Kingvon Autopsy

My sister, Vivian Richmond, is celebrating her birthday with the rest of the family while I lie trapped in an abandoned factory, bleeding heavily. She's hired four thugs to torture me, and they've left me fighting for my life. I crawl toward my phone with what little strength I have left. When I finally reach it, I call my husband, Ethan Monroe. "Ethan, I'm seriously injured. Come save me now… I'm at the factory nearby. It won't take much of your time…" He scoffs at my weak, desperate voice. "Sienna, whining won't get you anywhere. Are you playing the victim now?" he says. "You'll stop at nothing to ruin Vivian's birthday party, huh? Hurry back with a gift and apologize to her, or I won't go easy on you this time." Before I can speak, I hear Vivian calling his name over the line. Ethan has no idea that the moment the call ends, I no longer need his forgiveness. He doesn't know that the foul, rotting corpse that makes even an experienced forensic pathologist like him recoil in disgust belongs to the wife he's hated for years.

Nang dumating ang college admission notice, bigla akong nagkaroon ng mataas na lagnat at napilitan akong manatili sa kama. Ang aking kapatid na babae ay sangkot sa isang kidnapping habang nasa daan upang tulungan akong kunin ang notice, at ang kanyang buhay ay hindi tiyak. Galit na galit sa akin ang mga magulang ko. Matapos punitin ang aking admission notice, pinilit nila akong talikuran ang aking pag-aaral at magtrabaho sa isang pabrika. Nang maglaon, nakaranas din ako ng kidnapping. Pagkatapos makatakas, nagtago ako sa isang abandonadong pabrika at nagpadala ng mensahe para sa tulong. Tinawagan ako ng tatay ko at walang pigil na sinigawan ako, “Lena, tao ka ba? Paano mo nagawang magbiro sa amin sa memorial day ni Jessica!” "May ideya ka ba kung gaano namin hinihiling ng nanay mo na ikaw ang namatay noon?" Sa mga huling sandali ko bago mamatay, umalingawngaw sa aking pandinig ang kanilang mga pang-iinsulto. Ako ay tinorture at pinatay, naging isang halimaw, at ang aking katawan ay itinapon sa isang mabahong kanal sa loob ng tatlong buong araw. Kahit na ang aking ama, ang pinaka experienced na forensic expert, ay hindi ako nakilala. Nang umuwi ang aking kapatid na babae kasama ang lalaking kasama niya ilang taon na ang nakalilipas, pinanumbalik ng aking ama ang aking hitsura sa pamamagitan ng teknolohiya. Lumuhod sila sa harapan ng naaagnas kong bangkay at umiyak hanggang sa mawalan ng malay.

When the college admission notice arrived, I suddenly developed a high fever and was bedridden. My sister encountered a kidnapping on her way to help me collect the notice, and her life was uncertain. My parents hated me deeply. After tearing up my admission notice, they forced me to give up my studies and work in a factory. Later, I experienced a kidnapping as well. After narrowly escaping, I hid in an abandoned factory and sent them a message for help. My dad called me and shouted at me without restraint, “Lena, are you even human? How could you play such a joke on us on Jessica's memorial day!” “Do you have any idea how much your mom and I wished it had been you who died back then?” In my last moments before death, their insults echoed in my ears. I was tortured and killed, turned into a monster, and my body was thrown into a stinking ditch for three full days. Even my father, the most experienced forensic expert, couldn’t recognize me. When my sister returned home with the guy she eloped with years ago, my dad had just restored my appearance through technology. They knelt before my decaying corpse and cried until they fainted.

Habang brutal akong pinapaslang ng kriminal, ang dad ko, ang head ng Criminal Investigation Division, at ang mom ko, ang Chief Forensic Pathologist, ay nanonood sa laban ng kapatid kong si Lily Lambert. Bilang paghihiganti, ang kriminal, na dating nahuli ng dad ko, ay pinutol ang dila ko at ginamit ang phone ko upang tawagan siya. Isang bagay lang ang sinabi ng dad ko bago niya binaba ang tawag. “Anuman ang nangyayari, ang laban ni Lily ang pangunahing prayoridad ngayong araw!” Ngumisi ang kriminal, “Mukhang maling tao ang dinukot ko. Akala ko mas mahal nila ang tunay nilang anak!” Sa pinangyarihan ng krimen, nagulat ang mga magulang ko sa brutal na kalagayan ng bangkay at kinasuklaman nila ang kawalan ng awa ng killer. Subalit, hindi nila napagtanto na ang gula-gulanit na bangkay na iyon ay ang sarili nilang anak.

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 wife, Caroline Bailey, was a forensic pathologist. For her first love, Ian Lawson, she was willing to break every rule she held sacred and allowed him into the autopsy room to observe. She even let him throw acid onto a corpse's face. That was, until Caroline took on a new case. As she stood over the disfigured body on her operating table, she began to fall apart. The acid-burned face was starting to look more and more like mine.

A high-profile rape case rocks Corvessa City. During the autopsy, I examine the deceased's private area as part of the standard procedure. My wife, a police captain, blows up in front of the onlookers. "Don't we have a female medical examiner in our unit? Do you realize you're re-victimizing the deceased? And your wife is standing right here. Are you really that desperate?" The crowd turns on me in a heartbeat. Bowing to public pressure, the department suspends me and tells me to keep reporting in at my own expense. I hand in my resignation on the spot. Without me, nobody in Corvessa City is going to crack this case.

As my murderer's claws tear into my abdomen inch by inch, my father and brother are seated in our family's banquet hall. They're celebrating Carly's 18th birthday and coming-of-age. "You'll always be my little girl." "Happy birthday, Carly." They light 18 pink candles for her. On top of the exquisite red velvet cake is a wolf figurine that they carved for her, and there are well wishes and laughter all around. Meanwhile, I'm curled up in a sewer filled with liquid silver as I bleed to death. My phone has been crushed, and I can't get out. I can only cry for help. A few days later, my father and brother show up together at the autopsy room. My brother stands by the operating table with a scalpel. He slices open the body and sews it back up like it's nothing. My father just covers his nose as he shoots a disgusted glance at my body. He urges my brother to hurry up with the autopsy report. "The victim is a young female wolf presumed to be of pure lineage. Before her death, she was subjected to prolonged captivity and torture. Her throat is nearly severed, her cervical spine is dislocated, and her chest cavity has collapsed. She was also injected with liquid silver before death." Hearing the report, my father looks so calm that it's just like a case study of no consequence. Neither of them can recognize that the body belongs to me—their daughter and sister!

Abductors bind me in a basement, subjecting me to the torment of dozens. Meanwhile, my husband, Evan Foster, dines by candlelight with his lover, Carmen Locke. My abductors grant me one chance to call for help, and I dial Evan's number. I'm certain he will come for me. I believe Evan would give his life for me, as he once vowed that his future held no meaning without me. Clinging to hope, I call the number etched in my heart. However, Evan scolds me for interrupting their date. "You think I'll come get you? Dream on. Maybe I'll bother to collect your body if you die out there." His words crush me, and I do die. Five days later, Evan stands before the autopsy table, grimacing at the mangled remains before him. Even as the police department's finest forensic expert, having dissected thousands of bodies, he condemns the killer's brutality. Yet, despite his cold dismissal of my desperate plea over the phone, he now wears a look of pity. Evan, if you knew these fragments belonged to me, would you still find me worthy of your compassion?

During my night shift, I refused to help my adopted sister administer fluids to her patient. After the wrong drug is given, I watch a seven-year-old boy die after he suffers an allergic reaction right before my eyes. In my previous life, the boy's family stormed the nurses' station after I'd just finished administering his IV medication. The next thing I knew, I was violently beaten up. "You poisoned my grandchild by giving him the wrong medicine!" But the fluid I introduced into his bloodstream was a simple glucose solution. It couldn't have led to such a disastrous outcome. When I was on the brink of passing out, someone called the police. I thought help had finally arrived, but I was sorely mistaken. The police officer—my brother—pinned me to the ground. "We found your prints on the drug vial. You're a murderer." Then, my childhood friend, a forensic pathologist, held up an autopsy report and accused me of the same crime. "The patient's time of death is around 5:00 am. That's the same time you administered drugs into his system." Unable to prove my innocence, I was ultimately beaten to death by the boy's enraged family members. My brother and my childhood friend had always loved me. Even on the brink of death, I couldn't understand why they would do this to me. Now, I open my eyes and find myself back on the night it all began.