While the killer was stabbing me left and right, my dad was stitching up a teddy bear for my sister, one careful stitch at a time.

He ignored every desperate call I made for help.

"Super busy right now, don't bug me unless it's big."

Days later, Dad, a forensic pathologist, was teaching his students using a female cadaver he dissected himself.

"The victim faced brutal treatment before her death, clinging fiercely to life until her last breath."

He opened up the cadaver and then sewed it back together, allowing each student to practice from sunrise to sunset.

He identified every injury on the body but failed to realize, this body was me—his own daughter he resented so deeply.

1

They found my corpse in a sewer shaft.

A badly decomposed body reeking of death.

The police, along with my Dad, the seasoned medical examiner, rushed to the scene.

Upon arrival, Dad expertly handled my battered body, instructing his students to take down vital scene details.

"The deceased is a young female, her face destroyed by sulfuric acid. We'll need to gather DNA to identify her."

After assessing the situation, Dad took off his gloves.

"Take her back for an autopsy."

His student nodded, moving to place me in a body bag, but the sight of my acid-disfigured face nearly made him sick.

"Ugh..."

Dad shook his head, "Can't stomach it?"

The student excused himself to vomit then returned pale-faced. "It's not about handling it, sir, it's just that this lady's fate was too harsh..."

Dad glanced again at the body bag holding me, nodding dispassionately, "Yeah, it's a tough one."

Years as a medical examiner had numbed him to the horrors of death.

But Dad, if you knew it was me, would you still be so composed?

I watched them transport my body back to the police station and onto the autopsy table.

Hovering above, I silently observed Dad as he donned a mask and gloves, preparing meticulously for the autopsy.

Disinfecting, arranging, bowing, incising.

The cold scalpel sliced through my body, causing even my soul to shudder involuntarily.

It didn't hurt.

Compared to the thirty-seven stab wounds on my body, this was nothing.

Dad's movements were precise and skilled as he examined and noted each wound.

He held my head, examining my face closely.

Suddenly, he sensed something was amiss, his finger brushed my ear.

I have a mole under my earlobe; he used to know about it.

Dad touched the mole with his hand, and as he pondered, the students entered.

Dad quickly turned around, pushing the thought aside.

He removed his gloves and told the students, "This corpse is quite instructive, it's rare to see one this decomposed. Have a go yourselves."

The students crowded around me, the harsh light from the autopsy table reflecting the cold steel of several scalpels.

I no longer felt any pain and could only watch as Dad walked out of the autopsy room step by step.

So close, Dad.

You were so close to discovering that the body you were dissecting was your own daughter.

When the autopsy report was released, even the seasoned police officers furrowed their brows.

The report stated clearly: [The deceased was a young woman under twenty-five, who had suffered severe abuse and multiple fractures before death.]

Although stabbed thirty-seven times, none of the wounds were fatal; the actual cause of death was suffocation.

After death, her face was disfigured with concentrated sulfuric acid, and all her fingerprints were erased.

The head of the criminal investigation team, Tony Smith, closed the autopsy report with a mix of sorrow and anger, "Son of a bitch, absolutely inhuman!"

Dad's expression remained neutral, his years in the field having cultivated a remarkably calm demeanor.

"Our first order of business is to find the killer and identify the victim as soon as possible," he stated.

Captain Smith, noticing a pink thread on Dad's sleeve, queried, "Where did this come from?"

A soft smile briefly crossed Dad's typically stern face as he pocketed the thread.

"Sophie's teddy bear lost an ear, and I sewed it back on recently."

Tony looked astonished. "Your hands that dissect corpses can also mend toys?"

Dad shot him a wry look. "Stitching is my specialty, you know that."

Tony smirked. "Sophie's getting old for a teddy bear, isn't she?"

Dad stood up, his tone firm, "No matter her age, she's still my little girl. And she's been without her mother since she was young. I owe it to her to make up for that loss in any way I can."

As he was about to leave, Tony caught his arm.

"Harper, you've got two daughters. You're great with Sophie, why not show Emily some of that kindness?"

At the mention of my name, Dad bristled and pulled away. "Don't bring her up! She's no daughter of mine!"

Tony sighed, "I know you're still torn up about your wife's death, but Emily was just a little girl back then, it wasn't her fault..."

"Enough!" Dad cut him off sharply, "Intentional or not, wasn't it all her doing? She killed her mother! She's wrecked Sophie's life, she's been nothing but a curse on our family, I will never forgive her!"

Dad stormed out, leaving Tony behind. They had been comrades for years, but because of me, he showed no mercy.

My ghostly form crouched on the ground curled up.

Oh, how I wished I could tell him - I didn't kill Mom...

Unable to leave this world just yet, I followed Dad all the way home.

Upon arrival, I saw Sophie rushing toward Dad with her pink teddy bear, beaming with joy.

"Dad, did you fix this bear?"

He caught her in a steady embrace, his smile warm and tender.

"I did fix it. Do you like it?"

"I love it! You're the best, Dad!"

They sat down to a cozy dinner, father and daughter, exuding warmth and affection.

Sophie stirred her food and asked nonchalantly, "I haven't seen my sister in a while. I wonder what she's up to now?"

Dad's smile turned cold instantly. "Focus on your meal. Why bring her up? Even if she's dead outside, it's none of our concern."

Sophie, trying to soften him, replied, "Dad, you shouldn't talk like that... she's still my sister."

Dad slammed his forks down, "She doesn't deserve to be your sister! You are my only daughter."

Sophie wrapped her arms around Dad, patting him soothingly.

"Okay, Dad has only one daughter, and that's me. I won't bring her up again."

Dad finally calmed down and nodded in agreement.

Sophie glanced at the family photo on the wall. My face was covered by a sticker in that photo.

She smiled slightly to herself, content that Dad had affirmed her place.

Only if I vanished from this world could she live without a shadow over her.