Dad, I'm No Illegitimate Child

I was kidnapped by one of my father's enemies.

The abductor called Dad, who was a police officer, and growled into the phone, "Mr. Carter, your daughter is with me. If you want her alive, you have to come here yourself. Otherwise, I'll cut her into pieces."

A cold blade touched my throat, making a chill run through me.

Dad's voice came through the receiver, steady and irritated. "Playing the kidnapping trick again, huh, Edith? You're absolutely hopeless."

"I'm not lying! I swear I'm not!" My voice cracked as I begged, "He really will kill me!"

"Then why don't you just die?"

As he cursed me, my breath faltered.

"Dad," I choked out, "I'm only 18. I don't want to die. Please…. please save me."

Yet Dad hung up.

I stared blankly, listening to the busy tone as tears slid down my cheeks, colder than the knife at my throat.

The abductor cursed, redialed, and barked, "William Carter! You really don't care if I kill her?"

"Go ahead and kill her!" Dad snapped, his voice dripping with fury. "Forget cutting her into pieces—carve her up and destroy her however you like. It has nothing to do with me."

The line went dead again. Right before the call ended, I heard faint music in the background along with the voices of my stepmother, Agnes Rowley, and my younger half-sister, Helen Carter.

Today was Helen's birthday. They were probably celebrating together.

The abductor tried again, but Dad's phone was turned off. He hurled the device at the wall.

I don't know what came over me, but suddenly, laughter slipped out of me.

The abductor slapped me hard. "What are you laughing at, you filthy bitch?"

Tears streamed down my face even as I laughed, unable to hold back.

"I'm laughing because you took the wrong person. Why would he care about me? I mean less to him than even a bug. He only cares about Helen."

My laugh broke into a sob. I looked up at him and pleaded, "I'm worthless to him. Keeping me here won't get you anything. Let me go. I can pay you. I'll give you a lot of money. I—ah!"

The knife stabbed into my abdomen. Pain surged through me as a scream ripped out of me.

The man smiled, twisted and delighted.

"William doesn't even want you. What makes you think you still deserve to live? I should send you off early. No, that's too easy. I'll take my time and make you repay his debt."

From that moment, my life was hell. The man tortured me day after day until I finally died.

I thought I was about to be free at last.

Perhaps this was what Dad had wanted all along. He had spent years telling me to hurry up and die. Now I was really dying, just as he wished.

The last thing I heard was the abductor's warped whisper. "Remember this. I'm not the one who killed you. It was your beloved father. I'll carve out your heart and send it to him."

And so, I died at the hands of that vicious abductor.

He didn't stop at killing me. He hacked apart what was left of my body and cut out my heart before placing it inside a beautifully wrapped box.

I watched him work with calm precision. The scene felt strange and distant now that I was no longer flesh and blood.

I had become a drifting soul—and souls couldn't feel the heat or the cold. They couldn't grow tired, nor could they feel pain.

Before sunrise, the abductor carried the gift box to my family's doorstep and muttered, "William, I don't believe you can remain indifferent once you see your daughter's heart."

I found myself laughing again. The man was delusional. He had missed his chance. Dad would never care. If I had mattered to him even a little, he would have believed me.

Almost 20 years ago, Mom was so blindly in love with Dad that she used whatever methods she could to get close to him.

She ended up pregnant and forced Dad to marry her. Dad couldn't marry the woman he truly loved, and for that, he hated Mom. As for me, the child born from that trap, he despised me most of all.