Dead on His First Love's Death Anniversary

Connor, who used to occasionally say sweet nothings into my ear, was staring at me with a terrifying expression. After a long time, he angrily threw me on the bed. "Why aren't you the one who died? Why?"

With that said, he slammed the door and left. He did not even realize that I had gone missing two days ago.

'Connor, I'm really dead now. You must be elated,' I wondered as I smiled mockingly.

Donald froze and tried to say something, but Connor interrupted, "Show me the body. We'll do the autopsy now!"

Connor was the most famous forensic doctor in the city and had helped the police solve numerous major criminal investigations.

It had been two days and two nights from the moment he walked in the door. My body was finally pieced together, with only my head missing.

A trace of reluctance flashed across Connor's face. "The deceased is about 18-25 years old and was electrocuted before death. She has multiple fractures and several large and small knife wounds.

"Besides that, I found a gestational sac in her uterine cavity. She was probably one-month pregnant. Her pelvis is shattered... The murderer probably knew she was pregnant and tried their best to hit her in the stomach with a blunt object. If we can find the head, we should be able to identify the deceased."

Donald yelled, "What an animal! What grudge did they have against a pregnant woman that they would treat her like this?"

Connor rubbed between his temples, a little tired. "Besides that, they fed her a lethal dose of digoxin. The deceased was conscious while suffering all that."

All the police present were shocked by that statement. Such an inhuman revenge method was close to being devoid of humanity!

I felt a wave of bitterness.

Connor was really good.

During the 24 hours I was tortured, I could feel every wound on my body. That person took out a pregnancy test report from my bag and broke my hands and feet. After confirming that I could not fight back, he picked up a hammer and repeatedly hit my stomach.

That day, the abandoned warehouse was filled with my screams. He hit me a full 223 times.

I had no power to fight back and could only watch the blood ooze from my lower body before I finally died of excessive blood loss.

After confirming that I was dead, he picked up a saw beside him and sawed off my head. The sound of flesh and bones being torn apart by the saw teeth was sharp and piercing. The ground was covered with my blood.

'Connor, I was in so much pain,' I thought.

However, Connor touched my thigh the next second, and my breathing paused instantly.

'Is he going to find out?' I wondered.

I had a black birthmark on the inside of my thigh. He once thought it was ugly and asked me to get it removed with laser treatment.

Connor said, "There seems to be a burn here. The deceased's leg may have been burned by something."

I smiled bitterly before remembering that the man had ignored my screams and pressed a burning knife on it to cover up my identity. Now, there was nothing there except the burn marks.

The police present frowned. There had not been such a brutal tragedy in a long time.

Five years ago, there was a serial rape and murder case that targeted young women.

Connor had completed his internship and obtained a forensic license at the time.

To ensure my safety and find the murderer as soon as possible, he once locked himself in the autopsy room to dissect the body. He did not eat or drink for three days and three nights.

That was one of the few memories I had of him being nice to me.

Connor suddenly found a small piece of cloth of an unclear colour stuck in my hand. He picked it up with tissue forceps, put it in a container, handed it to Donald, and said solemnly, "Check if there's any DNA remaining on it."