This time, Carl no longer resisted and his tone brimmed with unhidden excitement. He hated me so much that only a gruesome death could ease the pain he’d carried these past six months.
I followed him as he sped all the way to the forensics department
“Did you find something?” he asked the officer eagerly.
With a serious expression, the officer nodded solemnly and led him to the examination table.
“How tall was your ex-wife?”
"One hundred and sixty-nine centimeters."
“And approximately how much did she weigh?”
"Around fifty-five kilograms."
“What was her blood type?”
“Rh-negative.”
“Did she have an English letter tattooed on her left arm to cover a scar?”
Carl, who had been casually listening, froze, his pupils suddenly contracting.
The forensic doctor carefully lifted my left arm, which had been reduced to a mass of flesh and showed the letter to Carl.
The letter L.
No one knew better than Carl where it came from. The scar was left when I shielded him for him. He also tattooed the letter onto my arm with tears in his eyes, one stitch at a time.
At that time, his career was just taking off and he had suffered a lot of jealousy from his peers. Some even put seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars bounty on his head. When the thugs charged toward him, I instinctively stepped in front of him.
I could take the hurt, but the career he was so proud of couldn’t be destroyed.
Carl took a sharp breath and his hand trembled as he took the victim’s physical records and read them over and over again.
“We also discovered,” the officer continued, “that the deceased endured nearly six months of inhuman abuse before death. Her limbs were covered in ligature marks, as if she had been bound to some object all the time. Her upper body was covered in whip marks, with scars that had healed and reopened and her chest was already festering with rotting flesh…”
“Her hair was pulled out bit by bit and even burned... Because her scalp was fused together, we couldn't get any useful DNA. And her lower body... was even worse... It was like something a beast would do...”
“But the victim had a strong will to live … otherwise, she wouldn’t have lasted six months,” the forensic doctor whispered, then reluctantly covered my face with a white cloth.