Chapter 3

Mom quickly stripped off her rubber gloves, hurried out into the hallway, and answered. Her voice turned so sweet and tender it could melt ice. "Sweetie, what is it?"

From the other end came Rachel's delicate, cutesy voice. "Mom, are we still getting dinner tonight?"

"Tonight?" Mom hesitated, then quickly softened. "Of course. Mom will definitely be there."

"You're the best, Mom!" Rachel chirped. "I wonder if Emma can make it, though. I really hope she comes. I've tried so hard for so long to make her feel like part of the family. I know she hates me... after all, I took you and Dad away from her for all those years..."

At the mention of Dad, Mom's face darkened instantly. "Rachel, forget about her. She's a hopeless stray. If it weren't for her, your father would still be alive right now. She doesn't deserve to be my daughter. You will always be my precious baby."

Rachel let out a soft, sweet giggle. "Uncle Miller called me today and told me to stay safe outside. You should remind Emma, too."

Mom frowned dismissively. "Just look out for yourself. Leave her be."

Inside the precinct's briefing room, the officers sat gathered around the long table. The moment Mom announced the autopsy results in a heavy, trembling voice, the entire room plunged into dead silence.

Shock and grief were plastered across every single face.

Because what had actually been done to me was infinitely more depraved than anything they had imagined.

Both of my eyeballs had been brutally gouged out, leaving behind two hollow, black voids. My head was barely hanging onto my neck by a thin strip of shredded flesh. Not a single patch of skin on my entire body was intact; splinters of crushed bone were mashed into sticky, ruined muscle. Just hearing it described sent chills running down their spines.

The case was colossal. Public outrage was surging like a tidal wave online, impossible to contain.

The higher-ups were breathing down their necks, demanding an immediate arrest, loading an unbearable weight onto everyone's shoulders. The atmosphere in the room turned suffocatingly grim.

Once the debrief ended, Detective Miller lit a cigarette, staring at Mom with furrowed brows. "I called Emma this morning, but she didn't pick up," he said in a low voice. "She hasn't replied to my SnapChat texts either. Isn't she home?"

Mom let out a cold, mocking sneer. "She has legs of her own. I couldn't control her if I tried. She's probably playing her little runaway game again. It's hardly the first time."

She was right. It wasn't the first time I had gone missing.

The last time was a few years ago back in high school. Rachel had locked me inside an abandoned gym storage shed.

It was located in an isolated corner of the campus where nobody ever walked. I screamed for help until my throat bled, but the only answer I got was my own hollow echo and dead silence.

I was locked in there the entire night, shivering in the dark, until the elderly morning security guard finally found me the next day.

When I dragged myself home, Mom and Rachel were sitting comfortably at the dining table, eating breakfast.

Seeing me covered in filth and bruises, Mom blew up into an uncontrollable rage. She grabbed a broom and began beating me relentlessly.

I tried to choke out an explanation, but she wouldn't hear a single word. She just kept swinging the broom over and over again.

Back then, Grandma was still alive.

I ran to Grandma's house, sobbing as I told her everything that had happened.

Furious, Grandma dragged me back home, determined to demand justice for me.

Yet when Mom saw us, she merely said with icy indifference, "Rachel didn't do it on purpose."

Grandma unleashed a furious tirade, screaming curses at Mom's face.

Only then did Mom finally force Rachel to step out and offer a half-hearted apology.

My thoughts snapped back to the present.

Hearing Mom's dismissive brush-off, Miller let out a heavy sigh.

He didn't push any further. He just quietly finished his cigarette and crushed the butt viciously into the ashtray.

That afternoon, a breakthrough arrived.

The police tracked down the primary crime scene.