When I was ten, I bugged my brother to come home for my birthday.

He died in a plane crash that day. They never found his body.

After that, my parents saw me as a total screw-up. They blamed me for his death.

Every year on his memorial day, they forced me to kneel at the cemetery and repent my mistakes.

I did that for eight years.

I figured I'd spend my whole life paying for it. But on my 18th birthday, some creep stalked and murdered me.

Right before I died, I tried calling for help.

But my mom chewed me out. "I bet you're just dodging your duty to make up for James. You're full of crap. If you hadn't forced him to come back, he would have been alive. This is what you deserve."

She hung up, leaving me staring at the dead screen. My last hope was dashed.

She was right. Someone like me meant nothing but bad luck to those around me. I didn't deserve to exist.

But then, eight years after his death, James showed up with his pregnant wife.

When they heard I was gone, they fell apart.

On my tenth birthday, I screwed up big time. I got my brother killed.

I grew up in a happy family. My parents, Robert Miller and Susan Miller, loved me. My brother, James Miller, was awesome.

I was everyone's little princess. But that all crashed with one phone call.

On my birthday, I called James, whining for him to come home. He lost his life because of it.

The plane went down. His body was never found.

Robert and Susan hated my guts for it.

"Why did you make him come back?" they accused me. "Why wasn't it you who died?"

That crash didn't just take James. It took me too.

Guilt and regret chewed me up. Everyone's blame shoved me into a black hole.

I questioned myself, "Why did I call him? Why did I kill him? Why did Death take him?"

If I hadn't dialed that day, he would have been alive.

Too bad regret couldn't change anything. No one had answers for me either.

Since that day, I had been made to atone for my mistakes.

Every year, on James's memorial day, which was also my birthday, my parents dragged me to the cemetery and made me kneel at his grave.

Now it was the eighth year, and I thought my life couldn't get any darker.

Then a serial killer found me in the rain and hacked me to bits.

I tried to fight back with the stun gun Robert gave me.

Years ago, Robert's job pissed off some shady people. They snatched Susan and me.

To save me, Susan got dragged by a car for dozens of yards. Robert took a knife to the chest for us.

The police arrived in time to get us out.

Later, Robert handed me that lamb toy. It had a high-voltage stun gun inside.

He taught me how to use it and said, "I can't always be there. You've gotta look out for yourself."

When that killer grabbed me, I jammed the toy into him, only to find it didn't work.

It was busted, and my last chance was gone.

The rest was all pain. Wrenches, pliers, axes, and other tools ripped into me without mercy.

My fear just egged him on.

It hurt like hell. I bawled and lost it all.

I never knew breaking bones could sound so loud. It rang sharply in my ears.

My skin peeled away, and blood blurred everything.

I blacked out.

When I came to, I was a ghost hovering in a police station.

Lightning flashed outside.

Robert stood there in his uniform. His eyes were full of sorrow. Young forensic guys hovered around.

On the table was a bag of chopped-up meat. Captain Daniel Carter and his team had taken great trouble to find it before the rain washed it away.

I never thought they'd track me down so fast. Maybe God pitied my misery.

A homeless guy had rummaged through the trash to find the bag. He thought he had hit the jackpot with free meat until human fingers came into view.

A storm kicked off this grisly murder case.

Thunder boomed, and rain hammered down. The police and their dogs tore through the city.

Daniel couldn't keep it in. This hacked-up mess matched the Rain Mire's style from eight years ago.

"What do you say?" he started. "Doesn't this remind you of Rain Mire from way back?"

Robert's face went grim.

The Rain Mire struck on rainy days. He got off on torturing young women and ruined tons of families.

Back then, Robert almost nailed him with hard evidence, but the man fled.

For revenge, he messed with James's plane, and they both perished in a crash. Neither of their bodies had ever turned up.

Daniel put it together quickly. If that nutjob wasn't dead, he would come back to settle the score.

"If it's him, keep Susan and Emily locked up tight," Daniel said. "Especially Emily. She is his type."

When my name came up, Robert's panic turned to ice.

He snorted, "She should've been gone years ago."

That hit hard, but I had to admit that these eight years were stolen.

Knowing my deal, Daniel wanted to say something but eventually held back.

After James died, Robert and Susan scoured the crash site for three days straight. They came back with bloodshot eyes, begging God to bring him back.

Losing James broke them.

"Don't brood," Daniel sighed. "The higher-ups are all over this case now."

Robert got it and started working.

He pulled the meat chunks out of the bag carefully. Then he cursed, "Screw this psycho! This is inhumane."

A rookie forensic kid saw the body and teared up. They knew they needed to identify the victim as soon as possible.

After the police hauled back every piece they could find, Robert stitched my skinless body together. It took a whole day.

I floated next to him, glad he wouldn't know it was me. At the same time, I was relieved that my guilt-soaked life was over.

Daniel eyed the raw corpse. Even after years on the force, he couldn't take it.

He asked Robert if the killer did this to dodge evidence or just because he was sick in the head.

Robert remained silent for a while. Then he croaked, "Not about evidence. Tests show she was skinned alive."

He clutched his fists, then pointed at the body. "It's pure hate. See this? There's even salt damage on her. He sliced her up bit by bit to make her suffer."

His voice cracked. "And she's just a teenager. What kind of beef justifies that?"

I hovered by his side, impressed by his precision. He was worthy to be called the best forensic scientist in town.

Daniel narrowed his eyes. "What a freaking psycho! He is damned!"

Taking a deep breath, he added, "We're checking missing girls aged 16 to 20 from the last couple of days. Hope we identify her fast."

Robert perked up. "Oh, her right leg bone is missing. It might have scars or surgery marks that could help you trace her down. Her face got burned with acid. Fixing it will take time."

He sighed, peeling off his gloves. Next to him sat my bloody toy, but he failed to recognize his gift to me for protection.

After wrapping up his work, he checked his phone and got pissed off by what he saw.

He called Susan immediately.

"Did you see Emily's call? That liar is at it again, spouting junk to get under our skin," he huffed. "She still doesn't get it. If she hadn't forced James to come back, Rain Mire wouldn't have gotten him. Now she's saying she's being followed."

I wasn't lying. I was dead.

I'd never lie about such things to mess with them. I was desperate when I sent that SOS.

Unfortunately, neither of them had taken it seriously.

I heard Susan on the phone, just as pissed.

"I saw her message and ignored it," she said. "She's just dodging her duty. That kid doesn't give a damn about making things right."

I covered my ears, crushed by their rant.

Just as I thought they'd never know I was dead, my best friend, Sarah Johnson, stormed into the station. She said I'd been missing for two days.

A police officer went to take her report, but Robert stopped them. "No need. I'm Emily Miller's dad. She's not missing, just pulling this crap to guilt-trip me and her mom."

The police officer glanced at Sarah, stuck. He knew Robert's rank and backed off.

Sarah stumbled out with tears in her eyes. I wanted to chase after her, only to find my ghost was trapped there. I couldn't leave Robert's side.

He handled my skull and headed home.

Dinner was the usual: grilled salmon, spicy crab, and buttered shrimp. Susan remembered James's favorites but never cared I was allergic to seafood.

Once, Robert asked why I wasn't eating. I thought he finally gave a damn.

I gripped my fork and mumbled, "I'm allergic to seafood."

Susan slammed her fork down. "What did I do to deserve an ungrateful brat like you? I slave over this meal, and you act like I've sinned?"

I looked at Robert, my childhood hero who would shield me whenever Susan got mad. This time, he just plopped a chunk of crab on my plate.

"Eat up. Don't tick off your mom," he muttered.

Their stares pinned me down. I had to choke down the crab.

Later that night, my throat swelled up. I could barely breathe.

My eyes puffed up. My skin itched and burned. My voice was shot.

"Help..." I stumbled to the door, but it wouldn't open.

Panic hit me. I banged on it, croaking, "Help! Dad, Mom! Save me!"

Susan's voice came from the living room. She said, "It's just allergies. She won't die. Good thing we locked the door. Her tricks are annoying. James came to me in a dream last night, saying he wanted the new PlayStation. Let's go before the mall closes."

I begged them not to leave me. That would kill me.

What answered me was the door slamming shut. They ditched me.

I was devastated and resigned to fate. Maybe it wouldn't hurt that much if I died.

I curled up in a corner, waiting for the final moment. I didn't know how long it had passed when laughter came from downstairs.

"You silly goose, you know you're allergic to peanuts. You almost bought it."

"I couldn't help it. Please don't tell Mom."

"She already knows. She twisted her back, making all your favorite foods. It's fine. Parents don't hold grudges."

I felt like a sewer rat, sneaking peeks at the happiness I never had. I was ashamed but had nowhere to hide.

I wanted Robert and Susan to love me, to care about my allergies, to cook my favorites, and to nag me with love. But I was just the rotten kid who killed James.

I didn't deserve it. Still, I didn't want to die.