My Sister Died in His Car

My name is Jenny Lopez. The fire five years ago consumed all my gentleness. Before that, I was merely an ordinary college student, with an elder sister three years my senior named Naomi Lopez. My sister was gentle and kind, engaged to be married to a man named Louis. Our life was humble yet peaceful, until Pierre Spears appeared. Pierre Spears was a notorious scion of wealth in our circle, obsessed solely with racing, and his one true love was Christina Stiller. His obsession with Christina Stiller was so profound that after every argument, he sought a "talisman" to accompany him on his races. This so-called talisman was merely a girl he had randomly abducted, strapped into the co-pilot's seat as a faint consolation. My sister, Naomi Lopez, became the third. The reason was laughably simple: that day, my sister wore a high ponytail—exactly the same style Christina often wore. I still remember how my sister looked moments before she was taken; she had just left the office, holding the cake she had bought for me. Pierre Spears's bodyguard forcibly dragged her into the sports car; her terrified eyes swept across the crowd before finally locking onto me. I chased desperately but only saw the sports car vanish into the distance, leaving behind the harsh roar of its engine. That was the last time I saw my sister alive. That very night, an accident occurred at the suburban race track. Pierre Spears's sports car lost control while taking a high-speed turn and burst into flames after crashing into the guardrail. Witnesses reported that Pierre Spears immediately unbuckled his seatbelt and escaped the vehicle. He neither looked back nor tried to open the co-pilot door; he simply stared fixedly at the burning sports car, as if mourning his beloved racing machine. My sister was trapped in the co-pilot seat, suffocating to death amid thick smoke and fierce flames. She did not even have time to leave a final word. On the day of my sister's funeral, the sky was heavy and gray, with a light rain falling. I knelt before the tombstone, my entire body freezing cold. Pierre Spears's bodyguard found me, holding a letter of understanding. They spoke with a harsh tone, wielding threats and bribes to coerce me into signing. When I refused, they seized my arm and pressed me hard against the tombstone. At that moment, fireworks burst across the distant sky. The brilliant fireworks illuminated the gloomy sky, as well as the cold indifference etched on the bodyguard's face. It was only later that I discovered that day was Christina Stiller's birthday. On the day of my sister's funeral, Pierre Spears was by his first love's side, setting off fireworks in a private estate to celebrate. In that moment, the hatred within me grew wildly like vines, entwining my very being and suffocating me with unbearable pain. I silently vowed that Pierre Spears and Christina Stiller would pay their blood debts with blood. From that day forward, I disappeared from everyone's sight. I dropped out of school and cut off all contact with my former friends, leaving only Louis as my link to the world. Louis, like me, hated Pierre Spears and Christina Stiller with a burning intensity. He lost his fiancée; I lost my sister. We shared a common enemy. We swore to seek vengeance together.