Dissecting Love: A Twisted Tale of Fate

Five years ago, my brother's fiancée died because of me. Five years later, I'm burned to a crisp and laid out on his autopsy table.

My elder brother, Michael Summers, had always wished that I could just die.

"You're just a cold-blooded monster, Ruth! Elena cared so much about you, but you heartlessly locked her out so that she would be stabbed in your stead! Don't you feel ashamed to be alive?"

Five years ago, Michael's fiancée, Elena Brooks, had died because of me.

Five years later, my burnt corpse lay quietly on Michael's autopsy table.

Michael's wish finally came true.

However, he lost his mind when he learned that I was the one who had died.

…

The burnt corpse on the autopsy table was in a distorted posture.

"Sorry, Dr. Summers," Charles Johnson, the captain of the police force, said apologetically, "I understand that you can finally get off work early and have dinner with Ruth today, but…"

"I don't want to hear that monster's name ever again." Michael glared at Charles with a hint of disdain in his cold gaze.

I hovered in the air above them. There was a bitter smile on my lips. After Elena's tragic death, I had become a cold-blooded monster in Michael's eyes.

He had refused to listen to my explanations, and he didn't even want to see me.

After completely cutting off ties with me, Michael had moved out and begun to take care of his new younger sister instead.

She was Elena's younger sister, Shirley Brooks.

I had to admit that Shirley looked more like Michael's sister than I did. She was a talented medical student, and she loved reading and drawing. She always had a response to the topics Michael brought up, too.

I was nothing like her.

I was 23 years old, and I had been selling vegetables for a decade.

I couldn't understand most of the things Michael talked about, and I wasn't very good with words. I had only ever asked him if he had enough money, or if he had bought something nice for Elena.

With just a slight nudge from Michael, the left arm fell cleanly off the corpse and landed on the floor with a thud.

Charles was stunned. "What…"

Michael explained, "Before the victim was burned, their arm was already violently broken. Only their skin and tendons remained connected, so after the high-degree carbonization, the arm would fall off.

"The carbonization level was quite severe, so we can't extract the DNA to verify their identity. The culprit must know a lot about forensic anthropology."

I expected nothing less from Michael.

He was the most outstanding forensic pathologist in the police force, after all. He had already found the key clue in such a short time.

"Also, the corpse was purposefully abandoned at a filthy and messy landfill," Michael added.

In other words, the culprit was both cruel and cunning.

Charles was so furious that he punched the autopsy table. The head and the remaining three limbs on the corpse fell off as well. Even the torso broke into several pieces.

Charles' angry shouts immediately echoed in the autopsy room. "I'll kill their whole family!"

Meanwhile, Michael frowned as he picked up the head, which had rolled onto the floor. "Also, the victim might very well be alive when they were burned," he observed.

I couldn't help shuddering. I hadn't realized that even in spirit form, I was capable of recalling fear and pain.

On the first day, my left leg was broken.

I lost my right arm on the second day and my left arm on the third. My right leg was gone on the fourth day, followed by my spine on the fifth. On the sixth day, my face was slashed.

She would give me nutritional injections every day, and she would even administer some pain relief.

On the seventh day, she had slowly hacked away at my neck bone with a scalpel. However, she had avoided my trachea on purpose…

After that, she had filled my stomach with gasoline.

I wondered if Michael could still figure that out at this point.

"Hm?" When Michael was placing the head back on the body, he suddenly frowned as he examined the corpse's chipped front tooth in detail.

I began to drift around in panic.

When I was 12, Michael suddenly had a high fever in the middle of the night.

I had run out in the rain to get medicine, but I hadn't noticed a puddle under me, so I had slipped and fallen. I had chipped my front tooth then.

Michael must have recognized me by now, right?