On the Fourth Day After I Died, My Whole Family Went Mad

Because I missed the three calls my older brother made before jumping into the river, my parents decided I was the murderer who killed him. Every day after that, they wished I had been the one to die. When my father's criminal enemies came after me, he refused to answer my calls. “If I’d known it would come to this, I never should’ve brought you back!” My mother, a doctor, impatiently hung up too. “You know we’re going to pay respects to your brother, and now you’re putting on another act. Do you think this will ease your guilt?” So I was beaten for a day and a night. By the time I was brought before my father, a police officer, I was a bloody mess, and he didn’t recognize me. On the fourth day after I died, my whole family went mad.