Dad Says Sorry to Me

My name was Rosa Wise. When I was stabbed more than 300 times by a mob to death, my father was transferring the house that my mother left me to my sister, Chelsea Wise.

Because he thought I, the person who got my mom killed, didn't deserve to live in her house.

He didn't answer any of my two dozen calls for help.

Later, as a righteous criminal police, he was filled with indignation when he saw my disfigured body.

He swore that he would bring the mob to justice.

When someone reminded him that I had lost contact, he sneered and said I deliberately disappeared because the house was transferred.

After the DNA test results of my autopsy came out, he completely collapsed.

"Rosa, I'm sorry... It's all my fault..."

***

The first policeman who saw my body was scared out of his wits.

Probably it was because I was killed in such a horrifying way. After all, I was stabbed more than 300 times.

My soul floated in the air.

Looking at his pale face, I felt a bit embarrassed.

Soon, my father showed up.

He was a criminal police for years, but when he saw my body, he still couldn't help but clench his fists and curse, saying that the mob was a monster.

My body was a terrible mess, beyond recognition.

"The deceased should be around twenty years old, just in the prime of youth. So pitiful..."

The forensic doctor beside me frowned and sighed, "What kind of hatred could possibly make someone do this?"

I stood beside my father, forcing a bitter smile.

Indeed. What kind of hatred could possibly make someone do this?

Even I didn't dare to look at my body again. I felt that if I did so, I'd relive the pain.

My father gritted his teeth and said, "Her parents must have gone through a lot raising her to 20. I will not stand down until the killer is brought to justice!"

Since the body had started to decompose and emit a foul smell, the forensic doctor chose to conduct a preliminary autopsy on the spot.

My father's colleague, Arnold Heptinstall, stood aside and lamented, "I feel so sorry for her. She looks about the same age as Rosa..."

Arnold suddenly realized something. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen her for a few days. You two haven't reconciled yet?"

"Don't mention her! She's not my daughter!"

My father glanced at my body and seemed to remember me, instantly showing a look of disgust.

Arnold frowned. "But she is. You should show more care for her. If something happens, you will regret it."

My father sneered, "What can happen to her? She's just so petty. A few days ago, we had a fight because of the house transfer. She's so money-minded and selfish. I bet she's cursing and swearing like a shrew outside. Who would dare to mess with her?"

As I listened to my father's words, my heart ached.

So, this is what he thinks of me.

The house is the only hope left by my mother, which carries all the memories of our family of three in the past.

How can I bear to give it away?

If Dad wants it, he can take it. But why did he give it to Chelsea?

Thinking about it, I laughed at myself and wondered what expression he would have when he found out that the corpse in front of him was me.

He'd probably feel relieved.

Or he'd feel that even though I was punished like this, he still hated my guts.

Arnold wanted to say something else, but my father walked forward coldly and said, "Focus on the case. Don't mind that damn girl."