A Terminal Cancer Patient's Revenge for Her Sister

I stumbled out of the hospital and my legs barely supported me. The medical report in my hand felt like a death sentence, three words searing into my eyes: Stage 4 cancer. Yes, terminal cancer. I had barely three months left. Who could I tell? When I hailed a taxi home, my phone rang. It was my Mom, but her voice trembled. "Your sister... she's killed herself at school. Back now!" I froze, the phone nearly slipping from my grasp. It was impossible. She'd flashed a sweet smile before I left home this morning. At fifteen, she was in her prime – a stellar student, friendly to everyone. How could she have suicide? I couldn't recall how I got to her school but my last glimpse of her body. The fall had been brutal; her face was unrecognizable, and her body was broken like a discarded doll. My beautiful little sister was always so appearance-conscious but now left this world in such a state. Mom collapsed and fainted with grief. Fighting back my own anguish, I sought answers from the school administration. My dad passed away years ago, leaving Mom to raise us alone. With my life slipping away and now my sister was gone, how would she cope? "Principal, there's no way my sister took her own life," I insisted. "She had no reason to do so." "But she jumped," he replied. "Other students saw it. We understand your family's pain. Our deepest condolences." I couldn't accept it. There must be something hidden. When I asked for security footage, the school claimed a camera malfunction, which only fueled my suspicions. My sister's death wasn't simple, and I must find the truth.