The Curse of Death

At long last, Evan moved. He slammed his fist against the autopsy table, causing a loud bang to sound. That proved just how furious he was right now.

Pointing along the edge of my neck, he growled, "The killer is brutal. Look at these wounds here. These are clearly bite marks left by a canine. The killer not only killed and dismembered the victim but also allowed an animal to bite the victim. We must do a thorough examination and apprehend the killer as soon as possible!"

Watching Evan being so engrossed in his work, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. As expected, he didn't recognize me.

Well, it made sense. In our two years of marriage, we'd been intimate less than five times.

Whenever I tried to initiate something, he would say he was tired before turning his back toward me and falling fast asleep.

How could I possibly be delusional enough to expect him to recognize my body? To him, my body was no different from that of a stranger.

With much concentration, Evan pieced my body parts back together before inspecting all of my injuries. While conducting the autopsy, he listed out his findings to the medical scribe.

"Based on the condition of the body, the victim is a female, approximately 28 years old. All ten of her fingertips have been severed, making it impossible to identify her through her fingerprints. Judging by the wounds, her fingertips had been severed while she was still alive and conscious."

Evan had to pause and take a deep breath. The police officers also sighed, finding it hard to stomach the information.

There was no doubt that Evan was the best medical examiner. He was right. After he ended the call, my abductors started plotting how they were going to kill me. To avoid allowing the authorities to identify me, they stomped on my palms and used an ax to chop off my fingertips, one by one.

I was dead now. I shouldn't be able to feel any pain. Yet when I recalled what it'd been like when they severed my fingertips, the memory of the pain made me tremble anyway.

Evan proceeded down the body, and when he got to my lower half, he was shocked beyond words.

"Based on the tears found on the victim's lower body, she was raped over 30 times, and the abuse lasted over ten hours. Those bastards!"

Once again, Evan lost control over his emotions and roared with anger.

This was probably his first time losing his temper at work. He, an expert medical examiner, was typically known for his gentle and sophisticated demeanor. But now, even he was deeply shaken by the tragic state of the body.

As I watched his reaction, all I could do was let out a bitter laugh.

Would he still be this outraged if he knew the body was mine?

After all, during that final call before my death, he'd casually suggested that I could drop dead somewhere.

Evan composed himself and carried on with the autopsy. All of a sudden, he became startled and reached out to gently caress my calf.

Tensing up, I tightened my fists. Was he finally going to realize it was me?