After I Was Blown to Pieces, My Boyfriend Personally Drew My Portrait

My boyfriend is a forensic sketch artist.

To save his ex-girlfriend, he personally drew a sketch for a murderer.

He had no idea the little girl in that sketch was me as a child.

Two weeks later, the police were called to a scene of an explosive dismemberment.

The police searched the explosion site for three days and three nights and finally pieced together the facial bones.

When he picked up his brush and reconstructed my appearance from before my death

He completely lost his mind.

My body was torn to pieces in the explosion.

After cordoning off the area, several coroners meticulously collected the surrounding remains.

"The autopsy report indicates the victim was a young female, between 20 and 22. Time of death was less than twenty-four hours ago."

"That means she was still alive just before the blast."

"The victim's facial bones show severe trauma. All bones in her body were broken prior to death. The abdominal cavity was pulverized, likely from an explosive device planted inside her body before detonation."

At this point, everyone in the station shuddered.

They all stared at the unrecognizable corpse.

A young officer turned and ran out, retching violently.

"The killer clearly wanted to torture this person. What kind of hatred drives someone to commit such a brutal, inhuman murder?"

"Captain, what do we do now?"

The head of the Major Crimes Unit turned. "Get Garrett in here!"

Then my boyfriend, Garrett, walked in. His hair tousled by the wind, yet it couldn't diminish his innate, refined presence.

He carefully examined the facial bones of the corpse.

Finally, he delivered his conclusion.

"I can't sketch it. The victim's facial bones are incomplete. Several pieces are missing."

"I recommend you go back and sweep the explosion site again."

"You might still find the remaining fragments."

Upon hearing this, the station sent people out immediately to search for my remaining bones.

Only Garrett kept his intense focus fixed on my body.

"Was the victim left-handed?"

The coroner looked surprised.

"How did you know? The right hand shows signs of a severe old injury, stunted bone development. She likely relied on her left."

Garrett was exceptionally familiar with bone structure.

He'd always been the genius painter in his professors' eyes.

Back at graduation, his mentor had asked him why turn down a perfectly good career to go work for the police.

I knew the answer. It was for his father.

To get revenge for him.

But this same man, for the sake of the woman he loved, had let a killer walk free.

The coroner was right, you know.

Before I died, the killer did try every way to torture me.

I never understood it.

How did the killer still find me?

It wasn't until the killer showed me that sketch

Two weeks ago, the killer suddenly approached my boyfriend.

He had also kidnapped Garrett's ex-girlfriend, Audrey.

"Well, well, if it isn't the great artist Garrett. See who I have here?"

Audrey's face was deathly pale.

"Garrett, save me! I'm so scared!"

"Take me home, please!"

Garrett panicked. It was the first time I'd seen him so visibly shaken.

But Garrett never liked showing his emotions.

The last time I saw him that emotional was the day I secretly celebrated his birthday.

He'd been busy with a case that day and had forgotten his own birthday.

I'd waited up for him.

When he finally came home and saw the birthday dinner I'd made for him.

His eyes reddened with emotion.

But now, hearing about Audrey, he was thrown into a panic.

So Audrey was that important to him.

He demanded of the killer, "What do you want?!"

The killer took out two photos and handed them to him.

"Draw a portrait for me. A simple trade, and I'll give your sweetheart back. How's that?"

Garrett didn't believe it. He frowned, questioning. "That's that's all? Just that?"

"That's all."

But he didn't know.

The little girl the killer wanted him to draw was me as a child.

They had been looking for me all along.

My parents were undercover narcotics officers.

After I was born, their identities were never made public.

They died in the line of duty, taking down a cartel kingpin.

Their identities were leaked. Fearing reprisal against me, the authorities severed all official traces connecting us. I lived a peaceful life for twenty years.

Until the killer found Garrett.

The genius forensic artist.

The brain of the Major Crimes Unit.

If a face needed reconstructing, there was no one better.

He sketched for a long time that day.

As distant sirens finally wailed, the killer released Audrey and vanished.

I watched Audrey throw herself into Garrett's arms.

Garrett held her tightly, his voice trembled as he said, "Thank God you're okay."

But he didn't know, the moment he handed that sketch to the criminal.

My life had already reached its end.

That day, after Garrett kicked me out of the hospital, I was walking home alone.

Sensing something was wrong, I instinctively dialed my emergency contact.

"Garrett, I think I'm being followed."

"Can you come get me? I can't get a cab here, I'm really scared."

But Garrett thought I was lying.

So on the other end of the line, he was furious and yelled at me.

"What game are you playing now? You think this will make me come running back to you?!"

"Let me tell you something, even if you die out there, I won't come looking for you! Don't bother me again!"

I listened in despair to the sound of the call disconnecting, fumbling to dial 911.

But the killer behind me struck first, knocking me unconscious.

I woke up in an unfamiliar, abandoned factory.

To vent their rage, they tortured me beyond recognition.

They smashed my face with a shovel, shattering the bones, but they kept me alive through it all.

They weren't finished having their fun. Only when I was at my last breath.

To destroy the evidence, they used a knife to slice open my abdomen and stuffed a timed explosive inside me.

The moment the blast echoed,

I looked up at the sky and laughed. I was finally free.

But I never imagined that after death, I'd remain as a spirit.

And witness Garrett examining my corpse.

He treated it like it was garbage.

"Notify me if you find anything."

"I have plans tonight, I'm heading out."

The coroner was a good friend of his. He walked out with him.

"My fiance and I are setting a date. You both better come. I haven't seen your girlfriend in ages. Bring Vivian along."

As soon as the friend finished speaking, he saw Garrett's face darken.

His friend's smile faltered. "Hey, man, you and Vivian still haven't made up?"

"It's been over two weeks now."

Garrett's steps faltered, even his breathing grew heavier.

"Don't mention her to me."

Garrett sounded like he hated me with a passion, storming off in a huff.

My spirit followed him to the hospital, hovering outside the transparent glass.

Looking at the middle-aged woman inside, hooked up to a ventilator.

I covered my mouth, sobbing quietly.

Truth was, I knew the problems between Garrett and me could never be resolved with just a word or two.

He hated me because I was the reason his mother was in the hospital.

Still lying in the ICU to this day.

Two weeks ago, right after the incident with Garrett and Audrey.

When the police brought him and Audrey back, his mother had been at the bridal shop with me, helping me pick out a wedding dress.

Because Garrett's and my wedding was set for the eighth of next month.

But I never expected that on the way home, a car would come barreling toward us out of nowhere.

I didn't have time to react. Garrett's mother pushed me, shielding me in her arms.

But she suffered critical injuries from the crash.

By the time she reached the hospital, her life was hanging by a thread.

Garrett showed up late with Audrey.

Furious, Garrett grabbed my shirt and shoved me to the ground.

"Why did you have to drag her out with you?!"

"Why did you take her out? If you hadn't dragged her around, this never would have happened!"

"Vivian, if anything happens to my mom"

"I will never forgive you!"

Yeah, who could ever forgive the woman responsible for their mother's condition?

I scrambled up, ignoring the pain.

I didn't dare hope for his forgiveness, but his mom got hurt because of me.

I could only beg pathetically, "Can I just stay?"

"I'll leave as soon as I see she's okay"

But Garrett didn't give me a chance.

He just shoved me out. "Cut the fake concern! You don't deserve to see my mother!"

That night.

I stayed outside the hospital the entire night.

It wasn't until the next day, when I saw she'd been moved to the ICU, that I finally felt a sliver of relief.

Before leaving, I saw Audrey holding Garrett.

Whispering comforting words to him.

"It'll be okay. I'm sure your mom will pull through."

"I'm here for you, Garrett. I'll always be here for you"

I took the hint and left the hospital, not disturbing them.

After that, I lived drowning in guilt.

Every time I woke from a nightmare, it felt like I was back in that crash.

I thought it was all my fault.

I thought I was the one who'd brought this on his mother.

But it wasn't until I fell into the killer's hands.

That I learned what Garrett and Audrey were doing during that time they went missing.

For Audrey's sake, Garrett had given the criminals my sketch.

If Garrett ever found out he was an accomplice in his own mother's suffering

Would he ever be able to forgive himself?