The Sin of Perfect Transplantation

When I woke up I had no memory, and my wife and daughter lying next to me claimed that we had always been happy. Until I found a diary deep in the closet. The handwriting was exactly the same as mine: "Don't believe them, they are dead." I pretended to live as if nothing had happened, but in the middle of the night I overheard my wife whispering to herself tenderly: "If I fail again, I will have to use my next body..." I secretly investigated the past and discovered to my horror that I had been a serial killer who specialized in killing women. In the end, I discovered that the so-called "wives and daughters" were just using my body to complete their unfinished revenge. I smashed the family photos and watched them scream and disappear - it turned out that I was the experimental subject whose memory was transplanted. At this moment, familiar handwriting came from the closet again: "The game continues, it's your turn next."