Hey everyone,

Some of you may know my name, though to be honest, I’m not even sure if it’s my real name.

My story begins when I was four years old. I don’t remember my original name due to the traumas I endured. When I was four, I witnessed my parents being killed right in front of me. I remember exactly how it happened and who did it. The killer apologized to me and my sister before leaving.

We were too young to provide detailed descriptions for a composite sketch, though I still remember enough to do so now. Unfortunately, it’s too late.

As far as I know, the murderer was never found. My sister and I were adopted by different families. My adoptive parents were a wonderful Swedish migrant family. In 1991, they decided to move to Sweden, where I was raised.

I never saw my sister again after we were adopted, and I have no idea where she is, what she’s doing, or if she’s even alive. I hope she is. I’m 39 now, so she would be around 41 or 42.

My adoptive family didn’t have many details about my biological family, and they advised me not to dig into my past. Five years ago, I moved to the United States. I have a great job, doing the same work my biological father did. I remember his work uniform and notes, which helped guide me.

I’ve tried to find my sister many times without success. I even took a DNA test to see if I had any potential matches, but I came up empty. The results showed I am originally Swedish, which makes me think my adoption wasn’t a coincidence. I suspect my adoptive family might know more than they let on.

I’m not looking to find out who killed my family. I just want to find my sister, the only remaining connection to my past. Until recently, I hadn’t shared my story with anyone. A few days ago, I met a friend from Reddit, and we went to a movie together. She asked about my family, and I shared my story with her. Now, I’ve decided to share it here, hoping my sister might see it.

Thank you for listening to my story.