A Birthday and a Burial

"Oh, my goodness! This woman died a horrible death!"

"She was a pureblood werewolf attacked by a rogue. Her body was pumped full of liquid silver!"

"How did her family not realize what was happening? Couldn't anyone sense she was dead?"

The TV kept replaying the news of my death while the comments section blew up with arguments about how I'd died. People reacted with shock, grief, and even outrage. But not a single one of them knew who I really was.

My body was found in an old storm drain at the boundary of our family land. The site had once served as a military water reserve, storing liquid silver bombs during the civil war, but it had long been abandoned.

The seal had cracked open, revealing a woman's body. Rotting flesh was tangled in foul sludge, and the stench of decay was overwhelming.

The police flooded the scene. Behind them came Dad, the werewolves' top officer, and my brother, the medical examiner.

They assumed this was just another rogue attack. It never crossed their minds that the body might belong to their own daughter or sister.

Floating above my lifeless body, I watched as my brother, Jacob Rosen, crouched down. He deftly shifted my shattered finger bones, pried open my jaw, and examined the structure of my throat.

"The victim is a young female with severe facial disfigurement, most likely caused by silver corrosion. The eyeballs are missing, the nasal bone is fractured, but the teeth are still intact for DNA sampling. Time of death was at least a week ago."

His tone was detached and clinical. Not a hint of emotion came through in his words.

He even turned to instruct his students, saying, "Record the liquid silver's corrosive effects and the halted tissue regeneration at the wound sites."

Dad stood beside my body, gloved hands at his sides, his cold gaze sweeping over what was left of me. "Take it to the lab and begin the autopsy."

After that, he didn't spare me another glance.

Jacob's intern was about to zip me into a body bag when he looked down and saw my face, disfigured by silver corrosion. His stomach churned, and he gagged.

"Can't handle it already?" Jacob scowled.

The intern clamped a hand over his mouth and bolted to the corner. He dry-heaved for what felt like forever before returning, his face ashen.

"Dr. Rosen, it's not that I can't handle it. It's just… she died in such a horrible way… Like the killer despised her down to her bones."

"Yeah." Jacob spared me a quick look. "It's horrible."

"The killer didn't leave a shred of mercy."

Would Dad and Jacob still say that if they knew it was me?

And just like that, they took me back to the police station and wheeled me into the autopsy room, treating me like some nameless body.

I floated above the lights as Jacob put on his protective suit, mask, and gloves. He began by sterilizing my body, then prepared everything for the dissection. Standing over what was left of me, he gave a solemn nod.

"Note how the liquid silver corrodes the internal tissue. The entry wound is three inches below the sternum," Jacob told his assistants.

Then, he took the scalpel and made the first incision. The cold blade parted my skin, and my spirit shuddered faintly.

It didn't hurt. This was nothing compared to the torment of 99 stab wounds and the searing agony of liquid silver burning through my veins.

Jacob slowly peeled back my torn skin to examine the wounds. He slid a probe between the corroded bone seams, then studied my ribs, chest cavity, and spine. As he worked, he recorded his observations in an analysis report.

Next, he cradled my head and checked my skull and facial structure. His fingers brushed against the earring on my ear.

It was a silver, gear-shaped badge, engraved with our family's crest and the word FIDEM. I'd made it myself when I was ten years old, a keepsake for the family, and gave one to Dad, Mom, and Jacob.

Only the four of us had them.

Jacob's fingers grazed the earring, and a flicker crossed his brow. His gaze lingered for two seconds, as if something turbulent was churning inside him.

I noticed the shift in his Adam's apple and the way his fingers paused midair, as if he was tempted to reach out again.

Just then, Dad shoved the door open. "How much longer until the autopsy is done? The media's already swarming outside. We need that report as soon as possible!"

Jacob jerked his hand back and turned. His voice came out flat. "This body's a rare case, especially with the liquid silver infusion and severe corrosion occurring together.

"The liquid silver was likely injected in stages while the victim was still conscious, torturing her to a slow death."

Dad stepped closer, covering his nose as he shot a disgusted glance at my body. "No matter what, get that autopsy report done fast."

With that, he turned and left.

"Step forward, one at a time, and follow the procedure."

Jacob, his assistants, and the interns gathered around my body. The harsh light above the dissection table reflected off the cold, sharp scalpels.

I couldn't feel anything anymore. I just hovered there, watching as they sliced into my flesh, pried open my ribs, and examined my heart.

The organ that had once pulsed with trust and love now lay exposed beneath the surgical lights. It had been tagged and numbered.

Jacob had come so close to realizing the body he was dissecting was actually mine.