I Was Burned to Death, and My Mother Was Singing Happy Birthday

When I was eight years old, my father died in a fire trying to save me. I was thrown to my hometown in the countryside by my mother, and I lived with my grandmother for ten years. My mother hated me deeply. While trapped in the fire, I called my mom, a firefighter, for help. Her ears were filled with her hateful curses. "Fire? You lied to me for such a vicious reason? You'd better be burned to death and experience the pain your father suffered!" Before the call was cut off, I heard her singing happy birthday to her adopted daughter. She is no longer my mother. Two hours later, I watched as my body was burned to black coals.