Chapter 8
“Memory reading doesn’t just cause physical pain–the person has to relive their trauma too. Would someone like that really kill their own parents? Something feels off here.”
“Harry is trash. He piled up debt and ran; he even stole from his own family. Disgusting!”
“Maybe she is atoning for murder–but sometimes you have to look past the surface to see the truth.”
The memory reader didn’t stop. It quickly skipped to the eve of the murder.
It was a sunny afternoon. I looked at the news, smiling with satisfaction as I watched Chris complete the world’s first surgery of its kind.
He had become the most outstanding young entrepreneur in Portland. Chris was a top surgeon, and Calista’s concert was that very night. She hadn’t told me, but I secretly bought a ticket for a seat in the stands anyway.
A light breeze blew through the curtains into the living room. It felt like my life could finally come to an end. On the coffee table was a medical report that stated, “Advanced signet ring cell gastric cancer, multiple metastases. Immediate hospitalization recommended.”
I had fulfilled Mom’s last wish. But I could never walk out of that night when I was 14. The image of myself stabbing my parents with a knife appeared in my dreams again and again.
After watching Calista’s concert, I decided to search for the truth. What really happened that year? Why did I kill our parents? Why are parts of
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my memory missing?
In truth, all these years, I never stopped trying to uncover the truth.
Relying on the location burned into my memory and endless searching, luck finally came. Two months later, I found someone who had witnessed the entire thing.
“Calista, I’m going on a business trip for a while. If you’ve got time, help me tidy up the house, okay?”
“Why are you even telling me that?”
Before I could say anything, Calista hung up.
I let out a helpless sigh, shouldered my bag, and set off on the path of revenge.
The moment I closed the door, I cut ties with my siblings. I vanished from their world–and they didn’t seem to notice.
Twelve hundred kilometers away, in a small town, I found the man who had witnessed the whole thing. Now an old man, he broke down in tears the moment he saw me.
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…
“I had no money back then. I just wanted to have a meal. Your dad gave
me one.
“But it was different! Everyone else got fried chicken. Mine was just plain salad! I hated him for looking down on me!
“So I decided to kill him! Anyone who disrespected me had to die!”
I stared in disbelief at the old man in front of me, rage rising in my chest.
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“What did you say? You killed my parents? It wasn’t me?”
“You were just a kid. I snuck in and stabbed him in the dark…”
“Then why don’t I remember what happened?” I grabbed him, desperate for answers.
Wiping his tears, he went on, “After killing your dad, your mom tried to scream. I killed her too…
“I was in a frenzy. I saw you, so small, standing there, and I couldn’t do it. So I knocked you out instead…”
So that was it… The truth that had haunted me for 25 years was finally revealed!
As I watched the old man confess in front of me, I spoke slowly, “My dad hid the fried chicken under the salad so you wouldn’t feel ashamed… He even added a fried egg…‘
”
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