The Only Victim

The police told them to wait for further notice before Leo ended the call.

Mom and Dad avoided eye contact—after all, they hadn't even finished reading the police report.

In their hearts, nothing was more important than Ravenna.

If they had just turned a couple more pages, they would have seen that a shattered glass lunch box was found at the crime scene. It was the same lunchbox I used every time I brought Mom food when she worked late.

The night I was kidnapped, I was about to leave the house to bring her dinner.

"Why are you glaring at me? You're becoming more and more like that Danica. Remember this—Raven is the sister you grew up with. Danica was raised on a farm in the countryside—she's rough and vulgar. What kind of decent child could she be?

"Do you know how many people have birthdays on October 3rd? That doesn't mean it's her. A silver necklace? I don't believe she could afford that—she probably stole the money. If she turned into a thief, she might as well be dead."

Mom was furious and unusually agitated.

The date that I wanted to cherish so badly turned out to be a sin worthy of death to Mom.

"The police haven't found the killer yet, and there's no DNA match for the body in the missing persons database. Maybe the victim's family hasn't even reported them missing. Mom, we need to find Dani, or at least report it to the police."

Mom immediately took out her phone and dialed my number—twice. No answer.

"See? I called, and she didn't pick up. Danica is so disobedient."

"Honey, don't be upset. We just need to take care of Raven. Look at that victim's family—their child has been missing for so long, and they haven't even reported it. They're such irresponsible parents."

"People like that don't deserve to be parents. They don't care about their child at all!" Mom spoke with righteous indignation.

They condemned those so-called negligent parents, yet it never even crossed their minds that they, too, didn't care about their own daughter's disappearance.

I thought of my foster mother and what she told me before she passed away.

"Sometimes, blood is not necessarily thicker than water."

I didn't believe it. I thought no parent could truly not love their own child. That was why I came back.

But I should have understood from the very beginning that I wasn't welcome.

I stood at the doorstep, wearing a dress made from my foster father's old shirt and socks with holes in them.

Meanwhile, Ravenna, dressed in a designer gown, was nestled in Mom and Dad's arms when they opened the door.

The moment I called them Mom and Dad, they covered Raven's eyes—afraid that just looking at me would dirty her eyes.

But I was the one who had been stolen from my parents.

Still, their love had never belonged to me.