My Family Ignored My Final Call

My older sister, Kate, vanished into thin air late at night just to buy me a birthday cake.

Ever since, on my birthday, my dad would lock me in the dark basement, forcing me to gorge on cake until I threw up. And then make me keep eating.

All because they were convinced I was the one who killed Kate.

Until my eighteenth birthday, when a psycho stalked me. With shaking hands, I texted them on SnapChat, begging for help.

Dads voice was dripping with venom and sarcasm when he answered:

"Today is your day of atonement. Get your ass back here right now!"

"A young girl using such a cheap lie to get attention. Remember, Kates body was never found because of you!"

The call went dead. A second later, a heavy iron pipe slammed into the back of my skull.

Within less than an hour, I was tortured to death, my body mutilated beyond recognition before being dumped into the local reservoir.

And when my detective dad arrived at the crime scene, he didn't even recognize my corpse.

Later, Kate returned home, very much alive and heavily pregnant.

When they finally realized that the rotting, mutilated corpse was actually me, they completely broke down.

By the time James rushed to the body dump site in his yellow raincoat, the forensics team had already laid me on the wet ground.

The winter rain was pouring down, accompanied by a freezing wind.

Deputies and K9 units were combing through every inch of the area, searching for any trace of the killer.

The medical examiner walked over to James, his face pale with rage.

"The victim has over a hundred wounds, mostly blanched from the water. But it's clear she was a young woman, and she was brutally tortured before she died."

James followed his gaze. A flicker of disgust and pity crossed his face.

"Bastard... absolute animal! If I catch the sick freak who did this, I'm going to make him pay!"

For the first time in ten years, I felt a spark of my father's pity.

Even if it was as a cold, dead body.

The coroner nodded grimly, promising to do everything to find the killer.

My body was carefully transported to the morgue. James stayed for the autopsy, watching as they cleaned the mud off my face.

The bloated, naked body of a young girl lay on the cold steel table. She was completely unrecognizable, her ears sliced off, and her fingernails ripped out.

Even the veteran medical examiner had to choke back a gag, muttering, "This killer is a psychopath. He wanted to erase her identity completely."

James rubbed his tired face, reviewing the details.

"The skin on her face was extensively mutilated, making visual ID impossible. Judging by dental wear, she's between sixteen and twenty."

"Her ears were cut off, likely to hide a birthmark or surgical scars that could identify her."

"The killer was incredibly cautiouseven her fingernails are gone."

"There's no DNA on the body. The reservoir probably wasn't the primary crime scene. We need more clues."

The coroner sighed and patted James's shoulder.

"We'll run DNA to identify her as soon as possible."

"She looks about the same age as your daughter. It's a tragedy."

Then, remembering something, the coroner looked apologetic.

"James, I know you've been working overtime for a month straight."

"Today is Kylie's birthday. You finally got a night off to spend with your family, and we had to drag you out here. I'm sorry."

At the mention of my name, James's face hardened with instant disgust.

"She doesn't deserve a birthday."

"If I could trade her life for Kate's, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Silence fell over the room. No one dared to breathe.

Those words cut deeper and left me more hopeless than the cold blade the killer used to carve up my face.

I used to think that ten years of emotional abuse, silent treatment, and constant degradation would slowly chip away at James's hatred.

But I was foolishly dreaming.

The coroner pursed his lips. "James, it's been ten years. Kylie was only eight back then. She didn't know any better. How can you still blame her?"

"She's your only child now!"

James's eyes burned red with fury.

"How can I not blame her?! If she hadn't thrown a tantrum for that damn cake, would Kate have ever gone out that night?!"

I had heard that accusation a thousand times over the past decade. It was carved into my very soul.

But every time he brought it up, James was still as hysterical and broken as the first day.

At night, I still had nightmares of James dragging me by my hair to Kate's empty-casket memorial headstone.

He would smash my head against the stone until I bled, forcing me to scream that I was sorry, that I shouldn't have asked for that cake.

Sometimes I wished I had died on my eighth birthday instead.

Then, I wouldn't have had to carry the weight of a murderer on my shoulders, growing up alone in this twisted, broken home.

The coroner took a deep breath. "James, I get your anger. But if something actually happens to Kylie, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

I hovered near James, hoping, begging for just one soft word.

"Regret? Bullshit. The day she dies, I'm opening a bottle of champagne."

The tiny spark of hope in my chest died completely.

James, I am dead. Once you find out, will you finally stop hating me?

Just then, an officer walked in with an evidence bag containing a blood-soaked scarf.

The faded fabric was embroidered with tiny yellow stars, now drenched in dark, crusty blood.

James barely glanced at it before waving his assistant over.

"It's just a generic item with no unique identifiers. Send it to the lab to see if the blood matches the victim."

My eyes widened, and my heart shattered into a million pieces.

He forgot. He completely forgot that this was the gift he gave me on my first day of elementary school.

Back then, James was so busy with work that his marriage with Sarah fell apart.

Sarah found a new lover and abandoned both Kate and me to James.

Because I had been deprived of oxygen in the womb during a difficult birth, I developed much slower than other kids.

In elementary school, I still drooled when I got nervous, and the other kids made fun of me.

Growing up without a mother made me terribly insecure. I was terrified of going to school alone.

Since James had no money to spare for my therapy while raising two kids, he hand-sewed this scarf for me, stitching a bunch of little stars onto the fabric.

Back then, James would kiss my cheek and whisper softly:

"Kylie, this is your special handkerchief. Just use it to wipe your mouth whenever you feel nervous."

"It's okay. If anyone laughs at you, tell me."

"This has my scent on it. Whenever you're scared of being alone, just smell it. Think of it as me being right next to you."

"I'm a cop, Kylie. I will protect you forever."

Now, the man who gave me that warm promise had completely forgotten it, calling it a "generic item."

Oh, James... you just missed your only chance to recognize your own daughter.

Once the paperwork was done, James finally checked his phone. He saw my SnapChat texts begging for help.

His investigator instincts kicked in, and he dialed Sarah.

For a second, I thought they had finally realized something was wrong.

But the moment James spoke, my hopes crashed.

"Did Kylie call you crying again?"

"She went as far as sending me fake texts claiming some freak was stalking her on her way home. Is she really trying to copy what happened to Kate?!"

I didn't lie, James! I was in real danger! The body you just pitied on the autopsy table... that's me! Please, believe me just once!

His brow was furrowed in deep annoyance.

I hoped Sarah would show some concern. After all, ever since Kate disappeared ten years ago, I had never dared to reach out to them.

But Sarah's voice over the speaker was cold and dismissive.

"She's been a pathological liar since she was a toddler, don't you know that?"

"Remember when she faked stomach aches just to skip preschool? I gave you custody. She's your kid, don't bring her drama to me."

"Last time she showed up at my house with some cheap Mother's Day gift, it made things so awkward. My husband was right next to me!"

Because of the difficult labor, Sarah had resented me from the moment I was born.

After Kate's disappearance, that resentment became fully justified in her eyes.

I listened to them take turns listing all my flaws, until James cursed, "She was born to be a curse on this family!"

In the end, neither of them wondered if leaving me out in the dark would lead to any danger.

I curled up in the corner of the room, my soul aching with a hollow pain. My death didn't matter to anyone.

"I need to file a report!" A familiar voice echoed from the lobby.

"My friend Kylie has been missing since last night! Something terrible must have happened to her!"

In front of the front desk, my only friend, Chloe, was frantically explaining the situation to the officer.

She said I had stopped replying to her Snapchats and missed our plans to hang out.

Looking at how panicked she was, my heart squeezed with painful gratitude.

How I wished I could tell her not to cry, but I could only stand beside her as a ghost, weeping silently.

Thank you for caring about me, Chloe.

When the officer asked if she had contacted the family, James walked into the lobby, looking down at Chloe with cold eyes.

"No need to waste your time. I'm Kylie's father."

"She isn't missing. She committed a family offense and is currently grounded in the basement."

"And I don't appreciate her running around with delinquent kids like you."

He dragged out the word 'delinquent'. I watched Chloe's face turn pale, her fingers nervously clutching the hem of her worn-out jacket.

But Chloe wasn't a delinquent. When James forgot to give me lunch money, she would steal bread from her own kitchen to feed me.

When she found out I was using toilet paper because I couldn't afford pads, she used her babysitting money to buy them for me.

Others looked down on her because she was poor, but she was my savior.

Since James was the Homicide Captain, no officer dared to question his words.

My disappearance was swept under the rug simply because a parent claimed I was "grounded."

I watched Chloe leave, feeling utterly helpless. I wanted to follow her.

But my soul was tethered to James, dragged along as he drove home.

A thin layer of dust covered the dining table. The decorative flowers had long withered.

James brought in takeout boxes and lined them up.

A year after Kate vanished, on this very day, I had mistakenly thought these lavish takeout meals were for my birthday.

While James was in the restroom, I couldn't resist sneaking a bite of my favorite seafood pasta.

But James caught me. He marched over, his face twisted in rage, and choked me against the wall.

"Why are you so greedy?! Is this for you? A leech like you doesn't deserve this!"

My face turned purple as I gasped for air.

"I'm sorry... I thought it was for my birthday. I'll spit it out... I'll spit it out right now..."

A sharp piece of seafood shell got stuck in my throat. I swallowed hard, tears streaming down my face.

When I was on the verge of passing out, James finally let go, pointing at me and snarling, "You like eating so much? I'll make sure you eat till you die!"

Under his murderous gaze, I was forced to stuff three eight-inch cream cakes down my throat until I vomited all over the floor.

I lay shivering on the floor, weak and exhausted. James grabbed my hair, dragging me to the bathroom.

"Kylie, you listen to me. It's because of your greedy stomach, because you demanded that stupid birthday cake, that Kate is gone!"

"Don't play victim with me. Grab the mop and clean this up!"

James, I wasn't playing victim. I was hurting. My throat, my stomach, my entire heart... everything was in agonizing pain.

I wiped my tears and dragged the mop across the floor.

I forced myself to keep moving, watching James place the delicious food in Kate's untouched room, whispering to her empty bed:

"Kate, Kylie is such a disappointment. I should have never spoiled her. I used to yell at you for eating junk food, but look, I bought all your favorites today. If you want anything else, just tell me in my dreams. I miss you so much."

I couldn't bear to hear any more. I shrank back into the bathroom, trying to suppress my sobs.

The laughter of other families downstairs drifted through the window.

I pressed my face against the small window glass, trying to hear it clearly, pretending I was the girl in those stories, enjoying the perfect family warmth.

But I was the curse who killed Kate. No miracles would ever happen to me.

But James, tell me what I have to do for you to forgive me. I promise I'll be good...

The next morning, I woke up with a burning fever. At nine years old, I had no money and didn't know how to go to the hospital.

Terrified, I took some cash from James's nightstand and stumbled to the nearest pharmacy.

The pharmacist took one look at my flushed face and burning forehead and immediately carried me to the community clinic for an IV drip. They asked for my father's number.

As the needle pierced my skin, I foolishly thought, This time, James won't say I'm faking it, right?

Sure enough, James rushed in, clutching his briefcase.

Hope flared in my chest. I called out sweetly, "Dad!"

I secretly thought, If he just pat my head, or gently blow on the needle mark, I would forgive him for everything.

But what James gave me was a harsh slap across the face.

"You thief! You actually stole my money! You got scared of being caught, so you faked an illness, didn't you?"

"I'm a police officer, and I raised a thief!"

The IV needle was ripped out of my vein. I curled up, crying hysterically, begging him to believe me.

Hearing that James was a cop, the nurses and onlookers stopped defending me. Their sympathetic looks turned into disgust and disapproval.

Parents nearby whispered to their kids, telling them never to end up like me.

I didn't steal that money to be bad. I wasn't a thief. I was just a sick child who wanted to live.

But until the day I died, I never became a child worthy of love.

I watched James fill Kates empty bowl with food, and silently pack her closet with the latest fashion trends.

This haunting routine had repeated every single day for ten years.

I was lost in these painful memories when a knock on the front door snapped me back.

A voice from the past echoed through the hallway.

"James! Open up! I'm back, and I brought your grandbaby!"

I watched James, always so stoic and calm, trip over his own dining chair as he scrambled to his feet.

He stumbled to the door, his hand trembling on the doorknob for a long time before finally twisting it open.

The door swung wide, revealing the woman standing outside. It was Katethe sister I supposedly "killed" ten years ago.