Died on the Anniversary of My Father's Death

My birthday and my dad Jeremy Portman's death anniversary fall on the same day.

After Jeremy's passing, my birthday ceased to hold any joy.

When the killer held a gun to my head, I was forced to call my mother, Natalie Portman.

"Natalie, today is my eighteenth birthday. Can you come celebrate with me?"

However, all I received was a torrent of hateful curses devoid of any warmth.

"You're the reason your dad's dead, and now you've got the nerve to ask me to celebrate your birthday? I wish it was you instead of him!"

Before the call abruptly ended, I heard her celebrating her adopted daughter's coming-of-age ceremony.

Later that night, police discovered numerous body parts in the trunk of an inspected patrol car.

Natalie was urgently summoned back to piece together the remains over two days and nights. However, she didn't realize that the person who died was actually her most hated daughter.

.....

Upon her arrival at the station in the early hours, Natalie anxiously inquired about the situation, "Where was the body found? How long has the person been dead?"

Clive Owen, noticing cake crumbs still clinging to her, said with an apology, "We just found the body; the patrol car was only returned this afternoon. The person who brought it in was knocked out and dumped in a ditch. The surveillance cameras were conveniently under maintenance, providing no leads.

"So blatantly bringing the body to the police station is a massive challenge to the authorities!"

The killer's audacity had become a thorn deeply embedded in everyone's hearts.

"Apologies for interrupting Cameron's birthday celebration."

At the mention of my name, Natalie's gaze turned cold and disdainful.

"Who celebrates a birthday for a murderer? Don't mention her in front of me!"

I stood by, my heart shattered and numb.

Since Jeremy's death, I had lost Natalie as well.

She moved to a different house and adopted a new daughter, the same age as me.

Before my body was found, Natalie was celebrating her adopted daughter's eighteenth birthday.

She refused to show me any warmth, viewing me as a criminal, yet she could celebrate with her adopted daughter on Jeremy's death anniversary, a girl unrelated by blood.

If she knew it was me, the one who disrupted her carefully planned celebration, perhaps she would hate me even more.

Yet, deep down, I still hoped Natalie would forgive me upon witnessing my death.

Clive hesitated, wanting to say something, but Natalie interrupted, demanding, "Show me the body. We need to perform the autopsy right away!"

As the city's most formidable female forensic pathologist, she and Jeremy had solved numerous major criminal cases together.

For two full days and nights, she meticulously pieced together my body, except for the missing right hand.

Natalie sighed as she examined the reconstructed corpse.

"The deceased was likely just of legal age, malnourished with small bones, multiple fractures throughout the body, all fatal wounds. Cigarette butts stuffed in every joint of the bones... The missing right hand may hold clues to the killer."

Clive couldn't contain his anger, cursing, "Damn animals! Is this what humanity has come to?"

Natalie, weary-eyed, added, "The victim was conscious during these torturous acts, some wounds clearly self-inflicted out of unbearable pain."

The police present were all shocked by the inhumane brutality of the revenge tactics.

A bitter taste lingered in my heart.

Natalie was truly formidable.

For eight long hours, I could feel every injury on my body distinctly.

As I watched the killer distract the authorities by placing burning cigarette butts in my exposed joints, then using a blunt object to simulate misleading blunt force trauma, my heartbeat finally ceased.

She then promptly dragged me into a vat filled with sulfuric acid.

My skin and bones corroded, emitting thick white smoke.

I thought, "Mom, it hurts so much..."

Yet, in the next moment, Natalie's hand gently touched my neck.

I held my breath, thinking, "Has she discovered that?"

There was a necklace Jeremy gave me before his death. I had never taken it off.

"It seems there's an abrasion here; the deceased was likely strangled with a thin rope," she stated.

As I recalled, a bitter smile formed on my face.

The necklace had been torn off long ago. Now, apart from the marks of the blade and the corrosive effects of sulfuric acid, there was nothing else on my neck.

The officers present furrowed their brows tightly.

This should be the second gruesome case in a decade.

The previous psychotic killer had been publicly shot down a decade ago, yet the public outrage took a full year to subside.

I still remember the panic that the killer caused.

He had taken the lives of over a hundred children in a spree. At that time, for my safety, Jeremy was out on a case, so Natalie took leave to stay with me at home.

That was my last warm memory of Natalie.

Natalie picked up the cigarette butt and handed it to Clive, saying seriously, "Check if there's any DNA residue on it. It's hard to tell if bodily fluids might have washed it away, but it's our only lead."

She turned to look the other way.

"Also, see if anyone has reported a missing girl recently. If a girl matching the victim's description has been reported missing, we need to pay extra attention.

"The victim's blood samples have been sent for analysis, but the results will likely take at least three days to come back."