The Day My Mother Opened Me Up

Mom handed the scrap of stomach-acid-dissolved paper to the criminalistics expert.

He stretched his aching back and muttered helplessly to Dad, "Let's hope this gives us something. Did you remind Leo to keep the doors locked?"

Dad nodded gravely. Then, he hesitated before saying, "Honey, what if something did happen to Bastian? He's not answering his phone and not even replying to Maeve's texts. Maybe I should have someone look—"

Mom annoyedly cut him off. "Oh, come on, you know him. He's probably hiding somewhere out there and waiting for us to find him. It's not his first time pulling this stunt.

"He probably just doesn't want to watch Leo's game. Just you wait; by tomorrow night, he'll come crying to us for forgiveness."

My last disappearance happened during summer break, when Leo had locked me in a bathroom stall at school. The whole building had been empty for the holidays, and no one had been around to hear me shout.

I'd crawled out filthy with all my might and limped home on a sprained ankle. But when I got home, all I received was Dad's hard slap and Mom's screaming.

"Leo said he saw you sneaking into a hotel with some girl! How did I give birth to a shameless brat like you?"

I couldn't defend myself and just stood there as Leo hid his smug grin behind her shoulder.

When Maeve gently dabbed ointment on my cheek afterward, she whispered, "Mom and Dad love you, and they just don't know how to get along with you."

But I'd known even then that I'd never win their love against the clever, charming Leo. Love always tilted toward the child they liked best, and unfortunately, I was never that child.

If I were alive, I'd probably still drop off nutritious broth at the police station when they were too busy at work to come home. But this time, I couldn't come back and say I was sorry like they wanted.

After all, I was dead.

The trace evidence lab results were soon released and revealed that the scrap of paper was a shopping receipt.

To torture me, the murderer had mockingly shoved it down my throat and forced me to swallow it. "Is this for your mom and dad? Even if they get it, they'll just toss it in the trash."

Dad frowned at the scrap. "What's this place?"

The criminalistics expert replied, "I looked it up; it's a little shop that sells protective charms."

When Mom and Dad got there with a few other officers, the shop owner jumped in surprise. She took the ruined receipt, studied the order number, and pulled up her records.

"A young guy came in a while ago. He wanted something for his parents and said they had dangerous jobs. But he never came back to pick them up and didn't answer when I called him either."

She pulled out two protective charms and handed them over. "These stand for peace, health, and a long life."

Dad took the pouches with a sigh. "Is there any footage from that day?"

The shop owner nodded. "I remember him as a quiet and polite boy. He stood here forever trying to pick the right patterns for his parents."

When the security footage played, a dead silence fell over the room.

Mom swallowed hard as her eyes locked on the screen. "Why does this boy look so much like Bastian?"

The shop owner piped up. "Bastian? That's the name on the receipt!"

Dad looked equally grave as he forced himself to stay calm and said, "Could be someone with the same name. Bastian's probably hiding somewhere and laughing at us right now."

Then, he turned to the shop owner. "Are you working with him? How dare you try to fool the cops!"

Right then, Mom's phone rang, and she fumbled to answer in a trembling voice. "Hello?"

The guy from the forensic biology unit anxiously reported. "Kamille, we got the DNA test results for the victim."