When I was being abused, Dad was celebrating the birthday of Yuki Jones, my elder sister.

Before I died, I tried my best to find my phone and called Dad, but he hung up. Then, I called him three times before he picked up.

Before I could speak, I heard Dad's disgusted and angry voice. "Don't you know that today is Yuki's birthday? Stop calling. I'm busy!"

I suddenly felt hopeless. After the call was hung up, I stopped struggling, and the criminal cut me with the knife.

Early the next morning, Dad was asked to go to the police station.

There was an extremely cruel murder case, and he needed to perform an autopsy.

***

The murderer chopped my corpse into several pieces. Then, he put them into a black garbage bag and threw it next to a trash can. The bag was found by a boy walking his dog. His dog tore the bag, and then it held my hand in its mouth to show the boy off.

The boy was so scared that he collapsed on the ground.

He called the police, and the police quickly arrived at the scene and set up a cordon.

Several police officers searched all nearby trash cans but couldn't find my head. They had to take the body parts back to the police station to piece them together.

I was floating in the air and saw Dad get dressed, take my body parts out of the plastic bag, and start putting them together.

During the piecing together process, Max, who was Dad's apprentice, ran away several times with his mouth covered because he couldn't stand this bloody scene.

Dad also frowned and remained silent the whole time.

The corpse was completely pieced together, with all parts remaining except the head.

"Judging from the marks on the victim's body, the criminal must have intended to torture the victim to death..."

"The nails were all pulled out one by one. This must be a revenge killing..."

"What hatred or grudge made the criminal commit such a cruel act..."

"It's too cruel..."

The experienced police officers all frowned at my corpse, and the younger ones didn't even dare to look directly at it.

Dad took off his forensic suit, washed his hands, and then stood in front of my corpse. He frowned all the time.

I was floating in the air and looking at Dad's expression. "You must have recognized me. After all, although my corpse is covered with wounds, the birthmark on my thigh is clear and conspicuous."

In the afternoon, Max handed my information to Dad.

"The victim was a female, aged between 20 and 25. She died of excessive blood loss. Judging from the wounds on the corpse, the murder weapon should be a fruit knife commonly used in the kitchen. There are about 300 cuts on the corpse, and the fatal cuts are on the wrists of both hands. The head was neatly cut, and it should have been cut off after the victim's death. It hasn't been found yet."

Dad flipped through the documents page by page and cursed softly, "Beast!"

After confirming that the information was correct, Dad gave it to Mr. Smith, the police captain.

"The criminal dumped the corpse next to a trash can. It's evident that he isn't afraid of the police finding it. Such an extreme case hasn't happened in the past ten years.

"Have you found out the identity of the woman?" Mr. Smith asked Dad.

Dad shook his head. "Not yet." After a pause, he continued. "Hasn't the head been found yet? If it's found, we'll confirm the identity quickly."

Mr. Smith also shook his head. "The criminal were strange. He left all the body parts next to the trash can, but took the head away. Was his purpose to prevent us from finding the identity of the deceased?"

I was a little disappointed. The birthmark on my thigh was obvious, but Dad didn't recognize me.

He always used that birthmark to blame me, "It was because of your ugly birthmark that your mom died! No other girl would have such a big birthmark! This is the root of trouble!"

Mr. Smith sighed. "How could a young girl have enemies?"

Yes, I was only 23 years old and hadn't even graduated from college yet! But I was dead.

Mr. Smith looked at my corpse' photos. Then, he picked up the photo of my thigh and noticed there was a birthmark. "This girl actually has a birthmark. It's large."

Dad leaned over and saw the birthmark on my thigh. He sighed. I thought Dad remembered me. So, I was excited and wanted to shout, "Yes, that's a birthmark. It's my birthmark. Dad, that's me!"

But Dad just sighed and said, "Yes, there is a large birthmark on the thigh." Then, he muttered, "It's as the same as Winnie's."

Mr. Smith was excited. He pointed at the birthmark. "By investigating from this birthmark, we should be able to confirm the identity of the deceased soon."