared back from the glass. I comforted myself, as if announcing to everyone, laughing loudly, “Yes, Mom and Dad love me very, very much.” Suddenly, the hospital room door was violently pushed open. I saw Mom and Dad rushing towards me, their faces etched with urgency. A wave of grievance spread from deep within my heart. Enduring the pain, I struggled to sit up, tears dripping down. “Dad, Mom…” I’m so scared, I’m truly terrified of dying… Will you hug me? Just for a moment, just once… Mom grabbed my collar, yanking me off the hospital bed and onto the floor. The IV needle ripped out, blood spurting. “You damn slut! Faking being pathetic, eating yourself into an allergic reaction, and then deliberately jumping out a window to make a spectacle of yourself, trying to tell everyone your dad and I mistreat you, to ruin our reputation, right? Why didn’t you just jump to your death?!” I curled up, hugging my head, my body getting kicked again and again. I wasn’t trying to hurt Mom and Dad, I just didn’t want to die… I gambled on the three-story fall and won, but I didn’t win against the depth of Mom and Dad’s hatred for me. I saw Dad leaning against the wall on the glass, watching coldly as Mom clawed at me with her nails, while the aunt in the next bed comforted her frightened daughter, soothing her gently. The crowd gathered at the hospital room door looked at me with disdain and scorn, as if I were a vicious child. The fragile illusion that Mom and Dad loved me, which I had painstakingly built up, was completely shattered in front of everyone. I lied to you. Mom and Dad don’t love me. They… they hate me the most… After that, Mom and Dad cut off my allowance, and I applied to live in the dorms. I ate plain bread rolls from the cafeteria for a dollar each, alongside free vegetable broth. I slept in a cramped, bare room with a thin mattress on a metal frame, the kind meant for double the occupancy. The hundreds of dollars for accommodation consumed all my scholarship money each semester. As I moved from middle school to high school, accommodation fees increased, forcing me to study day and night, hoping to score just a few extra points each time to win scholarships and survive. I always thought that if I became outstanding enough, Mom and Dad would eventually love me again. The reality was that when I brought home near-perfect test papers, and visiting relatives praised me, Mom retorted without thinking, “She’s as dumb as a rock, not even half as smart as Caleb. How could she score so well?” Immediately after, her arm swung wide, and she slapped me across the face. “Tell me, who did you cheat off of?” My face burned with pain, and my heart burned with it too, wishing I could disappear. Later, when my homeroom teacher called to confirm my grades, Mom just glanced at the shredded test papers in the trash can and sneered. “What’s there to brag about with such low scores? Your brother got perfect scores in every subject back then. You’re so pathetic, not even ashamed of these scores!” Along with those test papers, my heart was also shredded. Mom and Dad liked smart kids like Caleb, so I worked hard to erase myself, to become like Caleb. I studied even harder. Spring, summer, autumn, winter – prickly heat, chilblains, mosquito bites always found me relentlessly each season. When I walked out of the exam hall after my SATs, I finally had a chance to prove I was as excellent as Caleb. Mom and Dad would start loving me, right…? But I died on the eve of my SAT results being released. Until my death, I never managed to become the excellent child, loved by Mom and Dad, like Caleb. I watched Mom and Dad fill Caleb’s empty bowl with rice, silently adding food to it. This scene repeated day after day for eight years. Wasn’t I, the one who caused Caleb’s death, the reason Mom and Dad became like this? Shouldn’t I also die? A knock at the door. A familiar voice from memory. “Mom, Dad, open up! I brought your daughter-in-law home!” I saw Dad, usually so cautious, stand up and accidentally shatter a bowl. Mom, usually so energetic, collapsed into a chair, tears streaming down, repeatedly asking Dad, “Is it him? Is it really him?” Dad almost stumbled to the door, his hands trembling on the doorknob for a long time before he finally twisted it open. The wide-open door revealed a tall man standing outside. I saw him; he was Caleb, my brother, the one I had supposedly killed eight years ago… He had faked his death eight years ago to elope with the woman he loved. **Chapter 2** Dad’s voice was hoarse as he asked, “Caleb, is that really you?” Caleb nodded emphatically, his eyes welling up too. “Dad, it’s really me. I’m back!” The usually reserved Dad wrapped Caleb in a tight hug, his hands forcefully patting Caleb’s back. “He’s alive! He’s warm! Son… your mom and I have waited eight years for you. You’re finally back!”
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