My older sister was in a car accident while hurrying back to attend my graduation ceremony.
From then on, every year on the anniversary of her death, my parents forced me to kneel and confess my guilt.
Then, when I was eighteen, someone followed me. Terrified, I called my parents.
"What are you pretending now? Get back here and kneel to confess!"
"Why wasn't it you who got hit by that car? You're a curse!"
As the assailant grabbed me and wouldn't let go, I heard the call disconnect.
My body was dismembered and left in different parts of the city, but my mother, the forensic pathologist assigned to my case, didn't recognize me.
Then my sister returned from abroad with the child she'd secretly given birth to.
When they learned that the bones in the garbage bag were mine,
they went mad.
