When I Was Tortured to Death, My Father Said I Wasn’t Worthy of Being His Daughter

My father, Garrett, was a brilliant criminal profiler.

Many cases were solved thanks to his expertise in profiling, uncovering crucial leads. Yet, when I was brutally murdered, he was at home, caring for my adoptive sister, Riley, who was pretending to be ill.

The last words he said to me when I called for help were—

"You're such a curse! If you want to die, just go die! You're not even worthy of being my daughter!"

Ironically, his hatred for me spared his life that night.

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My body was discovered early in the morning by my landlord, Landon Pierce, who had come to collect overdue rent. It was a gruesome scene, the air thick with the metallic stench of blood.

Inside the Snowmass Village condo, the living room was drenched in red. Blood smeared across the walls like some macabre art exhibit. Bones and flesh scattered like discarded waste.

Deputy Harlan, leading the investigation, stood frozen amidst the carnage. His voice cracked with fury as he muttered, "This… This is beyond inhuman."

I hovered above them, a silent observer, stunned by the sheer amount of blood. No, it wasn't just mine. There was more—two people's blood mixed together.

My father arrived late, his face pale and weary. But once he put on his white lab coat and gloves, he was back to his composed, methodical self. His brow furrowed as he paced the room, his sharp eyes scanning every inch of the crime scene. Then, he closed his eyes, piecing together my final moments from the evidence left behind.

Garrett was the best in his field. His crime scene reconstructions were 95% accurate, earning him admiration from his colleagues and the public alike.

The Pitkin County deputies were hard at work, photographing, collecting evidence, and preserving the scene. Each hoped to find a thread of truth in the chaos.

As time passed, my father's face grew paler. The pen in his hand trembled under his tightening grip, as though he might snap it in two.

"This was a calculated, merciless act of torture," he said, his voice cold with rage.

He continued, "According to my profile, the victim was a young woman. She suffered unspeakable torture before being dismembered. The killer's methods were exceptionally cruel. This was deliberate—an act of revenge."

His analysis was swift and precise, as always. Even with the limited evidence, he painted a chillingly accurate picture.

Deputy Harlan stopped writing and asked, his tone heavy, "Are you sure?"

My father, though used to witnessing countless crime scenes, couldn't mask his unease. "Ninety percent certain," he replied, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow.

The brutality of the crime was unlike anything he'd seen before. He lifted his hand to sketch something on a blank sheet of paper, but his fingers shook so violently that the pencil slipped repeatedly.

Deputy Harlan placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Garrett, maybe it's just a coincidence," he offered, though doubt shadowed his own face.

As my father tried to focus on profiling the killer, his pencil unconsciously began outlining the victim instead. The image slowly came into shape—an outline that looked hauntingly familiar. It looked like… me.

But then, he stopped. His hand froze mid-stroke.

I could tell he was remembering an old, unsolved case—one that had haunted him for years.

I wanted him to uncover the truth quickly. The killer's next target was him. Yet, I also dreaded the moment he would realize the victim was me.

My father hesitated for a long time before pulling out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts and dialed one labeled "My Sweet Daughter."

Tears welled up in my eyes. I knew it—deep down, he still loved me.

But the voice that answered shattered my hope.

It wasn't me. It was Riley.

I should've known better. After my mother, Brooke, died in that car accident, he stopped seeing me as his daughter. His love belonged solely to Riley.

Riley's voice was sugary sweet. "Hi, Dad! What's up?" she asked, feigning innocence.

My father's tone softened, overflowing with affection. "Riley, listen to me. Stay home for a while, okay? Don't go to school. I'll bring you everything you need. Just stay safe."

"Okay, Dad! Thank you! I knew you loved me the most! Oh, and maybe call Willow, too? She lives alone. Make sure she's safe."

The warmth in his voice vanished instantly. He scoffed, his face hardening.

"Hmph! You still treat her as your sister? She's never treated you like one! Even when you were sick, she claimed someone was trying to kill her, made up lies about needing help, just to get attention!"

His voice grew colder. "She's as selfish as ever—always willing to say or do anything to get her way."

But then, his words trailed off abruptly, as if something had dawned on him.