My parents ran a slaughterhouse and had worked diligently and selflessly their entire lives. However, these two honest people, pushed someone into a shredder without hesitation, to help their adopted son who had committed murder erasing evidence. They blamed me for not selling the house to pay off my brother's debts. If we hadn't been pushed to such a desperate situation, my brother would never have ended up like this.

But they didn’t know that the girl they had cruelly shredded beyond recognition was their own daughter. When they learned the truth, they went insane.

——

I died on the day my boyfriend was planning to propose to me. It was also my birthday. I had just returned from a business trip and received a call from my brother as soon as I got off the plane, saying he wanted to talk to me in person. I replied curtly, "If it’s still about the house, there’s nothing to discuss. I won’t agree."

"Zora, Mom and Dad treated me like their own son; I’m your brother!" he said harshly. "Even if I’m adopted, all the family property belongs to me, including the house you’re living in!"

“That’s a house I bought myself. It has nothing to do with you!” I yelled angrily. “Mom and Dad used all their savings to help you pay off your debts!”

“That’s what they should do!”

My brother was a gambling addict. He sold off the family’s property to fund his gambling, forcing my sister-in-law to divorce him. Even then, he showed no remorse and set his sights on my house, wanting me to sell it to pay off his debts. He and I had fought about this many times, even causing a scene at my workplace.

I was extremely angry at his comments and was about to hang up the phone when he suddenly said, "Today is your birthday. I’m stuck at a friend’s place in the suburbs, but I bought you a gift. Come and pick it up."

I was surprised that he still remembered my birthday. Feeling a bit guilty for my unfounded accusations, I hurried to the address he had given me. It turned out to be an abandoned warehouse. Before stepping in, I hesitated but then laughed at myself for being too suspicious.

However, I overlooked the fact that he was not only my brother but also a ruthless gambler. The "birthday gift" he had for me was a hammer, which he intended to use to strike me without mercy.

The piercing pain made me shiver. Driven by my will to survive, I desperately crawled towards the door, but was pulled back by my hair. Again and again, until I became silent.

As my soul ascended, I looked at my disfigured body, trying to reach out, but unable to penetrate.

I died, brutally murdered by my brother whom I had lived with for 20 years.

This kind of plot only appeared in TV dramas, but now it happened to me.

I angrily confronted him, but he was completely oblivious. Panting, he stopped and muttered, "You forced me. It's all your fault. Zora, as long as you're dead, everything in the house will be mine!"

He seemed to have made up his mind and he aimed the hammer at my face and hit it hard.

I watched him hit me in the face again and again until I was unrecognizable. He then hurriedly put me into a sack and drove to my parents' slaughterhouse.

He killed me and he dared to take me home?

I couldn't believe it and at the same time I felt a little uneasy.

It was already dark. He dragged me into the house in a sack and knelt down immediately, saying in a trembling voice, "Dad, Mom, I’ve killed someone."

My mom was so scared that she fell to the ground and cried. She scolded him for being useless and only knowing how to cause trouble for the family.

My dad slapped my brother in the face and shouted angrily, "It's okay to gamble, but you, a beast, actually dared to kill someone?!"

My mom rushed over to stop him, "Why did you hit him? Think about what to do now!"

"What else can I do!"

My father, shaking with anger, said, "Call the police! Have him turn himself in!"

My mother, wide-eyed and shouting, retorted, "Are you trying to kill us? Mason is still so young. Are you trying to ruin his life?"

My brother, kneeling on the ground, cried bitterly, "Dad, Mom, I don't want to go to prison. I don't want to die."

He continued, "Zora is just a girl; she’ll get married eventually. She won’t even sell her house to help us. She’s ungrateful! Now I'm in this situation and she doesn't care. What will you do when you're old and can’t work anymore? Can you rely on her then?"

I was shaking with anger at his words. Since I started working, I had been sending money home every month. From big things like furniture and appliances to small things like sending and receiving packages, I was almost always the one taking care of it. Later, because he frequently asked for money due to gambling, my dad stopped accepting my money and told me to save it for myself.

How did it turn into me not caring about the family in his words? My mom went up to pull him away, crying uncontrollably and repeatedly saying, "Mason is my son. No one can take him away from me. If you make him turn himself in, you’re pushing him into a fire pit!"

My dad was furious, shouting, "It’s all because you spoiled him! He’s committed murder!"

"Don’t you know what kind of child he is?" My mom cried out in despair, "If we don’t take responsibility as parents, his whole life is ruined!"

My dad fell silent. In the quiet, the only sound was my mom’s sobs. After a long time, my dad finally spoke, his voice trembling. "Stop crying. Drag the body into the workroom."

I was stunned, feeling like I had fallen into an ice cave. The workroom in the slaughterhouse was where animal carcasses were processed. Was my dad planning to handle me in the same way?

My parents had always been hardworking and honest, never trying to take advantage of others and even returned extra change from vendors. Yet these tw upright people, to cover up their murderous son's crime, heartlessly destroyed the evidence.

I screamed desperately for my parents, pleading for them to seek justice for me, saying that the person killed by my brother was me. But it was all in vain. They worked together to drag me into the workroom. As soon as they opened the sack, my mother covered her nose and ran away, vomiting uncontrollably.

My father angrily shouted, "Who is this person! What kind of grudge makes you commit such a terrible act!"

My brother, avoiding eye contact, replied vaguely, "It's a creditor."

I coldly laughed with anger. My assets after death were to be inherited by my parents, so ultimately, he was after my house. For the sake of the house, he could go so far as to kill me and even coerce my parents into helping him cover up the crime.

As they pulled me out of the sack, my father frowned and said, "It's a girl?"

"Dad, don't ask any more questions. Just get rid of her."

My brother urged, "If you delay any longer, someone will find out."

They brutally dismembered me and threw me into the crusher bit by bit.

I have a birthmark on my calf. My dad saw it, wiped it with his hand and murmured, "Your sister has such a birthmark too."

My brother was shocked and my mom scolded him, "Don't say such unlucky words! Today is your daughter's birthday!"

They actually remembered my birthday.

I felt a deep sorrow as I watched myself mixed in with the bones and flesh of cattle and sheep, being treated as garbage.

The blood on the ground was washed away by water and my clothes were burned. They wiped out my traces one by one as if they were finishing their work, leaving nothing behind.

If they knew that the body they were destroying so cruelly was the body of their own daughter, I wondered what they would think.

After doing all this, my mother was still in shock and hurriedly knelt in front of the Jesus statue and kowtowed continuously.

My dad sat slumped to the side, his hand trembling as he lit a cigarette. After a long pause, he sighed, "We've sinned... half a lifetime of doing no wrong and now the three of us will go to hell when we die."

My mom, crying, shouted back, "Hell it is then! That's still better than watching Mason walk to his death!"

"Now, I can only hope the heavens won't hold it against Zora. She didn’t know, she’s innocent."

My dad stood up and knelt before the cross, bowing his head in prayer. "Lord, please forgive us. It’s all our fault. Don’t let my daughter suffer for our sins."

He had never been religious, but now, in desperation, he prayed fervently, terrified that I might face divine punishment because of what they'd done.

But, Dad, the one you so cruelly dismembered and destroyed—was me.