Died On The Day My Mother Gave Birth To Her Third Child

Because of an officer's suspicion, both my parents looked grim when they left the office.

When getting on the car, my father received a phone call.

It was from my homeroom teacher Alice. They didn't communicate much, so my father looked a bit flustered.

My mother turned her head away, not wanting to look at him.

"Hello, I'm calling about Lauren. Has she been in touch with you? I've been unable to reach her."

Alice sounded worried. Over the years, she had taken good care of me, treating me like her own daughter, and she was the only one I felt any semblance of familial love from.

"May I ask if there is something wrong?" asked my father.

"Oh, yes. Today is the deadline for filling out college applications, and the school has reported that Lauren hasn't submitted hers yet. Please remind her to do so quickly; she has good grades and shouldn't waste this opportunity."

My father kept agreeing and then hung up to drive.

"Nancy, call Lauren."

My mother glared at him angrily and said loudly, "What's the use of asking me when you don't even know where your own daughter is?"

"Is she only my daughter?" my father's voice rose sharply. "You've ignored her for years. That incident happened ten years ago—do you still hate her that much?"

His outburst was frantic, but it didn't earn him a word of concession from my mother.

"I don't care, you have to call her!"

This time, my father's tone was firm, and my mother finally looked a bit intimidated.

She opened her contacts and dialed my number.

Unfortunately, after three unanswered calls, she hung up in frustration.

"Who knows where she's gone now?"

She fumed, getting out of the car.

I followed behind, tears streaming down my face.

This time, I was truly dead—my body was right in front of them.

In despair, I thought, just recognize me already. Burn my remains and scatter them.

Anything would be better than being part of this family.

Lost in thought, more tears rolled down my cheeks.

Just then, I heard my father's phone ring.

The sketch artist's panicked voice came through: "Mr. Reed, you need to come back! We've restored the victim's appearance—it's your daughter Lauren!"