Part 2After I Was Killed, My Mom Personally Dissected Me to Help the Murderer Escape Punishment, I Floated Behind Her, My Eyes Red with Hatred

Mom dug a hole with many tools she could find and carried my body with my brother to dump it in.

After filling it with soil, she put on plastic bags and cleaned up all the footprints she and my brother had left behind.

Mom's face was as dark as water. Having just finished dealing with the aftermath, her eyes flickered with a dim and complex light!

She gripped my brother's arm tightly, her voice low and stern: "Remember, not a word about what happened today!"

Back home, the air in the living room was heavy.

I watched all this from another world's perspective, my soul floating in the air, powerless to change anything.

"Why did you hurt someone?" Mom questioned my brother.

My brother turned his head away, his voice choked with tears, "He was just a homeless man! He threatened to hurt our whole family! I... I just wanted to protect you..."

Hearing him say this, my heart felt like it was being torn apart by a dull knife.

Memories from my life came flooding back: every time I was neglected, every meal I couldn't eat my fill, every time I was unfairly locked in the dark room... All the pain and despair once again eroded my soul.

"You really disappoint me."

Mom said in a flat tone, without much more reproach.

These simple words contrasted sharply with her violence towards me.

It also made me question her identity, how she had lost the most basic human conscience.

To cover up for her son, she personally disposed of the victim's body.

I couldn't help but recall that ever since Dad passed away, from the time I could remember, Mom never liked me. She often wanted to strangle me on lonely nights.

She kept saying Dad died to save me.

But just a few years later, she remarried and had my brother.

My position in this family became even more precarious, bullied and insulted, beaten by everyone.

And my brother was the culprit. All the beatings I took from childhood to adulthood were because of his framing!

I was beaten by Mom with a stick until I coughed up blood, then thrown into a dark room to reflect.

The little bit of gentleness and understanding I had hoped for on countless nights, shivering in that dark room, now seemed so distant and illusory.

Anger and helplessness stirred up the emotions that remained in this world.

I rushed forward, trying to attack the brother who had deceived our mother and framed me many times.

But when my fist passed through his body, there was no sensation, as if it were passing through air.

"Why do you always favor him?!" I screamed at my mother, but the voice only echoed in my own ears.

"Why has it always been me who gets hurt, from childhood till now! I'm your child too! Why are you so cruel!"

I lived such a miserable life, while my brother grew up like a child bathed in honey. We had the same mother, yet lived completely different lives.

Watching Mother gently caress my brother's warm skin while I couldn't even seek the most basic justice, an indescribable pain and sense of isolation overflowed from the bottom of my heart.

Moonlight fell in patches on the old wooden floor outside, every corner of the house exuding an eerie and cold air.

I looked around at this place once called "home", which had now become a place where no one remembered my existence.

Vaguely, I seemed to hear Father say to Mother before he passed away: "Take good care of the children!" But reality was so cruel and ironic.

Mom took care of me until she saw me suffer endless torment, and then personally disposed of my corpse.

All the grievances and harm I had endured over the years seemed to turn into sharp arrows, unable to be released even after death. I existed in this world like a ghost, both laughable and pitiful.