The Day My Boyfriend was About to Propose to Me, I Died

Colin and I had been together for five years, from our school days to the real world. Our relationship was always very strong. He had mentioned earlier this year that he would have a surprise for my birthday and I never expected it would be a proposal.

He waited for me with great anticipation, but instead, I was brutally murdered by my own brother and my family covered up the crime. Was heaven playing a cruel joke on me?

My chest felt like it had been struck with a chisel, sending shivers of pain through me, yet I couldn't shed a single tear. I watched Colin, his face full of remorse, as he blamed himself for not coming to get me. His eyes were red and he clutched his hair, crying in anguish.

My parents kept comforting him and told him not to worry.

They were always considerate and were the parents who raised me, but their hands were stained with blood and they were also the murderers who brutally dismembered me.

The amulet for peace around my neck was stained with blood, a talisman my father had obtained for me, now discarded by him. What should have been a touching scene left me feeling itchy all over.

After searching all night without success, they called the police at dawn.

Colin urged my parents to go home and rest while he stayed with the police to continue the search.

My father kept muttering, "It's all retribution, it's all retribution."

My mother tried to reassure him, but she was also trembling, saying that everything would be fine.

"No, no, this isn't right!" My father, pale-faced, rushed into my brother's room. "Did you see your sister yesterday?"

My brother, flustered, hastily blocked the search page on his computer and impatiently replied, "I haven't been in touch with her for days."

"Your sister is missing." My mother wiped her tears, "We searched all night and couldn’t find her. The police are still looking."

"Maybe she had a fight with Colin and is hiding somewhere." My brother casually responded, "Don’t worry about her. She’ll probably come out on her own."

"How can you say such things!"

My father, enraged, shouted, "She’s your sister!"

My brother retorted defiantly, "Does she even see me as her brother? Mom told me it was you who taught her not to send money home these past two years!"

"That’s her money! What does it have to do with you!"

Furious, my father pushed him, then noticed that his computer screen was displaying a search on: “How to declare a missing person dead.”

At first stunned, my father then roared, "Where did you take your sister?”

My brother remained silent.

It seemed my father suddenly realized something. He crawled and stumbled his way to the slaughterhouse, diving into the pile of garbage to search frantically.

My mother followed, asking what he was looking for.

I knew what he was searching for—my amulet. After being torn off my neck, it had been carelessly discarded among the trash.

My father, trembling all over, ignored my mother and frantically dug through the pile.

I watched coldly from behind, until he finally pulled out a dark, grimy object, desperately trying to clean it but failing.

"Have you lost your mind?" my mother yelled.

My mother scolded angrily, "What bad luck! Just throw it away already!"

My father, kneeling on the ground, kept scrubbing at the amulet. He ran to the sink and the dark red stains were washed away, revealing the amulet's original appearance.

He froze, rooted to the spot.

My mother continued to scold him, complaining that he had made a mess by rummaging through the trash.

My father, completely overwhelmed, collapsed and grabbed my mother, shaking uncontrollably.

"The girl we dealt with yesterday was Zora," he said.

My mother, unable to comprehend, stared blankly at him.

My father, in utter collapse, screamed, "The person we disposed of yesterday was our own daughter!"